Jack dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He'd made a botch of it, just as he had so many other things in his life. This particular mistake mattered more than any of the others, though, because it affected Nessa— and she mattered greatly.
Raising his head to stare out at the gray February day, he finally admitted to himself what he'd been denying for weeks: he'd fallen in love with his wife. It was a shattering thing to a man who'd built his life on the firm belief that love was a myth, but there it was. Now, what the devil was he to do about it?
The first thing, clearly, was to determine the true extent of the damage. He would go at once to speak with Lady Creamcroft. He'd not thought her the sort to carry tales, but it seemed he'd misjudged her. Once he knew precisely what he was up against, he would face Nessa again— this very day—and have everything out in the open.
Leaving his breakfast untouched, he rose and called for his greatcoat, then strode from the house.
His plans received a setback when he discovered that Lady Creamcroft was not at home. He left his card, with a message that he would return later, and walked back the way he had come, wondering what his next step should be. A vision of Nessa's face last night, pinched and tired, rose before him. Miranda's doing. Well, he could make certain nothing of that sort happened again.
Most mornings, he knew, she could be found shopping on Bond Street, so he directed his steps there. He spotted her carriage almost at once, and headed toward it.
“Why, Jack, what a lovely surprise!” she exclaimed, emerging from a milliner's shop just as he reached her waiting carriage. Then she took a good look at his face. “Is something wrong?”
“You could say so. What possessed you to come to my home last night? I rather doubt my wife invited you.”
Miranda tittered, though her expression held a hint of alarm. “I assumed it was a mere oversight. Certainly she welcomed me graciously enough.”
“Nessa is always gracious.” Jack bit out the words. “Your presence there upset her, however, and I'll not allow that to happen again.”
Miranda seemed unmoved by his vehemence. Glancing languidly over his shoulder, she only said, “Let's not stand talking on the street in all of this wind, Jack. Come, we'll sit in my carriage to discuss it.”
He glared at her, but she was already moving toward the vehicle, a few yards away. As he hadn't yet received any assurance from her that she would leave Nessa—and him—alone, he had perforce to follow. Careful to seat himself as far away as the confines of the carriage would allow, he faced her again.
“Do you understand me, Miranda? I'll not have you upsetting my wife. What once existed between us is in the past, and will remain there.”
She pouted at him. “Then you no longer find me attractive, Jack?”
“Of course you're attractive, but I am no longer attracted to you. I love my wife.” There. He'd actually said it aloud. Ironic that Miranda should be the first to hear it.
“Now isn't that sweet!” A sneer abruptly robbed her face of much of its prettiness. “I wonder, however, whether you'll ever get her to believe it? She knows all about us, you know.”
“I told her before we married,” he snapped. “Nothing of substance has occurred since, despite whatever gossip her sister has heard.”
Miranda now displayed genuine amusement. “Oh, her sister has heard quite an earful, I assure you, Jack. I made certain of that.”
A sense of foreboding gripped him. “Do you mean to say you've spoken to Lady Creamcroft yourself? What lies have you told her?”
“Lies? Such an ugly word. Perhaps I might have exaggerated a bit— merely wishful thinking on my part, of course. But combined with the evidence of her own eyes I likely created a powerful impression—one she no doubt felt compelled to share with her sister, your beloved Lady Foxhaven.” Her words now dripped venom.
Jack realized he had underestimated the potential fury of a woman scorned. In the past, he'd generally managed to break things off cordially with one paramour before moving on to the next, with one or two minor exceptions. Of course he hadn't had a marriage at stake then.
Or love.
“Do not doubt for a moment that I'll see you ruined—or worse—if my wife suffers due to your machinations,” he said icily. “Certain information dropped into certain ears and you could find yourself facing a charge of treason.”
She blanched visibly, her eyes wide. “Jack, you wouldn't— that is—I'm sure you'll manage to patch it up. I—I leave for a house party in Surrey in two days' time, in any event.” She managed a placating smile. “So there'll be no more machinations from me. I'm sure I've done enough.”
