Annette Blair - Scandalous Brides

“Oh! Oh, Jack,” she breathed, her heart still hammering as the urgency of passion slowly ebbed. “That was amazing. You are amazing.”

He breathed a long sigh of satisfaction. “As are you, my love.”

She swallowed. It was the first time he'd called her that since their marriage. Did it mean more now, or was it still simply a careless phrase to him?

As her heartbeat and breathing slowed, she became aware of other sounds—of something that sounded like distant cheering. Jack apparently heard it too, for he frowned questioningly at her, then moved to rise. She extricated herself from him and they separated far enough to sit up on the divan. The cheering seemed to be coming from behind the ferns, beyond the wall. Turning, horror slowly dawned. The wall of glass.

She turned to face Jack, her eyes wide, and at the same moment he began to curse, softly but fluently. Turning his back to the wall, he quickly refastened his breeches. Belatedly following his lead, Nessa pulled down her skirts and adjusted her disarranged bodice. One breast had sprung free, and she hurriedly pulled the neckline of her gown back into place.

“You don't think… they're not actually watching us , are they?” she asked shakily. “The ferns—”

He glanced up at the blazing gas lights above them. “I'm not certain, but I doubt those ferns offer us much cover, given how bright it is in here and how dark outside. That must be the courtyard.”

Panic began to grip her. “Then those are not merely passersby on the street, but other guests here tonight?”

He nodded ruefully. “I fear so. I should never have let you persuade me to this, my dear. I did know better, though the composition of the wall quite escaped me.”

Nessa groaned. “I knew it was glass—or, at least, I noticed it before, but forgot. Still, Jack,” she nestled against him, and the renewed cheers from outside confirmed her fears, “it was worth it, I think.”

His look was quizzical. “Certainly I think so, but have you considered how we are to leave? We'll have to face at least some or them. Or shall we hold our heads high and pretend nothing is amiss?”

Nessa closed her eyes for a moment in mortification, but then began to laugh— though her laughter held an edge of hysteria. “What have we to lose?” she asked. “But first, let us move away from this enormous window!”

Ten minutes later, having passed each other's inspection (though Jack's cravat and Nessa's hair could not be what they were, without valet or abigail), the two of them reentered the ballroom. Ten seconds later, it was obvious their liaison was already general knowledge. Titters and curious stares followed them across the room.

Nessa knew her face was flaming, but she kept her chin high, though she did perhaps grip Jack's arm more tightly than usual. A glance showed her that his color had deepened as well, though he appeared on the verge of laughter. Quickly, Nessa averted her eyes for fear she might start giggling uncontrollably. People were staring enough as it was.

A dance had just ended and another was about to form, but though Nessa knew she was promised to someone for the next one, she was not particularly surprised when no one came forward to claim her. Gathering her courage, she looked about the room. One or two older gentlemen stared back boldly, but most seemed unwilling to meet her eye. Then she saw the Creamcrofts nearby, in conversation with another couple. How on earth could she ever face them again?

She was about to tell Jack that she'd changed her mind and would prefer to leave after all, when Prudence turned and saw her. Rather to Nessa's surprise, she murmured something to Philip, then came to greet her, eyes filled with concern.

“Nessa, my lord, surely— surely — the tale I've just been told cannot be true?” Prudence looked from Nessa to Jack and back, and must have had her answer from their conscious looks and heightened complexions. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, then drew Nessa aside with a stern glance at Jack.

“What exactly happened?” she whispered when they had taken a few steps away. “I have no idea what to say to people!”

Though mortified as much for Prudence's sake as her own, Nessa was glad of the chance to get her confession over. “I took your advice rather too literally, I fear, Prudence. Finding myself alone with Jack in the conservatory, I, ah, took advantage of the situation… as did he.”

Her sister blushed, but persisted. “'Twas shockingly bad judgment on both your parts—but how were you discovered? Surely you were not mad enough to leave the door open. Who walked in upon you? It seems everyone here is aware of it already!”

“Have you seen the conservatory, Prudence?” Her sister shook her head. “Well, it would seem that it has a, um, glass wall which is adjacent to the courtyard, screened only by some ferns. Somehow that escaped our notice until it was too late.”

Prudence stared at her for a moment as her import sank in, then covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Her shoulders began to quiver, and for a moment Nessa thought her sister was on the verge of tears. But then a gasp escaped from behind the concealing hand and she realized her prim and proper sister was struggling with laughter!

For the second time in as many weeks, Nessa regarded Prudence with astonishment. Was this the prudish sister she'd known all her life?

“So your, ah, display was quite unintentional?” she gasped after a moment.

Nessa nodded, her own lips beginning to twitch. “We must have put on quite a show, I fear.”

For a moment the sisters clung to each other, struggling to subdue their mirth. Then, abruptly, Prudence sobered. “Oh, Nessa, 'twill be the talk of London by morning! Whatever are you going to do? Perhaps a discreet return to Kent…?”

Nessa turned to see Jack a few paces away, regarding them with a curious frown. “Perhaps. I'll discuss it with Jack. Thank you, Prudence, for not abandoning me! I fear most will be less forgiving.”

“We are sisters,” said Prudence stoutly. “And besides, I have you to thank for…” She glanced over her shoulder at Philip and pinkened again. “For certain improvements in my own situation. Let me know if there is any way I can help.”

Squeezing her hands, Nessa smiled. “You already have, Prudence. More than you know. Now go back to your husband, and I'll return to mine, to discuss how we are to weather this development.”

Jack came forward the moment Prudence departed. “What was that about? Did I actually see Lady Creamcroft laughing ?”

Nessa grinned. “Prudence has loosened up considerably in recent weeks, and seems the happier for it.”

“So have you, my love.” There was that word again, but Nessa tried not to set too much store by it. That they could be affectionate toward each other again was enough— for now.

“I suppose I have. However, I'm not sure Society as a whole will see it as an improvement.” She lapsed into thought for a moment. “How does one get to the courtyard, my lord? I have a mind to see it.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Yes, I suppose we'd best discover just what we're up against, hadn't we? This way.” He led her through a set of French doors at one end of the ballroom, both of them resolutely ignoring the laughter and whispering that marked their progress.

A marble terrace led down into a large garden area, still winter-bleak and only dimly lighted, primarily from the surrounding windows. Paved paths wove between intricately laid gardens which would doubtless be a blaze of color in a few months' time. Now, however, they were either clean raked or masses of low, leafless shrubs.

“There,” said Jack, pointing.

Nessa looked. One floor above them was a wide expanse of glass, providing the bulk of the courtyard illumination. From here, the conservatory appeared nearly as fairylike as from within, a lush jungle of vegetation and flowers ablaze with light. And there, barely screened at all by the airy ferns, stood a backless divan—the very one the two of them had so recently… occupied.