Silk And Seduction Bundle 2

Pansy, having made her selection, bustled up to her and unbuttoned the back of her gown, while Midge pulled off her soiled gloves.

Changing into a clean gown was the least of her worries. Once Pansy had made her look respectable again, she was going to have to go downstairs and face all those guests, having just turned what should have been a solemn and sacred occasion into something resembling a farce.

She disappeared under layers of satin and lace as Pansy pulled the ruined gown over her head, and emerged with scarlet cheeks. When she thought of the way Viscount Mildenhall had practically frogmarched her down the aisle!

Though, to give him credit, he had hung on to his temper until then. In fact, he had been surprisingly sympathetic to her, all things considered. He had not automatically sided with her uncle over the question of Stephen. He had even sent Rick to investigate. And he had promised they would discuss it all later.

Once the wedding breakfast was over.

Her stomach did a little somersault at the prospect of being alone with him again. The episode in the coach had been such a staggering surprise. She had never experienced anything like it!

Except—she frowned as Pansy stood her up to lace her into her fresh gown—for a few fleeting moments during their tussle on Lady Carteret’s terrace.

As Pansy pushed her down onto the stool again and set about her rioting curls with a hairbrush, she wondered if he had been attempting to…not punish her. Discipline her, perhaps? He had given her some kind of warning about her behaviour before he had begun to ravish her mouth, but for the life of her she could not remember exactly what he had said.

Though he had definitely been trying to punish and humiliate her at Lady Carteret’s. It was only some perversity in her nature that had made her revel in such rough treatment.

In far less time than Midge would have liked, Pansy was pushing her out of her bedroom. She dawdled down the stairs and paused on the threshold of the ballroom, where the guests were already milling about.

Bedworth took a breath, as though to announce her. She grabbed his arm, saying, ‘Oh, please don’t!’ Everyone would turn and stare at her again, and she would have to walk in alone, when she knew she ought to have been there, at her husband’s side, to receive them correctly when they had first arrived.

Her uncle was pacing up and down the end of the room where the tables were laid out, his expression thunderous as he glanced down at the pocket watch he held in his hand.

Frantically, she searched the room for a friendly face.

She saw Nick by the fireplace, talking to Lord Keddinton. As she had been leaving the church earlier, Lord Keddinton had managed to express, with one supercilious lift of an eyebrow, that he had expected nothing else from such a hoyden. It was just as well she had never got round to asking him to help her find employment. She would always have reflected badly upon his judgement of character.

Though she could not blame Nick for making the most of the opportunity to approach the great man. Everyone knew the vast extent of Lord Keddinton’s influence. And Nick had no chance of ever securing a more powerful patron.

No, she would keep well away from them both for now.

The Veryan girls were standing in a corner, heads together, looking very pleased with themselves. They were probably discussing the way she had managed to make even her triumph in snaring the most eligible bachelor in town into a spectacle that would be gossiped and sniggered about for days.

There was no sign of Viscount Stanegate or his wife, she noted with disappointment. She had particularly wanted to speak to William Wardale’s daughter. She had meant to make a point of smiling at her during the ceremony, but of course she had been in no fit state to smile about anything by the time Monty dragged her down the aisle.

At last, her eyes came to rest on Rick, who was standing talking to Lady Verity’s other brother, Hal Carlow, and her heart gave a little lurch. The one person, above all others, she had wished to attend her wedding ceremony had not been there!

‘Rick,’ she said, the other occupants of the room fading into insignificance.

He had been deep in conversation with Major Carlow, but at the sound of his name on her lips he raised his head and came striding towards her, his face creased with concern.

‘I am sorry, Midge,’ he said, taking both her hands in his. ‘The fellow disappeared completely. Crawled back under whatever stone he had been hiding under, I expect.’

