Mallory folded her hands in her lap, wondering why it sounded as if Daphne was doing that very thing.
“But now you’re here,” her old friend continued, “and this dreary day gives us the perfect excuse to stay inside and catch up on all the news.”
“What news might that be?” Mallory asked, little caring about the answer.
“Oh, all the doings with our old crowd. You don’t know since you missed the Season, but Harcourt Mason is being received at Veronica Lancaster’s country home this summer. You know how those two got on, so imagine my astonishment…”
Nodding at what she hoped were appropriate intervals, Mallory let Daphne talk. The other woman barely paused for breath as she rattled on, apparently happy to carry the whole of the conversation. As she did, Mallory found herself wondering if she’d ever really enjoyed such mindless chatter and idle gossip. She guessed she must have…before. But now it all seemed like a rather meaningless waste of time although admittedly one in which many members of Society frequently indulged. Daphne, she realized, was the same as she’d ever been—pretty, effervescent and unapologetically spoiled. She hadn’t changed.
Instead I am the one who’s changed, Mallory thought. I am the one who no longer fits in.
“So you’ll come then?” Daphne was saying. “For you simply must visit. Harold and I would love to have you over to the estate, and while you’re there, I can introduce you to any number of eligible men. I know it might seem too soon, but it has been more than a year already, and by next Season…well, the new crop of debutantes always crowds the field. Just look at our poor Jessica. She’ll be three-and-twenty next year. I hesitate to say this, but if she doesn’t make a match soon, she may find herself on the shelf for good.”
Leaning over, she patted the top of Mallory’s hand again. “There’s no rush for you, of course, not yet anyway. But I would hate to see you delay too long before you start circulating again. If you do, all the really choice gentlemen may be taken, and you’ll end up having to choose someone who is well…how should I put this…not worthy of your level of refinement and beauty.”
Mallory’s spine drew straight as a post, her mouth tightening.
“Unless there’s something—or rather someone—about whom you’re not telling me.” Daphne shot her an encouraging smile.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Gresham, of course. You’ve been thick as thieves with him ever since he arrived.”
“Adam and I are friends, you know that,” Mallory said, her voice stiff.
“Well, yes, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before he came into funds, goose. Now that he has a feather to fly with—or rather a great many feathers—he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Society. Every Mama from Dover to Dundee will be lining up to catch him for her daughter. Unless you snag him first.”
“Well, I won’t,” Mallory shot back, her skin literally prickling with anger. “Nor am I interested in snagging any man when I’m barely out of mourning. I think it’s incredibly unfeeling of you to even suggest such an idea. And here you claim to understand how I feel about Michael’s death. Well you don’t, but then how could you when you’ve never lost anyone or anything you ever truly loved.”
Daphne sputtered, a hand going to her throat.
Mallory jumped to her feet. “I’ll hear no more about this, and I expect you not to mention the subject to anyone else either. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I am wanted across the room.”
She wasn’t, of course, but she couldn’t bear to remain anywhere near Daphne at the moment. Turning a deaf ear to her friend’s pleading, she marched away. Tears stung her eyes, and she moved without direction, wanting only to escape. Then, suddenly, Adam was there, his tall frame blocking her path.
“What has happened?” he demanded in a low tone, bending briefly in order to set down the drinks he’d procured for each of them.
“N-nothing, it’s nothing. I just have a headache of a sudden.”
Gently, he led her toward a corner where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Balderdash. You don’t have a headache. I saw you talking with Lady Damson. What has she said to distress you so?”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “The details aren’t important, and I’d prefer not to say.”
His shoulders squared. “It was about Hargreaves, I suppose.”
And you, she thought. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “He was mentioned,” she said.
Adam didn’t respond, his body visibly on edge. Abruptly though, he relaxed and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to leave? I’m sure we could find a way to escape without too much notice. We could even play that game of chess in the library, if you’d like, or stroll in the orangery. Unless you want to return to your room.”