Fearing he'd be tempted to do her an injury if he remained a moment longer, Jack slammed out of the carriage. Striding away, he glanced at his watch. Damn! He was due to speak on the Corn Bill under discussion in Parliament in less than an hour. He'd have to call on Lady Creamcroft this afternoon.
~ ~ ~
NESSA RANG THE BELL of the Creamcroft Town House, then bit her lip while she waited for an answer. After what seemed like minutes but were probably only seconds, Clarendon opened the door.
“Pray tell Lady Creamcroft that her sister is here to see her.” Nessa spoke more haughtily than she intended, so strictly was she schooling her voice to suppress all emotion.
“Lady Creamcroft has gone shopping,” replied the butler just as stiffly, “but is expected back momentarily.”
“I'll wait then, if I may.” Returning to Foxhaven House would be to risk seeing Jack again— something she wished to avoid until she'd had a chance to talk with Prudence.
She was shown into the drawing room, where she took a seat, picking up a book that lay on a nearby table in an attempt to divert her thoughts. As it was a treatise on morality by Hannah More—one of her father's favorites— the attempt was not entirely successful. Fortunately, Prudence returned home before too many minutes had passed.
Setting aside the book with relief, Nessa rose to greet her. “Thank goodness you are back! I really must speak with you. I hope you don't mind my waiting for you here?”
“Not at all,” replied Prudence, removing her bonnet and cloak. Once Clarendon had departed with the garments, she closed the door. Despite her assurance, Nessa thought her sister looked decidedly ill at ease.
As she was herself.
Still, she had to know what she was up against. “You said last night that Jack had been spending time— recently— with Mrs. Dempsey,” Nessa said without further preamble. “How did you discover this?”
Her sister sat down opposite and took Nessa's hands in hers. “Believe me, Nessa, I wish I had not said anything. Lord Foxhaven cares for you, I am certain of it. Perhaps—”
“Prudence, how did you find out?” Nessa demanded, disengaging her hands.
Fluttering her own hands helplessly, Prudence sat back in her chair. “I saw them together myself once—no, twice. And Lady Mountheath made a point of telling me that they were seen at Bellamy's coffee-house a few days since.”
Nessa breathed a little easier. Three public meetings scarcely constituted a torrid affair.
Her relief must have shown on her face, for Prudence said, “I'm… afraid that is not all.”
“What else?”
Now Prudence, who destested fidgeting, fidgeted in her chair and avoided Nessa's eye as she answered. “I… I spoke with Mrs. Dempsey myself—or rather, she spoke to me. She made it… quite clear that she and Lord Foxhaven were… involved.”
“That trollop!” Nessa's anger, banked since leaving Jack at the breakfast table, suddenly flared to life. “She knew, of course, that if she told you I would come to hear of it. 'Twas no doubt her intent.”
Clearly this had not occurred to Prudence. “Oh! But could any woman truly be so shameless…? She seemed to let the information drop by chance, but I suppose…”
Nessa snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I'll wager she did. And knew precisely what she was doing. But,” she added, “she c
ould never have done so had Jack not given her the opportunity. Even if she exaggerated the matter, he is hardly blameless.” A tiny voice reminded her of his explanation this morning, but she silenced it, in no mood for forgiveness.
“Nessa, what do you intend to do?” asked Prudence worriedly. “You knew of Lord Foxhaven's reputation before you married him.”
“And you'd be perfectly justified in saying 'I told you so' at this juncture,” Nessa admitted. “But that scarcely helps now. I have made my bed. Now I must determine in what position I intend to lie in it.”
Prudence gave an odd little gasp, then covered her mouth. To Nessa's surprise, her sister appeared to be stifling laughter!
“I'm sorry, Nessa, truly I am,” she sputtered in response to Nessa's thunderstruck expression. “But the most wicked idea has just occurred to me.”
If anything, the thought of Prudence entertaining a wicked idea shocked Nessa even further. She felt her eyebrows arching ceilingward. “Indeed? Pray share it, if you can.” Already, though, her sister's uncharacteristic mirth had infected her and she felt a vague lightening of her heart.
