by Golden Angel
With something approaching a growl, his hand tightened on hers as his eyes flashed rather dangerously and Cynthia suddenly realized that she was baiting a tiger with a very short stick. An uncaged tiger.
"Oh Wesley, couldn't you do something about your hair?" The Countess' dismayed tones preceded her down the stairs and Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief as the Earl straightened, his grip on her fingers loosening slightly. She yanked her hand back as the Earl looked past her up and his mother, and used the opportunity to slide sideways and away from him.
“My hair is fine, Mother,” he said, obviously somewhat exasperated and yet his tone with her was as respectful and gentle as always. He bowed as she reached them. “You look lovely tonight.”
The older woman’s face lit up at the compliment from her eldest son. Not that his words were anything but the truth; she was garbed in a dark burgundy gown with a black netted overgown, both trimmed with silver, and she looked the epitome of a fashionable matron of the ton. The garnets shining around her neck and at her ears emphasized her position and status, as if her regal bearing wasn’t enough. It was at times like this that Cynthia found the Countess most intimidating.
Fortunately the Countess looked at her with every evidence of approval as she thanked her son. “Cynthia, you look parfait! That dress is exquisite, Madame Bissette truly outdid herself.”
Cynthia beamed at the Countess, bobbing a small curtsy that caused her breasts to look particularly precariously confined to the dress and Wesley caught his breath. In London he’d seen plenty of fashions with lower necklines, but somehow with Cynthia’s ample curves even a neckline this low seemed too much. Not that his mother noticed, but the other gentlemen at the Assembly tonight certainly would.
And probably not the ones he would approve of as a husband for Cynthia.
Grimly foreseeing a rather frustrating evening ahead, Wesley ushered his mother and Cynthia out to the waiting carriage.
******
Edwin and Wesley stood at the edges of the room, watching Miss Bryant and Eleanor as they passed through the steps of a quadrille with their respective partners. Surprisingly, for once, there seemed to be more gentlemen willing to dance then there were women to dance with – Wesley supposed it was the fact that most eligible young ladies were currently in London for the end of the Season, hanging onto the hope that they might make a match of it before the Season ended – so he and Edwin didn’t have to stand up for every set. If there had been young ladies sitting out, the Countess would have expected both of them to step up and do their duty, as she saw it.
Watching Eleanor laugh up into her partner’s face, Edwin had to struggle only slightly with the jealousy that clawed its way up his chest. Since their arrival in Bath his and Eleanor’s relationship seemed to have taken another turn. A much gentler one – other than the spanking she’d earned for her attitude. He knew that, on some level, her body enjoyed receiving discipline as much as he enjoyed meting it out, but she wasn’t willing to admit that and she always was on her best behavior after a punishment.
A slow smile spread across his face as he remembered this morning, when he gave her the opportunity to explore his body again and she’d taken full advantage of it. This time she hadn’t relented with her mouth until he’d spurted his seed, and she’d swallowed every drop of it. The many blessings of a passionate and curious wife. Afterwards, he’d tied her wrists to the bed and made his own leisurely exploration of her body, ending with his mouth on her clit and his fingers stroking the insides of her heated quim. By the time she climaxed for him, he was already hard and aching again and he’d taken the opportunity to bury himself inside of her while she was still limp and quivering from her climax.
They hadn’t left their bed till well past noon.
Now, as he watched her dancing with other men, he could still feel the jealousy rising up inside him every time she smiled or laughed, but it was accompanied by a kind of warm security. He’d been wooing her, not just while they were in bed, but with long talks and gifts and a showering of affection. His wife was a wonderfully tactile creature, and he’d found that she rather enjoyed snuggling up under his arm while they were reading together in the afternoons. The sensation of having her there was a bit distracting, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. And it seemed as though the more innocent caresses and embraces they shared, the warmer and more open she became towards him.
Not once, since they’d come to Bath, had she reverted to the cold ice queen that she had occasionally inflicted on him while they were in London. He still didn’t know exactly what had made her run hot and cold towards him, but he hoped that her current behavior was an indication that his tactics and affections would mean that her attitude towards him would continue to be more stable.
