“I said nothing that wasn't true.” He tried to imbue his words with additional meaning. “You have accomplished miracles in short order—on several fronts.” Certainly, no other woman had ever managed to secure his love—or even his inward admission that such a thing existed.
For a moment, her glitteringly seductive facade seemed to slip, revealing the Nessa he knew. “Really, Jack?” Her eyes probed his, seeking…
“Milord, milady, the carriage,” intoned Daniels from the open doorway.
At once, Nessa whirled away from him. “Precisely on time. We mustn't keep the horses standing. Let us go, my lord.”
A footman appeared with their cloaks and then accompanied them to the coach to open the door and lower the steps. Now he would have his chance to talk to her, Jack thought, joining Nessa within.
“Nessa, I wish to apologize,” he said the moment the door closed behind him, before she could introduce any other extraneous topic. “I subjected you to gossip, however unintentionally, and to distress. I promise not to let it happen again.”
She stared out of the carriage window for so many seconds that he began to wonder if she had heard him. Finally she turned, but in the dimness he could not read her expression. “I appreciate your concern, Jack, but pray do not make promises you cannot keep.”
“But I—”
She put up a hand to silence him. “I knew of your reputation when I married you, Jack. In fact, it was one of the things that attracted me in the first place, as I've said before. When you told me that all debauchery was behind you, my first reaction was one of disappointment rather than relief. So it was quite absurd of me to become angry upon hearing evidence to the contrary. In fact, I should have been delighted.”
“Delighted?” Far from following her reasoning, Jack felt completely out of his depth.
She nodded. “My first marriage was deadly dull, not to mention terribly restricting. In agreeing to marry you, I consoled myself that an alliance with a rake—even a former rake—was bound to be more entertaining, allowing me the freedom to experience a side of life I had hitherto only dreamed of.”
The vague uneasiness that had begun when Nessa first greeted him upon the stairs earlier crystallized into foreboding.
“Imagine my dismay,” she continued airily, “when I discovered you were serious about becoming thoroughly respectable— for your grandfather's sake—only days before our wedding. 'Twas nearly enough to make me cry off. But I'd become rather fond of you by then, so I chose to go through with it, contenting myself with our nightly… lessons.”
“Contenting yourself?” he fairly exploded. “Don't try to tell me you haven't found our lovemaking as enjoyable as I have, for I'll not believe it.” What on earth was he saying? He'd never had to defend himself in this manner to a woman before. Far from it!
She laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “Oh, you're very good in bed, Jack. Thoroughly skilled. I've enjoyed your instruction enormously.”
“Honored to be of service, of course,” he said icily, not at all mollified. What had gotten into her?
“Still, I'll admit that playing the proper little wife all the rest of the time has been wearying— just the sort of thing I'd longed to escape. And now, I shall do just that. Really, Jack, I should be thanking you rather than hearing your apologies.”
His foreboding deepened to dread. “What do you mean?”
“Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed breezily, peering out of the window as the carriage pulled to a halt. She picked up her reticule. “Come, Jack, we have a full evening ahead of us.”
EIGHTEEN
‘HAZEL! You look lovely tonight,” Nessa greeted Mrs. Beckhaven as she and Jack entered the moderately sized Town house. “I hope our last-moment acceptance of your invitation did not discommode you.”
In fact, Nessa had initially declined this invitation, as they were already attending the embassy reception. Besides, the Beckhavens did not move in the best circles and therefore could not advance her goal of elevating the Foxhaven name. Now, however, her goal had changed.
“Not at all, not at all! I'm so pleased that you could come after all, Lady Foxhaven,” replied her hostess, beaming all over her good-natured face.
“Please, call me Nessa. I'm certain we shall become great friends.”
Hazel Beckhaven's eyes widened at this honor, sure to increase her social standing. “That would be lovely… Nessa.”
Jack bowed over her hand then, and they were ushered in for introductions to the rest of the company. It was a friendly, lively gathering, perfect for Nessa' purposes.