“If what you suggest is true, and Mrs. Dempsey is merely attempting to win Lord Foxhaven's affections— and he cares far more for you, I am certain of it—then perhaps you could—” She broke off, suddenly flushing scarlet. “That is to say,” she continued, “as his wife, you have more opportunity than she to—”
“Seduce him?” Nessa finished, finally understanding what her sister was driving at.
Prudence turned an even brighter red and again covered her mouth at such plain speaking— but she nodded.
“Why Prudence, I am astonished!” But Nessa spoke playfully now, as she toyed with the possibility.
Recovering herself somewhat, Prudence leaned forward earnestly, though her color was still high. “I do hope you will try, Nessa. I was not going to mention this, but Amanda Leverton claims to have seen them together less than an hour ago, on Bond Street. She made a point of telling me that she saw him leaving her carriage.”
Nessa's levity abruptly disappeared. “He joined her in her carriage? This very morning?” He must have gone straight to her upon leaving the house. So much for his promises!
“Miss Leverton wished me to… congratulate you on taking her advice after all. It would appear she heard about your reception of Mrs. Dempsey last night.”
“Her advice!” Nessa seethed. “That is the last thing I wish to follow. No, I believe I shall take yours, instead.” She managed a shaky smile. “Truly, Prudence, I believe your suggestion has merit— shocked as I was to hear you of all people propose it! Dare I hope this means you have begun to find more of pleasure than duty in your own marriage bed?”
Her sister's complexion had nearly returned to its normal color, but at that it flamed again. “Really, Nessa! 'Tis not my marriage under discussion just now. It is perfectly satisfactory.”
Despite her own troubles, Nessa could not suppress a grin at her sister's conscious expression. It would seem she had hit the mark indeed! “I'm pleased to hear it. And I thank you for your advice. Scandalous or not, I believe it may be just the thing. After all, what choice do I have?”
What choice indeed? Short of abandoning her marriage vows entirely or living in celibacy— which would surely punish her more than it would Jack—what else could she do?
She stood in sudden decision. “You are the best of sisters, Prudence. Your idea may well be the saving of my marriage— and my sanity.”
“Then I will have repaid my debt to you,” Prudence replied. Though her cheeks were still bright, she smiled as she met Nessa's eyes—a smile that admitted to the new pleasures she'd discovered in her husband's arms.
Glad that she'd been instrumental in improving her sister's marriage, Nessa gave her a fervent hug then took her leave, ready to do battle on behalf of her own.
~ ~ ~
TWO HOURS LATER, Jack was shown into the room his wife had so recently quitted.
“How pleasant to see you, Lord Foxhaven,” Lady Creamcroft greeted him, looking up calmly from her needlework. “I'm sure if Nessa had known you planned to call here this afternoon, she would have waited.”
Jack paused midway through his bow. “She was here? Today?” So much for his hopes of explaining Miranda's duplicity to Lady Creamcroft before she could pass along yet more damaging tales.
His hostess nodded. “She came seeking sisterly advice. I fear you have given her some cause for distress, my lord.”
“I have,” he admitted cautiously, taking a seat. “But not as much cause as you might think.”
“Oh?” she asked mildly.
“I, er, learned today that you may have been told… things… which were not entirely true. I assure you, Lady Creamcroft, that I have not been unfaithful to Nessa, either in thought or deed.” There. Now he'd counteracted whatever lies Miranda had told her.
But Lady Creamcroft appeared not at all surprised. “I'm pleased to hear it, of course, though I am not the one you need to tell. Your judgment seems questionable in this, as in other matters, my lord.” At his frown, she continued. “Joining another woman in her private carriage is scarcely the sort of thing designed to alleviate a wife's suspicions.”
Jack felt his eyes fairly start from his head. “Good God!” he exclaimed, then quickly added, “I beg your pardon, my lady. But I begin to believe a network of spies is at work to make my every move public in short order.”
“Bond Street is scarcely a private venue, my lord, and gossip travels quickly in London, as you are no doubt aware.”