I would like nothing else, she realized. Yet despite what Adam said, people would notice her retreat, including a few who had probably noticed her exchanging words with Daphne. Her family would be worried and the others curious to know what had been said. She’d caused enough talk since the house party started. She didn’t want to cause any more.
She shook her head. “No, I shall stay.”
“You’re certain?”
Her eyes now dry, she drew herself up and met Adam’s gaze. “Yes, it’s time I stopped hiding in my room like a coward. No matter what was said, I shall be fine.”
He skimmed a finger over her cheek. “That’s my girl.”
She trembled, an odd wave of guilt washing through her at his tenderness, guilt and something more that she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Stepping free of his touch, she nodded toward their abandoned beverages. “I’ll try some of that lemonade now.”
“Of course.” Retrieving the drinks, he handed her a tall, cool glass. For himself, he’d chosen red wine. “More cards?” he asked, taking a swallow from his goblet.
She shook her head. “I was thinking it might be more entertaining to see what the children are up to. I believe Esme and the others are engaged in a rousing match of jackstraws and marbles.”
In deference to the gloomy weather, the adults had agreed that the young people should be invited down from the schoolroom for the afternoon so they might partake in the drawing-room festivities. Even the babies had been brought downstairs for a while before growing too tired and fussy to remain.
“Unless child’s play is beneath your dignity, my lord?” she said.
His eyebrows arched high. “Come now, when have you ever known me to be too high in the instep for a bit of light-hearted fun? Although I suspect I may need a refresher in the finer points of both games, since I don’t think I’ve played jackstraws or marbles since I was eight or nine years old.”
“Then it is time you learned anew.” Slipping her hand over his arm, she led him forward, hoping the game proved to be just the distraction she needed.
Mallory wasn’t sure how, but she managed to endure the remainder of the day. She even enjoyed herself on occasion, especially as she listened to Adam tease and jolly the Byron and Marsden girls until they were convulsed with uncontrollable laughter.
Hearing their merriment, Leo, Lawrence and Spencer Byron lowered their own dignity enough to join the group. Unable to control their nature, the twins began flirting with seventeen-year-old Ella Marsden, who was soon blushing to the roots of her blond hair.
Their antics earned them several severe frowns from Mallory, which only seemed to increase their efforts. Once Adam noticed, however, all it took was a few quiet words, and they grew circumspect as a pair of clergymen.
As evening approached, the festivities came to a temporary halt so everyone could retire upstairs to rest and change their attire for dinner. After a brief nap, Mallory selected an evening gown of figured copper silk that lent her skin an extra glow of vitality.
Seated between Adam and Cade, she found that the dinner went easily. Then it was time for the ladies to withdraw. Determined to follow through
on her pledge not to hide away—or at least to make the attempt not to—Mallory ignored the impulse to go upstairs to her room and followed the others into the drawing room instead.
Sticking close to Claire, Grace and Meg, she was able to avoid any further conversations with Daphne, who tried once or twice to gain her attention. And then, the gentlemen arrived, strolling in with the last of their brandy in hand and the lingering aroma of cheroots on their clothes.
With the rain still drumming against the windowpanes, there was no possibility of taking an evening stroll in the gardens or engaging in any other outdoor entertainments. With an eager smile, Jessica Milbank stepped up to the pianoforte and gave a lively, well-executed performance. When she finished, someone suggested the idea of dancing, which was greeted with great enthusiasm. And to Jessica’s obvious relief, cousin Wilhelmina graciously offered to take her place at the pianoforte—the widowed Mrs Byron declaring it was the young people who had the energy for such activities.
While several of the others in the room began arranging themselves for a cotillion, Mallory settled on the sofa next to Meg and sipped her tea.
Suddenly Niall Faversham appeared before her and bowed, his pale hair brushed back from his attractive face with casual disregard. “Lady Mallory, would you care to take a turn with me? I promise I shall be especially careful and not step on your toes.”