‘Rick! How can you be so unkind? If that man is Stephen…’

‘Ah, yes, if,’ he said sharply. ‘Look, Midge, don’t you think it more likely that somebody just wanted to spoil your wedding day? And paid some passing stranger to pose as…well…Stephen Hebden? You snatching Monty out from under them all will have put quite a few noses out of joint, I daresay…’

Midge’s mind flew back to the malicious smiles upon the faces of the Veryan girls. And the way they had always managed to make her look ridiculous. And she wondered if Rick could be right.

‘I thought…’ She shook her head. ‘He knew so many things…I couldn’t see how he could have known them if he wasn’t…’

But Major Carlow, who had sauntered over, was looking at her with an expression it was hard to fathom.

‘Did I hear a’right? It was Stephen Hebden trying to gain entry to the church just now?’

‘Yes,’ said Midge, at exactly the same moment Rick said, ‘No! Fellow claiming to be Stephen Hebden. But Stephen died years ago—’

‘Only wish to God he had!’ rapped Major Carlow. Then, pulling himself up short, ‘Beg pardon, my lady, but I have had some experience of his tactics, and I think it only fair to warn you…’ He petered out, just a second before she became aware Monty had joined them in the doorway.

‘Having to beg my lady’s pardon already, Hal? And you not five minutes in the house, you unmitigated scoundrel!’

Major Carlow smiled, but not with the same insouciance she had seen in him earlier.

The three men then indulged in a few moments of jovially insulting one another, the way her three stepbrothers had used to do. As she listened, she felt Monty’s arm slide round her waist. She knew she ought to have made some protest, but she couldn’t summon the will power to pretend she was not downright glad of his physical support. She had never felt so plain and gauche as she did standing there in the first gown to come out of her trunk, in the shadow of two officers in dress uniform and the most handsome man in the world.

She wondered, with a little pang of hurt, if this was why Viscount Mildenhall had dressed so plainly today. Because he did not want to outshine his fubsy little bride.

It was kind of him, if so. For she was sure he would much rather be wearing something that showed off his physique, like the major’s snugly fitting uniform.

As though Monty had sensed she was feeling left out, he squeezed her waist a little more firmly, before saying, ‘Come, then. Let us put on our Society faces, and go and greet our other guests properly.’

‘Before we do,’ she said, ‘may I ask, that is,’ she could feel her cheeks going red as she looked up into Major Carlow’s face. ‘I notice that Viscount Stanegate and his wife have not arrived. I do hope…’

‘Nell’s not feeling quite the thing, so Marcus took her home, thank God,’ he said. ‘Hate to think how upset she would have been had she heard that Gypsy troublemaker was hanging about the church.’

Midge blinked up at him in surprise, but before she could ask exactly what he had meant by that cryptic statement, Monty was dragging her away.

‘No more of that now, please,’ he murmured into her ear as he steered her towards the first knot of wedding guests. ‘I will find out what he meant, discreetly, and we can discuss it later. For now, we have a job to do.’

He startled her by dropping a swift kiss on her cheek. ‘Pretending to be respectable pillars of Society.’

She felt both the words and the deed like a blow, an unnecessary reminder that he thought her very far from respectable!

Later, she vowed, when he discussed all the items on his agenda, she was going to bring up the matter of his erroneous opinion of her!

He seemed unaware of her simmering resentment as he guided her through the room, charming one group of guests after another. He kept his arm round her waist, holding her close to his side as though he could not bear to be parted from her by so much as an inch!

But by the time they sat down to dine, the whole atmosphere had lightened considerably. The banquet her aunt had arranged was truly magnificent, the waiting staff smoothly efficient, and conversation around the table was soon flowing as freely as the copious quantities of champagne her uncle had supplied.

It could not have gone off better.

Even Midge managed not to knock anything over or spill anything down her gown.

When it was time to leave, her aunt, who was looking much less fraught after the amount of champagne she had imbibed, came to bid her farewell.

‘Well, I must say, you have married a man with great presence of mind. The way he handled our guests, as though he saw nothing untoward in that Disgraceful Scene outside the church…’

She reached out and patted Midge on the cheek. ‘And, after all, you will be a countess one day. Then—’ she drew herself up to her full height ‘—they will all have to keep their tongues between their teeth!’

