Chapter 1
Everyone had told him not to marry her.
There was bad blood in the Raymonds, they said. They were all going to the devil, and her father and brothers would bleed him dry. Besides which, she, being wild to a fault like the rest of her kin, would disgrace him sooner or later.
It was not that Leopold, Marquis of Corey, had ignored them. Rather, he had already known the worst and suspected the rest, but by God it was worth it for these few occasions when he came upon her unexpectedly like this.
He stood for a moment in the open doorway of his wife’s sitting room, watching her waltz extravagantly around the sofa and between the tables.
She hummed her own music, which tugged a chord of his memory, a smile on her shapely lips and shining in her brilliant eyes as she danced.
Her arms were raised slightly as though she touched a partner’s shoulder and hand, every movement of her delectable body graceful and sensual.
She took his breath away. Even after four months of marriage and a certain amount of bitter disillusion, the sight of her like this, ebullient and natural and incomparably beautiful, hit him in the gut.
Not merely with desire, but with tenderness, for he still saw in her what he always had—beauty, passion, an unquenchable spirit of fun, rare sweetness, and a kind of half-spoiled innocence that totally beguiled him.
This was the woman he had married. And heaven help him, it was worth all the trouble and heartache. He wanted nothing more than to fit into her hold, and dance with her. Alone, where no one could see.
But he was not the man she longed for. He was merely her husband.
That much was obvious as she became aware of him and instantly halted, dropping her arms to her side. Her smile died, and her expression changed to one of distant, almost insolent indifference.
“My lord,” she drawled. “Behold the marchioness, practicing for the Somerville ball.”
He inclined his head. “Behold the marquis, overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of my lady’s company.”
She lifted one corner of her mouth, a teasing challenge in her eyes now.
“It looks remarkably similar to your displeasure. You need not be afraid I shall cling to you in the midst of strangers. They may be largely your friends but I daresay a few of my own acquaintances will also be present. We need not be so unfashionable as to seek each other’s company. ”
“Let us at all costs be fashionable.”
Her half-teasing eyes hardened. “Are we back to costs, my lord? I believe I might make do without new gowns or jewels I would only pawn.”
My lord. Once she had called him Leo. For one magical day and one glorious night.
“It depends on your definition of new,” he said glacially.
He took the jewel case from behind his back and instead of giving it into her hands, laid it on the table beside him.
“The Corey rubies, if you wish to take them. If not, return them to Scrivens to go back in the vault. Good morning, my lady.”
He turned and walked out, aware of another chance lost, another moment ruined, another nail in the coffin of their ill-advised marriage.
* * *
Stricken, Gaby gazed after her husband. Why did he always do this to her? Put her in the wrong?
Why did she always give him the opportunity? By assuming his displeasure and countering it with defiance and mockery?
Her breath caught. What would he do if she ran after him, threw her arms around his neck and thanked him? Would his arms close around her? Would he give the slow, almost lazy smile that had first won her heart? Might he kiss her with the aching tenderness of their wedding night?
Her shoulders drooped.
No. He would look down his aristocratic nose at her, wait politely for her to remove her vulgarly effusive self, and walk away.
Had he always been like this and she had refused to see?
That first time she had ever met him, he had called on her father about some piece of land or other, and she, all of sixteen years old, had fallen out of the apple tree into his arms. Had she imagined the laughter in his eyes above the seriousness of his mouth?
The conspiratorial closing of one eyelid as he had later pretended to her parents the incident had not occurred?
Perhaps. But she had not imagined the way he stood up for her and routed her bullying brothers, all without starting a fight.
Instead, they had, briefly, wanted to be on his side.
No doubt it was just the stark reality of Gabriella Raymond he could not stomach.
Well, what was he thinking about, marrying into the Raymond family? Everyone knew they had been going to the devil for at least three generations, and her own was probably the worst, bidding fair to cast even her profligate, wicked old father into the shade.
She had met the Marquis of Corey only twice before he had asked for her hand. There had been the apple tree incident, when he had become her hero; and then, three years later, the dance at her godmother’s ball. The very next day, he had offered for her.
Would he be disgusted if he knew he had just caught her reliving that waltz with him? Or merely indifferent?
Heroically, she re-summoned the hope that the forthcoming change of scene from Sanford Park to the neutral territory at the Somervilles’ country seat would help her to win him.
His mistress would be there, of course—the kind gossips had made a point of telling her so—but Gaby had every intention of eclipsing the dreadful woman in every way.
With this in mind, she straightened and went to the jewel case he had left behind.
He had given her the Corey rubies, a stunning set worn by each marchioness since the seventeenth century.
They were so valuable nowadays that they were only brought out of the vault for special occasions.