“I’m sure there’s no danger of that, Mr Faversham,” she said, well aware of what an excellent dancer he was. “I thank you for your invitation, but I’m afraid I am not dancing tonight.”
“What’s this about not dancing?” declared Lord Howland, who stepped forward to join their small circle. “But you must dance, my dear Lady Mallory. With me!”
“I beg to differ, Howland,” Faversham complained. “I asked her first.”
“Yes, but she has refused you.” Howland grinned, displaying his teeth with their crooked upper incisors. “Obviously she was waiting until I arrived so I could ask her.”
“The devil you say,” Faversham retorted. “She only needs a moment more to reconsider her decision and say she will stand up with me.”
“I’m sure she’d sooner take to the floor with an orangutan.”
“Which is exactly why she’ll have no interest in you, what with that thatch of red on your head that you call hair.”
If Mallory hadn’t known they were friends, she might have been alarmed. Instead, she couldn’t help but smile over their bickering. “Gentlemen, you are both very kind to ask, but I simply must say—”
“Yes,” Meg interrupted. “Oh, do go on, Mallory, and choose one of them. If I didn’t have Oswald on board here,” she said, patting her mounded stomach, “I assure you I’d be dancing.”
“I thought you were calling the baby Neville?” Mallory observed.
“I was, but it’s Oswald now.” Meg shared a saucy wink with her that went completely over the heads of the two men.
“Listen to the wise counsel of your sister-in-law, my lady,” Lord Howland said. “Come say you will dance.”
“Yes, choose one of us as Lady Cade so eloquently suggested,” Mr Faversham said. “Choose me.”
Mallory hesitated, wondering how she had come to such an unanticipated pass. Glancing out into the room, she searched for Adam. Her lips parted when she discovered him making his way onto the makeshift dance floor with Jessica Milbank on his arm.
Apparently, Jessica had given up on Drake—who’d taken convenient refuge on the far side of the room with Lord Edgewater and Lord Damson—and had transferred her interests elsewhere. That in itself didn’t surprise Mallory. What did was the fact that Adam had accepted her overtures.
Mallory’s brows lowered, her earlier conversation with Daphne replaying itself in her head. Had Daphne said something to Jessica about Adam? Had she mentioned perhaps that Mallory had renounced any claims to him, leaving Jessica free to invite his attentions. Which, she was, of course. But still, Adam and Jessica…it was almost unfathomable.
Mallory forced herself not to grimace, wishing now that she had gone upstairs after all. But she’d promised she would make more of an effort to join in, and what better way to do so than participating in the activity at hand.
“Very well,” Mallory said. “You have convinced me, and I shall dance.”
Faversham and Howland straightened to their tallest heights and squared their shoulders, each clearly vying to cut the most appealing figure.
“So, which one of us will you choose, Lady Mallory?” Lord Howland asked.
She shot another glance toward Adam and Jessica, her fingers curling into a fist when she saw Jessica playfully tap her fan against Adam’s chest, then toss back her head on a laugh.
“I’ll dance with you both,” Mallory declared, turning her attention back to her two admirers. “Mr Faversham shall partner me first, since he made the earliest claim, and then you, Lord Howland.”
Although not wholly satisfied at having to share her favours, the two men nodded in agreement.
Mr Faversham extended his arm. Rising from the sofa, Mallory let him lead her forward.
Pity has a lot to answer for, Adam thought, as he affixed a polite expression to his face and listened to Jessica Milbank regale him with a list of all her favourite haunts in London—most of which happened to be millinery shops.
After she’d been excused from the duty of playing piano for the assembled company, Jessica had walked out into the centre of the room and waited, clearly expecting one of the gentlemen to ask her to dance. He’d watched as she cast a hopeful glance toward Drake, noticing his very determined interest in whatever Lord Edgewater was saying—despite the fact that he knew Drake couldn’t stand the other man’s Tory politics. Realizing that her first choice of partner wasn’t going to solicit her hand, she’d begun casting about for someone else. During her visual sweep of the room, her gaze had landed on Adam, and she’d sent him a painfully hopeful smile.