Midge gathered that her aunt must have spent a great portion of the afternoon fielding spiteful comments about her conduct, but rather than looking harassed, Lady Callandar was positively vibrating with triumph.

‘Next time you make an exhibition of yourself,’ she said, with an almost mischievous twinkle in her eye, ‘and knowing you as I do, I am certain there will be a next time, you would do well to follow your husband’s lead and brazen it out. Act as though you have nothing to be ashamed of. Never apologize.’

And then, to Midge’s complete astonishment, her aunt leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. In spite of the fact that anybody might have seen her!

‘I shall look forward to calling upon you when you return to town,’ she finished, with a warm smile.

Imogen raised her hand to her face, stunned by her aunt’s public demonstration of affection and approval. If only she could have unbent towards her sooner! The months living in Mount Street would not have been anything like as difficult.

Monty had been standing a few feet away, in what looked like deep conversation with Rick and Major Carlow. But the moment her aunt left her, he excused himself and came straight over.

‘Is anything amiss?’

He could tell that Lady Callandar had said something that had rocked Midge to the core. Without caring about the impropriety of it, he put his arms round her and hugged her hard.

He could scarcely credit how fiercely protective he had grown towards her, in such a short space of time. When he had seen her hovering in the doorway earlier, her eyes wide with apprehension, he had wanted to simply whisk her away to somewhere where nobody would ever hurt her again. It had hurt when those misty grey eyes had swept straight past him, to come to rest on the form of her beloved stepbrother. But it made no difference to his resolve to protect her. Show them all that he did not disapprove of what she had done or the way she was. So he had crossed the room. Gone to stand beside her. Faced down the starchy matrons who had looked down their noses at her, and the girls who had sniggered at her. She had not objected to him putting his arm round her waist, so he had kept it there. At one point, she so far forgot herself as to lean her head on his shoulder for a few seconds. Yes, he was really pleased with the progress he had made with his reluctant bride.

‘My aunt,’ she said with an ironic twist to her mouth, ‘has just informed me that now I am your wife, I can get away with all manner of social crimes, providing I never apologize for them.’

Monty frowned. That comment was tactless in the extreme. It was as though her aunt expected Midge to be a failure. What a dreadful way to send her into her married life!

Hoping to put a positive slant on things, he said ruefully, ‘Whatever you do, now that you have a title, certain people will always toady to you, that is true.’

Midge glanced up at the cynical expression on his face, her heart sinking. He might have brazened things out, as her aunt put it, for the benefit of the wedding guests, but deep down, he knew she was destined to be a social failure. All the pleasure she had felt at finally winning her aunt round dissipated at the realization she still had a long way to go to earn her husband’s respect.

Chapter Seven

Pansy put the finishing touches to Imogen’s night attire, helped her up into the enormous bed, and withdrew from the room with a sentimental sigh.

Imogen slumped back against the pillows, chewing on her thumbnail.

She did not know what to make of her husband anymore. She had got so used to thinking he was a pompous ass. But there had been moments today when she had felt positively grateful to him. Just for being there!

Any minute now, though, she sighed, he would be walking through the door that connected her room to his, so they could have that ‘long talk’ he had threatened her with. When they would ‘decide what was to be done.’ And she had a nasty suspicion that, since nobody else would be watching, he would revert to his true colours.

She heard a floorboard creak and her eyes flew to the connecting door.

More than half expecting to receive a scolding, she sat up straight, nervously pushing her hair off her forehead with trembling fingers.

Just about everything she’d done since coming to London had resulted in a scold. She glanced round at the opulence of the room he had assigned to her, as his viscountess, and felt a little pang of yearning for the cosy little room up under the eaves of the Brambles. Nobody had ever gone up there to replay the catalogue of errors she had committed during the preceding day.