“Why, Sir Lawrence! I have not seen you for an age,” she greeted one of her former admirers.
As handsome and eager as ever, the young gentleman stepped forward to kiss her hand. “You are more lovely than ever, my lady. I was never more devastated than when I learned that Lord Foxhaven had taken you from us. Now at least I may worship from afar.”
“At least that,” she said playfully, flirting her fan, before turning to greet another slight acquaintance. She carefully avoided looking in Jack's direction, for fear her resolve might waver. She was determined to enjoy herself this evening.
And every other evening to come.
While she planned to follow the spirit of Prudence's advice to win back her husband, she fully intended to have a lovely time doing it—and give him back a bit of his own medicine into the bargain. After all, she'd just begun to kick up her heels a bit when Jack had offered for her, so it stood to reason that he found that side of her—the scandalous side she'd always denied— attractive.
“Might I lead you in to dinner, my lady?” asked young Sir Lawrence at her elbow. Spotting Jack out of the corner of her eye conversing with Mr. Beckhaven and the Norvilles, Nessa consented.
Mrs. Beckhaven had dispersed her guests about the table so that no gentleman sat with his wife, encouraging a greater variety of conversation. Nessa found herself with Lord Norville on her left and Mr. Pottinger, another erstwhile admirer, on her right. Sir Lawrence was directly across from her, and Jack two places to his left. Quite satisfactory.
“I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you in Town again, my lady,” Mr. Pottinger said as the soup was served. “I quite feared Foxhaven meant to keep you tucked away in the country, depriving us of your sparkling presence.”
Nessa gave him what she hoped was a sparkling smile. “I should never have allowed that, I assure you, Mr. Pottinger. I'm far too fond of Town life.”
He tilted his graying head in Jack's direction. “Ah, but men of your husband's— ahem— stamp are so well versed in the temptations London holds that they are inclined to overprotect their wives when they eventually marry— particularly when the wife is as lovely as yourself.”
“You are too kind, sir,” she murmured. “I know from experience, however, that upstanding gentlemen are also prone to immure their wives in the country, to keep them safe from the pleasures of London.”
He responded with a loud, braying laugh, as though she had just imparted some clever witticism rather than the simple truth, and she abruptly remembered why she had not encouraged Mr. Pottinger last fall. Still she smiled, since Jack was watching them from just down the table.
When the fish was served, she turned her attention to Lord Norville. He was an intelligent man of about Jack's age, and a welcome relief from Mr. Pottinger's vapid attempts at flirtation. She quietly asked him a few questions about the current issues concerning Parliament, receiving sensible answers that helped her to understand what Jack had been doing there of late.
She spent the meat course exchanging demurely flirtatious looks with Sir Lawrence across the table. That young man seemed in a fair way to becoming infatuated with her, which she might be able to use to her advantage.
With the fowl and sweetmeats she again had to listen politely to Mr. Pottinger's extravagant compliments, but she had the satisfaction of knowing that Jack was watching closely and doubtless trying to hear as much as possible.
They adj
ourned to the drawing room just as the other guests began to arrive for the musicale. Sir Lawrence made a beeline to Nessa's side, but Jack was quicker.
“I've a mind to sit with my wife during the performance, if you don't mind,” he said, taking her arm. His voice was pleasant, but Nessa detected a steely glint in his eye.
Sir Lawrence, clearly flustered, took himself off. “Certainly, certainly. Don't hesitate to call upon me, my lady, should you need me at any time.”
Nessa smiled after her young gallant, but Jack growled, “Don't encourage the lad. He'll develop a grande passion for you, and I'd be obliged to put a bullet through him at twelve paces.”
“My lord!” exclaimed Nessa, both astonished and amused. “Surely you cannot consider poor Sir Lawrence any sort of threat?”
Jack merely snorted.
Her plan was proceeding quite nicely.
There was no further opportunity for private conversation until they were back in their carriage some two hours later, en route to the Russian embassy.