Aware that Mallory was settled comfortably on the sofa next to Meg, he decided to take pity and act the gallant toward her friend. After all, it was only one dance.
Unfortunately, Miss Milbank lit up as brightly as a small sun at his invitation, giggling and mincing and flirting with all her might, as they made their way to the floor. He was silently repeating his bit of optimistic rationalization regarding the promised dance with Miss Milbank when he glanced toward Mallory and felt his eyes go wide.
Flanking her on either side were Howland and Faversham, the pair obviously attempting to work their wiles on her. Poor fellows, he thought with amused sympathy, since he knew Mallory would refuse them, given that this was her first full evening back among company.
But then, not less than a minute later, she stood and accepted Faversham’s arm.
Adam’s mouth tightened, his eyebrows drawing into a severe downward slant. Surely she hasn’t said yes.
He watched as the pair strolled forward to join the couples assembled for the dancing. Sweet Jesu, it looks as if she has said yes!
“Is something amiss, my lord?” Jessica Milbank asked in a quiet voice, a small vee of concern wrinkling the bridge of her petite pug nose.
Glancing down, he realized he’d completely forgotten the young woman waiting at his side. Recovering immediately, he fashioned a smile. “Of course not, Miss Milbank. I am merely anxious for the dancing to begin.”
Her confidence returned. “Oh, it shouldn’t be long now, I expect. Only look at everyone who is taking part.”
And she was right, a full eight couples were gathered to partake in the lively entertainment. In addition to himself and Miss Milbank, there were Jack and Grace, Edward and Claire, Quentin and India, Lady Damson and Mr Hughes—and Mallory and Faversham, of course. Some of the even younger set were joining in as well, since earlier Ava Byron and Claire had both agreed that there could be no real harm in letting the older girls escape the schoolroom for the evening. This left Leo to partner Ella Marsden, while Lawrence did the same for his cousin Anna.
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Given the war injury that had left Cade with a limp, he no longer danced. But he didn’t seem to mind, especially since he’d slipped into Mallory’s abandoned spot on the sofa next to Meg. The couple sat murmuring to each other, their heads bent close, as if they were courting rather than starting the third year of their marriage.
“Is everyone ready to begin?” Cousin Wilhelmina called in a happy voice from her place at the pianoforte.
“We are indeed, cousin,” Leo replied. “Play us something rollicking.”
Chuckles rose at his exuberance as everyone arranged themselves into the proper positions. To Adam’s frustration, he found himself at one end of the room, while Mallory stood at the other. Briefly, he met her gaze. Then the music began and, seconds after, the first steps of the dance.
Miss Milbank resumed her patter, politeness forcing him to evince enough interest that she wouldn’t realize that his real thoughts lay elsewhere. When he could, he glanced toward Mallory, watching as Faversham skilfully led her in the lively movements, ones that soon added a pretty pink to her cheeks.
By the time the first dance concluded, Mallory’s eyes were bright, a hint of a smile hovering on her lips. She has always loved to dance, Adam thought as he bowed to Jessica Milbank and she curtseyed back.
With skilful finesse, he soon managed to detach himself from Miss Milbank in a friendly way, putting her in the hands of Mr Hughes for the next dance. The duke’s young secretary looked a tad dazed by the introduction, but as Adam strode away, Hughes seemed genuinely pleased with Miss Milbank’s companionship. And, if Adam guessed right, she with his.
Crossing to where Mallory stood, still conversing with Mr Faversham, Adam made her a bow. “Lady Mallory. Would you care to stand up with me for the next set, assuming it hasn’t already been claimed?”
Wicked Delights Of A Bridal Bed Page 9