She lifted her chin, tamping down on the deceitful feeling of nostalgia. The reason Hugh had never scolded her had been because he had not cared, one way or the other, what she did, so long as nothing interrupted his studies. Whereas her aunt’s constant sniping stemmed from her concern as to what other people would make of her. And as for her husband…

Her breath hitched in her throat as the door opened and Monty, clad in a magnificent green silk brocade dressing gown, entered the room.

He was bound to have something to say about her conduct. It was only natural for him to want his wife to maintain certain standards in public.

She searched his handsome face anxiously. There was an intent expression in his eyes as he advanced towards the bed, but he did not look cross.

She smiled at him, relieved that he really did appear willing to discuss the incident in the portico with an open mind.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Raised it to his lips and kissed it. Smiled back at her…

And it was only then she noticed the absence of what she had hoped they were going to discuss.

‘Where is it?’

‘Where is what?’

‘The gift Stephen brought me. You said you would take care of it for me.’

There was a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Had he just said whatever he had felt would make her behave, without having any intention of truly listening to her opinions? She remembered the ruthless way he had bullied her into marrying him, and snatched her hand out of his.

‘You have not…you have not disposed of it, have you?’

He shot to his feet, staggered at how much she could hurt him by harbouring such a suspicion!

He turned on his heel and stalked back into his room, flinging open the doors of his wardrobe to find the jacket that he had been wearing earlier. The packet must still be in the inside pocket. Damn that rogue of a brother of hers!

Damn Viscount Mildenhall too. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the wardrobe door. What a coxcomb he was, to assume his new bride, a girl he had coerced into marriage, would now be so overwhelmed by the honour he had bestowed on her that she would by lying in bed, panting for him to come to her.

He sure as hell would not have taken getting a girl into his bed for granted when he had been merely Lieutenant Vernon Claremont. Oh, he had learned that his looks made him attractive to the fair sex. He had wooed and won his fair share.

But he had not wooed Midge.

Just assumed…he grimaced. ‘Put yourself in her shoes,’ he growled to himself, shaking his head. If he had just endured the day she’d had, would he be feeling amorous?

No wonder she accused him of being arrogant.

Well, if he had been, marriage to her would soon cure him of that! She had quite a knack of puncturing the over-inflated opinion of himself he had acquired as a result of all the toadying that went on in London Society.

He whirled round on hearing the rustle of silk behind him. Midge stood in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist, her grey eyes frosty.

Dear God, he hoped she had not heard him talking to himself!

‘I apologize,’ she said stiffly. ‘I did not mean to imply that you are not completely trustworthy. You said you would take care of it, and I am sure you would not lie to me.’

The words might have been humble, but she had spoken them as though she was delivering a challenge.

She more than half expected him to lie to her, he realized. She really did think he was a…What was it she had called him? Oh, yes, a vile worm.

His lips pulled tight into a flat line, he turned his back on her and resumed the search of his jacket pockets.

‘You must forgive me for forgetting all about this,’ he said sarcastically, as his fingers closed round the elusive article. ‘It is just that discussing your brother was the last thing I expected to be doing on my wedding night.’

Imogen’s eyes snagged on the wedge of flesh that became exposed when his dressing gown gaped as he threw her brother’s wedding gift to her. He was not wearing a nightshirt!

Her eyes swept the entire length of him, ending in a fascinated perusal of his bare calves and toes. She gulped. He did not appear to be wearing anything at all under that dressing gown.

She remembered the look on his face as he had approached her bed, the gleam in his eyes when she had smiled. The eager way he had grasped her hand.

And his bitter words as he riffled through his wardrobe at her behest.

‘I do beg your pardon,’ she said, hanging her head. She had been so busy thinking of things to resent about him, she had entirely forgotten what a poor bargain he was getting out of this marriage. That there was only one thing he considered her fit for.

‘I c-could leave opening this until morning.’ He had not attempted to deceive her, she could see that now. It was just that her concerns seemed trivial to him. Because she was a mere female. And he was a typically thoughtless, selfish male.