Next to him, Wesley growled under his breath, and Edwin turned his attention towards his friend. Wesley’s attitude towards his ward was providing both Eleanor and Edwin with a great amount of entertainment, especially this evening when he was watching over her like a hawk.
“Is something wrong?” Edwin queried, his tone entirely innocent as he covered up his amusement. Wesley just continued scowling in the direction of the dance floor and Edwin had to cough to cover a laugh. “You could always dance with her again, if it bothers you so much.”
“What?” Wesley whipped his head around, looking at Edwin suspiciously. But Edwin had seen the way that Wesley watched his ward.
“It’d be totally acceptable, as her guardian, to secure a second dance with her,” Edwin said blandly. Unusual, but acceptable. They’d already done the pretty once, while Edwin danced with Eleanor, but as Wesley had danced with the Countess and Eleanor, Edwin had seen where his friend’s eyes had been watching. And since they’d retired from the dance floor, Wesley hadn’t looked anywhere else.
Even his mother was eying him speculatively, not that he seemed to notice. And Wesley always noticed.
Now he seemed to be thinking over Edwin’s words and giving them serious merit. Then he shook his head and Edwin had to hide another grin. “No. I can watch her just as easily from here.”
While Edwin had happily stepped into marriage in order to secure Eleanor, and Hugh hadn’t fought the steps leading to his marriage with Irene, it appeared that Wesley wasn’t going to go quietly. In fact, his reaction was that of a man who was going to fight his emotions to the bitter end. But Edwin didn’t doubt that Wesley was attracted to Miss Bryant, even if she was a bigger handful then Nell. Privately he thought that might not be a bad thing; he wanted his friend to find the same happiness in marriage that he had, and he didn’t think that would be possible if Wesley married one of the proper debutantes and kept a mistress on the side. A wilder and less proper wife like Miss Bryant would keep Wesley quite occupied.
The dance ended and gentlemen very properly escorted Eleanor and Miss Bryant back to him and Wesley. There were several obvious rakes in attendance, but so far they’d held back from approaching either of the ladies as they were well guarded by Wesley and Edwin.
Eleanor and Miss Bryant immediately began chatting, both flush from their exertions. Resting a gentle hand on his wife’s back, Edwin enjoyed the way she immediately leaned towards him, as orientated towards him as he was to her. To his amusement, both Wesley and Miss Bryant were doing something similar, although of course Wesley didn’t touch her. But there was something in both of their stances that made it clear, to him, that they were both very aware of each other. The little sidelong looks that Miss Bryant was giving her guardian, as well as Wesley’s blatantly intentional way of not looking at her, now that she was off the dance floor, said volumes.
“Is it like this in London?” Miss Bryant asked Eleanor, giving Wesley another little look from beneath her eyelashes. For all intents and purposes, his focus seemed to be on the other side of the room, but Edwin could see the way Wesley’s eyes drifted back towards Miss Bryant before he jerked back to the direction he was facing. “The Countess says this is tame compared to the entertainmen
ts there.”
“This is more enjoyable than London, in many ways,” Eleanor said, laughing. She tipped her head back up to share an intimate look with Edwin and he couldn’t help but grin back at her; she was so alight with happiness. He, too, preferred Bath at the moment. “I much prefer the room to dance – and plenty of gentlemen to dance with – than to some of the crushes that we attended during the Season.”
Undaunted by her reference to the many gentlemen, Edwin just slid his hand to her hip and tightened his fingers a bit. “I prefer the gentlemen here as well.”
Eleanor laughed, tapping her fan against his chest in teasing reproof, as Wesley chuckled. Miss Bryant looked confused, but of course she wouldn’t understand that the London ballrooms were filled with the kind of gentlemen that Edwin would prefer to keep away from his wife. He was sure that he was fulfilling Eleanor’s needs, she would never become one of the bored matrons of the ton if he had anything to say about it, but he still preferred to keep her away from the rakes and roués that were always looking for a bored matron and a complacent husband.
