Annette Blair - Scandalous Brides

“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 adjourned 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.