She returned to her room and laid the packet on her bedside table.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ he growled, stalking into the room after her. ‘We will get this business out of the way, since it is so very much on your mind. I intend to have your undivided attention when I make love to you for the first time.’

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile as she snatched the packet up and went to sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She would have permitted him to assert his marital rights over her, dutifully, but he would have to be blind not to see that her fingers were itching to untie the knot on that damned parcel, rather than the belt of his dressing gown.

He joined her on the ottoman, wondering if any other bridegroom had ever found himself coming so low down on the list of his bride’s priorities on his wedding night.

She looked up at him warily when he sat down, a question in her eyes.

‘Go on.’ He sighed. ‘Let us see what all the fuss was about.’

With a smile of relief, she tore open the wrapping paper.

Then went white.

He forgot all about his own fit of pique when he followed her appalled gaze and saw, lying in her lap, a replica of a hangman’s noose. Fashioned from what looked like a lot of silk scarves plaited together.

‘Dear God! What is the meaning of this? Is it some kind of threat?’

‘Not a threat, no,’ she said in a thin, reedy voice. ‘He said, it was to remind me. I stupidly thought…’ She raised one trembling hand to her brow to push back a hank of hair that had flopped into her eyes.

‘You see, on the way to church, I had such high hopes…’

His heart leapt at her words. Had she, too, seen that they could forge something good together?

‘…the children of all three families brought together, to celebrate a new start…the Carlows were there, and William Wardale’s daughter, and me, Kit Hebden’s daughter. And then he showed up too, and I hoped finally, we would all be able to move out of the shadow of what our parents did…’

Her fingers hovered over the glistening silken noose coiled in her lap, as though not quite daring to touch it. Lest it develop fangs and strike out at her like a venomous snake.

‘Midge.’ He took her chin in his hand and turned her face towards him. ‘You are making no sense.’ The only thing he knew for certain was that, once again, her mind was far from him.

She shivered, and the vague, troubled look crystallized into something like ice.

Her lips pressed firmly together, she pushed the torn edges of the packaging back into place, to conceal the silken rope. Then she got up, walked to the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.

‘Rick was right all along,’ she said bitterly. ‘Someone did want to ruin my day. Only it was not some rival for your title.’ She flicked angry eyes over him. ‘But my own brother. Half brother,’ she corrected herself, seizing the poker and holding down the package as the heat began to make the paper uncurl. ‘The announcement was only in the Gazette yesterday, so he must have known where I was all along. And never once did he come forward. All those years, we thought he was dead. Mourned him. While he was out there, watching us, hating us, waiting for some chance to strike back at us…’

‘Midge, you cannot possible deduce all that from a few silk scarves fashioned into a hangman’s noose—’

‘Oh, but I can!’ She turned round to look at him. ‘You don’t understand. You don’t know…’

She swayed on her feet. The poker fell into the hearth with a clatter. Monty swept her into his arms, drew her away from the fire and settled her on the edge of the bed.

‘Then tell me,’ he murmured.

She wrapped her own arms about her waist. ‘How much do you already know?’

‘I suppose, only what is generally known. The tittle-tattle about your mother’s lover killing your father. And him being subsequently hanged for the murder. But until today I had never heard of the existence of…an illegitimate Gypsy boy. Nor do I understand why those three families in particular, gathering together, could have much significance.’

She nodded her head, just once, as though making up her mind about something.

‘My father and Lord Leybourne and Lord Narborough were working together on some kind of state secret. My mother did not know exactly what. Except that one night, my father told her he knew who the spy was, and he was going to meet the other two and tell them how he had worked it out. Lord Narborough found Leybourne later, crouching over my father’s body, with a dagger in his hand. And eventually Leybourne was hanged for murder and treason. They used a silken rope, since he was a peer of the realm.’ She jerked her head towards the direction of the fireplace, without taking her eyes off her hands, which were now clasped together in her lap.