Most of the gentlemen here were either younger men who had fled the capital and the matchmaking mamas as soon as it was permissible or older men who didn’t have wives to insist they finish out the very end of the Season. The older gentlemen were the ones that would be looking at Miss Bryant as a bride, the younger men were practicing their flirts with her, but the truly dangerous gentlemen who were present took one look at Wesley and moved on to easier game. Although, Edwin had seen more than one of them acknowledge her; apparently before Wesley’s arrival Miss Bryant had made the acquaintance of every single rakehell currently in Bath.
One of the older gentlemen, Mr. Bright, came up to claim Miss Bryant’s hand for the next dance. Perfectly eligible, cousin to a Marquess, and obviously on the lookout for a wife, and yet Wesley gave the man a suspicious look anyway. This time even Eleanor caught his obvious reluctance to let Miss Bryant off his arm. Edwin saw the surprise on her face before Mr. Marks came to claim her for the next dance. She shot a glance at Edwin, her sapphire eyes sparkling with amusement at Wesley’s behavior.
Just then, the Countess appeared at Wesley’s side, a pretty but very young lady at her side. Actually beaming at her son, she pushed the young miss forward.
“Wesley, this is Miss Whyte. She’ll be making her debut next Season in London but her mother wanted her to experience some of the social life here in Bath before that. Miss Whyte, this is my son, the Earl of Spencer.”
“Oh!” Miss Whyte said, fluttering her eyelashes up at him as if his title was news to her. Which was ridiculous considering that the Countess must have already told her. If she hadn’t even come out yet then she must still be technically in the schoolroom. Dressed in a charming pastel pink dress that was the height of fashion, and nevertheless made her look rather washed out with her pale hair and eyes, she was the epitome of everything that Wesley avoided while in London. She dropped to a curtsy, fluttering her eyelashes. “It’s an honor to meet you my Lord.”
She simpered up at him and Edwin barely smothered his laugh as Wesley stared at her, then his mother, in complete horror. It was only as the breathless miss looked up to meet his eyes again that he blanked the expression from his face.
"Miss Whyte," he said, bowing over her hand. "May I also introduce my friend, Lord Hyde."
"My lord," Miss Whyte said in acknowledgment, but without the simper. It was obvious that the Countess had informed her that Edwin was ineligible as future husband material. Which was a relief; he only had to deal with the bored matrons that Wesley normally preferred, who were looking for a sensual distraction from their husbands. Debs no longer had any interest in him whatsoever.
"Miss Whyte was just telling me how much she loves to dance," the Countess said, absolutely irrepressible, despite the glare that her son was giving her over the young lady's head. Ignoring him completely, she gave the young miss an encouraging smile, before turning it onto Wesley himself. "My son is a wonderful dancer."
"Yes, but as you see I can't desert Lord Hyde and leave him bereft of all company."
"Oh, I can certainly keep Edwin company," the Countess said, her gaze sharpening. "I had something I particularly wanted to speak of with him."
There was nothing Wesley could do at that point; his mother had neatly trapped him into a position where his options were either to be unconscionably rude or to ask the young lady to dance. And Wesley always did what was proper, especially in front of his mother.
Covering up his chagrin with a bow, Wesley held out his hand to Miss Whyte. "Well then. Miss Whyte, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
"Oh yes, my Lord," she said breathlessly, eyes shining with anticipatory pleasure that bordered on being predatory, despite the fact that she couldn’t have missed his reluctance. It was that kind of behavior that made Edwin eternally grateful that he had Eleanor; even when she had first been presented, he couldn't imagine Nell behaving like that.
The set had just started, so they'd barely missed a step, and Wesley led the young woman out onto the floor to join the other couples.
"There was something you wished to speak of with me?" Edwin asked, rather curious now. He couldn't think of anything the Countess might wish to say to him that she couldn't say in front of others.
"No of course not, don't be dense. I just needed Wesley to dance with Miss Whyte."
Edwin laughed at the Countess' high handed ways. "Why? You can't imagine he would seriously consider a schoolroom miss like her, not even next Season when she's out."