“And now Nessa knows about that, as well,” he said with a groan. “Pray believe me, Lady Creamcroft, it was not at all what it appeared. I will not be seeing Mrs. Dempsey, publicly or privately, in future. I have made certain of that.”
She lifted her shoulders slightly. “Again, I am not the one who needs to hear this. I recommend you tell your wife.”
Jack rose. “I'll do that— immediately. Thank you, my lady. I give you good day.”
Ten minutes later he entered Foxhaven House, having spent the intervening walk rehearsing what he hoped was a suitably groveling speech. Soon this whole ugly misunderstanding would be behind them, and he and Nessa could resume where they had left off two days since.
“Daniels, is Lady Foxhaven at home?” he asked the new butler as he relinquished his top hat and greatcoat. On being assured that she was, he headed up the stairs, only to be greeted by a vision as he turned at the first landing.
Nessa, dressed in a breathtakingly low-cut sapphire gown, was just descending from the second story. Her chestnut hair was piled high and studded with sparkling gems. A necklace of diamonds and sapphires, a Foxhaven heirloom, encircled her throat, its large central jewel suspended between her breasts, emphasizing her cleavage. Jack swallowed, his body responding instantly to the alluring picture she presented.
“Why Jack, are you not dressed yet?” she asked in apparent surprise while he groped for the opening words of his speech. “We are due at the Beckhaven's in an hour.”
“We… we are?” With an effort, he wrenched his eyes away from her nearly-exposed bosom to focus upon her face. She wore an enigmatic half-smile.
“Yes, indeed. They have invited us to a dinner party preceding their musicale. From there, we are engaged to accompany Lord and Lady Norville to a reception at the Russian embassy. What a mercy we did not schedule our soirée for this evening!”
Jack blinked. Nessa was acting as though their conversation that morning had never taken place. “I… Yes. I suppose it is. I'll, um, go up and change directly.”
“I shall await you in the parlor. I've ordered the carriage in forty-five minutes' time.” With a stunning smile, she continued past him down the stairs, leaving a tantalizing whiff of exotic perfume in her wake.
He watched after her for a moment before dazedly proceeding upstairs to his bedchamber. Parker awaited him there, with his evening clothes already laid out.
“W
ill this be acceptable, my lord?” he asked, indicating the dark blue tailed coat, matching waistcoat and buff breeches.
“Fine, Parker, fine,” replied Jack absently. “Did you see Lady Foxhaven?” It wasn't normally the thing to discuss one's wife with one's valet, but just now he felt the need of a clearer head to supplement his own.
“Indeed, my lord. Most striking. I chose this coat to complement her gown. You'll be a perfect match.”
Jack regarded his valet closely. “Do you think so?”
Parker gave one of his cryptic smiles. “A well-matched pair requires equal exertion from both. Practice and a willingness to accomodate will generally assure a smooth pace.”
It was as enigmatic as any of his valet's speeches, but Jack knew better than to request an explanation.
After taking even more care than usual over Jack's cravat, his valet finally pronounced him fit to leave the room. Hurrying downstairs, Jack glanced at his pocket watch. He would have only a few minutes to speak with Nessa before the carriage arrived at the door. He'd best make those minutes count.
“My dear,” he began as he entered the parlor, but Nessa did not give him an opportunity to continue.
“Ah, there you are, Jack. Tell me, do you think I made the right decision with these curtains? I'd thought the blue and cream would complement the rest of the room, but now I begin to believe the pattern is too busy.”
He glanced impatiently at the curtains in question. “They look fine, Nessa. The whole house looks fine. You did a splendid job with it, as dozens of people informed you last night. What I'd hoped to talk about—”
“Why, thank you, Jack!” she cooed, smiling most bewitchingly as she came toward him. “I meant to tell you how much I appreciated your praise of me to our guests, but I… was a bit distracted and forgot to do so.”
Was she trying to tell him all was forgiven? He scarcely dared to hope so. She seemed to be playing some role, the purpose of which he hadn't yet divined.
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