“It must be nearly midnight,” complained Jack with a yawn, leaning back against the squabs. “Must we really put in an appearance at this thing?”
Nessa was feeling a bit tired herself, but immediately sat up straighter. “Why, is this the Jack Ashecroft I heard so much about? The man who diced and drank till dawn every night of the week? I hope married life has not taken all the fire out of you, my lord.”
At that, Jack seized her arm and pulled her against him. “I'll show you fire, you little vixen!” He lowered his mouth to hers.
For a moment she yielded, the familiar heat flaming up within her at his touch. Then, recalling her plan, she pulled away. “Now, Jack, we don't want to appear at the reception disheveled. People might talk.”
“I thought you didn't care about that anymore.” When she didn't reply, he continued, more urgently. “Nessa, you must believe that Miranda Dempsey was nothing to me. She is leaving London anyway, and I'll not see her again, even in the most innocent way, when she returns. Pray cease whatever game you are playing at and let us return to the way we were before.”
Nessa gave him a long look. “And are there no others waiting to take her place while she is gone?”
“None, I promise you.” His earnestness almost made her yield— but then she thought of what she would miss if she did so.
“Good,” she said. Turning to look out of the window, she considered her plans. Though she suspected now that Jack had not truly been unfaithful, she still wished to teach him a lesson— and to enjoy herself while doing so.
With no competitors to worry about, she could afford to play the untouchable coquette for a week or so, spurring his desire for her to a fever pitch. Then she could finally, deliciously, give in. It would be just the tonic their marriage needed.
Dared she hope it might even prompt a declaration of love?
Jack made an impatient movement. “So, may I direct the coachman to take us home?”
She turned to him in mock astonishment. “Of course not! We agreed to accompany the Norvilles, remember? That is their carriage just ahead of us. Besides, I wish to make the acquaintance of the Countess Lieven. I dare not risk offending one of the patronesses of Almack's by failing to honor an invitation I've already accepted.”
Nessa had scandalized Simmons with her choice of gown tonight, one she had bought when her mourning first ended but which she had never had the courage to wear. Remembering what the Countess had worn to the theater on a prior occasion, however, she doubted their hostess would be shocked. And certainly it had produced the desired effect in other quarters. She slanted a look at Jack through her eyelashes and smiled.
A few moments later they arrived at the reception and Nessa stepped once more into the role she had assumed for the evening. Once through the receiving line, she glanced about the room and spotted Mr. Galloway standing near a curtained archway. He looked up and saw her at the same moment, his eyes widening with undisguised admiration. He started forward, but then paused with a frown as Jack placed a hand on her arm.
“Shall I fetch you something to drink, my dear?” Clearly, he had not noticed the admiring gallant— yet.
She nodded. The moment Jack left her side, Mr. Galloway resumed his approach. “You have returned to grace London with your presence, my lady! Suddenly the dull month of February takes on a new glow.”
Nessa could not take him seriously, of course, but his flattery was pleasant nonetheless. “You always know just what to say to a lady, Mr. Galloway. 'Tis pleasant to see you again, as well.”
He moved closer, after a quick glance around. “Should you ever grow tired of domestic life, I'd be more than willing to show you some alternatives,” he said suggestively. “In fact—” He broke off then, hastily stepping back.
Nessa was not surprised to hear Jack's voice at her elbow. “Give you good evening, Galloway. Your lemonade, my dear. I see you are renewing yet more old acquaintances.”
Mr. Galloway must have heard the edge in Jack's voice, for he bowed most properly, murmured something incoherent about paying his respects, and decamped.
“Skittish thing, isn't he?” Jack commented. “If you're trying to make me jealous, my dear, you'll have to choose gallants with more backbone.”
“He approached me, not I him,” Nessa pointed out, refusing to let him nettle her. “Nor did I give him any particular encouragement.” Not that it would have done much good. Still, it was yet one more incident to keep Jack on his toes.
Indeed, he remained close by her side for the remainder of the evening. They chatted with the Norvilles, who introduced them to various people they had not yet met—Jack because he had not mixed with the upper crust until recently, Nessa because she'd spent so little time in London.