The Countess shook her head. "Really Edwin, your lack of experience in the marriage mart is appalling. My son is bound and determined to marry a proper young chit, at some point in the future, but he'd be absolutely miserable with the kind of milk and water miss he'd undoubtedly pick out for himself. And no matter what he thinks, having a mistress, or even several, on the side can't make up for that. Once he’s been forced to interact with a few of them, he'll realize his intolerance for them and my Cynthia will look even better by comparison."
"Your Cynthia?" Edwin asked; he'd been following the Countess' logic up to a certain point but she'd just lost him completely. "What does she have to do with it?"
"Why, she's perfect for him, of course!" The Countess waved her hand at the dance floor where it was perfectly obvious to Edwin, knowing his friend as he did, that Wesley's attention was focused far more on his ward than on the chattering Miss Whyte. "She's clever, she's lively, she's far more interesting than any of the usual misses - Nell excluded of course, and he's already interested in her but he's resisting. The twit." She snorted. "I drag him all the way out of London to Bath so that he could see her before any other real competition engages her attention and he can't see what's in front of his face."
"I thought you were despairing of her," Edwin said, thoroughly startled and slightly in awe. He hadn't realized how devious the Countess was.
"Well I was, a bit," she admitted, continuing to watch the couples whirl around the floor, looking rather calculating. "She's a handful, but that's what makes her perfect for Wesley. He'd never be happy with a woman who didn't have a sense of adventure and the gumption to indulge in it. Cynthia has a bit of maturing to do, but I'll be here to guide her, and Wesley needs to snap her up before some other, more discerning and ready to act, gentleman realizes what a treasure she is. Of course, the more young misses I can push at him that drive him batty, the more he'll appreciate Cynthia." That last was said rather contemplatively, her eyes already roving around the room as if looking for her next decoy.
"My god..." Edwin stared at her in complete wonder. Thank goodness he'd had the sense to shackle himself to Nell immediately, and he was even more grateful that his mother preferred to stay out of London. Although, he didn't mind giving up his bachelorhood and rakehell days for his wife, so perhaps his mother wouldn't have resorted to such straights.
Although, he could see Eleanor's mother doing so if she thought that he w
as blind to Nell's charms. After all, her own father had been the one to approach him. Obviously no one felt he needed as delicate a hand as Wesley had.
The Countess smiled as she watched the couples on the dance floor. This particular set required some switching of partners throughout the dance, and Wesley had masterfully maneuvered himself and Miss Whyte so that they would be trading with Mr. Bright and Cynthia.
"Watch. A few more dances with empty headed misses and a few quiet spinsters, and Wesley will realize that a young lady like Cynthia is exactly to his temperament." And with that, the Countess swanned off again as the last notes of music were played, presumably to find Wesley another partner before the next dance started.
******
It was utterly demoralizing to realize that being an Earl still meant trotting at the behest of one's mother, Wesley decided, four interminable dances later. She'd practically thrown Miss Whyte at him, followed by Miss Lovelace, Miss Smith and Miss Prentice. Although Miss Prentice wasn't so bad compared to the other three; she was on the shelf at eight and twenty, but he still thought she'd make some other chap an admirable wife. At least she had a brain in her head which was more than could be said for his previous dance partners, even if she was too quiet and retiring for him to find her intriguing.
Taking the initiative, he secured his mother's hand for the next dance, rather than waiting for her to foist the young lady at her side on him. With every evidence of delight, she followed him out onto the floor.
"Madame, just what do you think you are doing?" he asked, finally showing some of the pent up aggravation that had been building all evening. Even before his mother started lobbing young misses at his head, if he was to be honest about it. Trying to look out for a suitable husband for Cynthia was turning out to be harder than he'd expected. And finding a distraction for himself, even more so. The fashionable, bored matrons of the ton were apparently all seeing out the end of the Season in London, not Bath, and there wasn't even an attractive young widow around. Not a likely prospect in sight, and so he'd had nothing more to do than watch as Cynthia danced with gentleman after gentleman, none of them quite right for her. "When you threatened to descend upon London to find me a bride if I didn't make my way to Bath, I presumed that meant my presence in Bath would stay such attempts."