As soon as they could do so without giving offense, Jack suggested they leave. This time, Nessa offered no resistance. Playing the sparkling, flirtatious woman of the world took more energy than she had expected. Tiring or no, however, it had been a most enjoyable evening— the most enjoyable part being Jack's response to her changed demeanor.
Now, however, would come the real test, she realized as they drove back to Foxhaven House. What excuse would she use to keep Jack from her bed? After chiding him earlier for being tired, she could hardly claim fatigue, and he must know her monthly courses were not due for some time yet. Besides, she had discovered she did not much care for sleeping alone.
Fortunately for her plan, though not for her peace of mind, Jack himself gave her the excuse she needed. “I've some correspondence to attend to in the library, if I can stay awake long enough,” he informed her as they entered the house. “I'll join you upstairs shortly.”
Suddenly wondering whether her plan was as clever as she'd thought, Nessa headed up to her bedchamber alone.
~ ~ ~
JACK POURED HIMSELF a small measure of brandy and propped his feet up on the library desk. His correspondence was fictitious— or, at least, there was none he needed attend to tonight. What he needed to do was think, away from Nessa's intoxicating influence.
What was she up to? She hadn't actually accepted his apology, and clearly still intended to make him pay for the distress he'd caused her. Fair enough, he supposed. But he'd never been one to allow another to control his actions or emotions, and he wasn't about to start now—no matter what he felt for his wife.
Not that he'd admitted those feelings to her yet. Nor would he, while she was playing at this game of hers. Certain words she'd said earlier rankled still. “Contented herself,” indeed! And “rather fond of him.” No, now was not the time to bare his heart to her. That would only give her more ammunition for whatever campaign she was launching to put him in his place.
In fact, he'd do best to keep his distance until he'd figured out her scheme. She had an uncanny ability to cloud his thoughts— particularly in bed. Nor did he believe she'd wish to go long without further “instruction,” as she'd shown herself such an apt and eager pupil. He smiled into th
e crackling fire.
Yes, he'd wait until she asked him to her bed again. It wouldn't be long, he was certain.
At least, he hoped it wouldn't.
~ ~ ~
OVER THE NEXT few days, however, Jack found it more difficult than he'd anticipated to adhere to his resolve. Nessa persisted in dressing provocatively, though never quite crossing the line into vulgarity. She found some engagement or other for them to attend every single evening, whether it was a card party or simply accompanying others to the theater.
And every single evening was torture, for Nessa was always at her most bewitching— but directing her scintillating smiles and conversation more often toward others than to him. He'd reached the point where even an oblique invitation to join her in bed would have been accepted like a shot— but she continued to behave coyly toward him. More coyly than she appeared to behave toward others, in fact.
More than once he regretted his promise to make no attempts to control her behavior, now that it seemed in dire need of control. Still, he would not break that promise. In fact, it occurred to him that this whole campaign of hers might be an elaborate test of that very promise.
During the day, at least, he was able to find distraction in the House of Lords, where controversy surrounding the impending Corn Bill was mounting. One day when the weather was unexpectedly fine, however, he'd taken his horse instead of the carriage. Riding home by way of Hyde Park Corner, he saw a familiar profile in a high-perch phaeton entering the Park just ahead of him.
Without thinking, he spurred his mount forward. “I bid you good afternoon, my lady. I'd thought to suggest a drive myself when I reached home, but I see you are already engaged.”
Nessa and Sir Lawrence, for it was he driving the phaeton, turned with varying degrees of surprise and alarm.
“Why hello, Jack,” his wife greeted him with one of her bright smiles. “The sunshine was so lovely that I couldn't bear to refuse when Sir Lawrence invited me out. I'd no idea you'd quit your legislative duties so early.”
“Obviously.” Jack couldn't help glowering a bit, if only to enjoy the effect upon Sir Lawrence. To his surprise, however, the young man met his eye squarely, if nervously.
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