And yet he had put them into her hands as though he trusted her.
While she carped at him about his previous scold for her once pawning some trinket for her brother Arthur.
The dazzling beauty of the rubies in their gold setting caught at her breath. Oh Leo… Reverently, she lifted the necklace and hurried to the looking glass before holding it to her throat.
“Majestic,” she breathed.
“So it is,” said her brother Arthur, strolling into the room. “Change of style, Gab?”
Gaby blinked at the unexpected sight. “Art? What the devil are you doing here? Have you come to stay?”
“Lord, no. On my way to meet friends at a prize fight, then I have other plans. Just dropped in to pay you back.”
Gaby’s jaw dropped. “Your horse won?”
Art grinned. “Astonishing, isn’t it? Knew my luck would turn, eventually. In fact, while I’m on this roll, I’ll do you a favor, if you like.” He held out a bundle of bank notes to her. “Happy to turn this pony into a monkey for you.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly. “I’ll take my five-and-twenty pounds while I can.”
Art’s black eyebrows flew up. “Never tell me Corey keeps you short? Always seemed a very generous fellow to me.”
“He is.”
“He give you that gewgaw? Want me to pawn it for you in town?”
“No, I do not! That gewgaw is part of the Corey rubies.”
“Oh,” Art said without much interest. “Just thought you must be short, that’s all, when you practically grabbed the pony out of my hand.”
“I might have been a little extravagant,” she admitted, replacing the necklace in its case on the table.
“And Corey’s already been so generous, I don’t want to ask him for more.
We’re going to Normanton House tomorrow—it’s near Brighton, now I come to think of it— and it will be good to have a few shillings to play cards with. ”
“Ah.” Art dropped his careless, lanky person onto her elegant sofa. “That’s the other reason I popped in. Snowy’s going too.”
“To Brighton?”
“To Lady Sommerville’s party. At Normanton.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought it was his thing.”
“It isn’t,” Art said restlessly. “Silly gudgeon’s decided he needs to take the plunge and get leg-shackled.”
“Snowy wants to be married?” she said, diverted. She had known the amiable Snowy most of her life and regarded him in much the same light as the relentlessly hedonistic Arthur, who was the only one of her disreputable brothers whom she could stand. “Who on earth to?”
Art studied his fingernails. “Lady Winmore. Wealthy widow. Don’t think you know her.”
Gaby scowled. “I’m not that na?ve, Art. I know she is Corey’s mistress.” Saying the words felt like a knife in the heart, but they were only words and even Art should never guess how much the truth behind them hurt.
“Was, Gaby,” Art said gruffly. His eyes kindled. “And I’d like to know who’s been blabbering to you about such matters.”
Gaby laughed. “Getting strait-laced in your old age, Arty?”
“No, but you are,” he said frankly. “Can’t think how in our family, but there it is. Don’t suppose you’ve got a glass of brandy for a fellow before I clear off?”
“Not here, I haven’t. Come on, there will be some in the drawing room.”
“You struck lucky with Corey,” Art said admiringly as they walked through the bright, well-maintained galleries and halls to the elegant drawing room. “This is quite the nobleman’s seat. Pity the Old Devil will bleed him dry in a decade.”
Gaby had no difficulty in recognizing her father, the Earl of Blockton, in this disrespectful epithet. “Actually, I wouldn’t count on it. Corey is not the soft touch you all think him.”
“Don’t mind telling you the settlements he made on you were eye-watering. The Old Devil was rubbing his hands in glee. Has the rest of the pack been swarming yet?”
“Nicholas asked me for a hundred guineas, and Caroline tried to borrow the pearls Corey gave me as a wedding gift.”
“Spongers,” said Art, with the righteousness of one who had just paid his own debt.
She led him into the drawing room and pointed him at the decanter. He helped himself and took an appreciative sip while Gaby paced restlessly around the room.
Arthur threw himself into a chair to savor his brandy and his surroundings. “Is this the room you redecorated?”
“I just lightened it a bit,” she said vaguely. “Made it more comfortable. I think Corey likes it.” He had said he did, but he joined her here so seldom she suspected he was being merely polite. At least their neighbors enjoyed it when they came for dinner.
“Everything well with you, Gaby?” Art asked unexpectedly.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You seem a bit…off.”
“I’m fine.”
A short pause. “Corey well?”
“He is in excellent health.”
“Not surprised with brandy as good as this. You quarreled with him, Gab?”
“No, of course not.” She cast a quick glance at him to make sure he believed her and caught the skeptical expression in his eyes. More than that, she read his unease at stepping where he really did not want to tread.
“Don’t give me that,” he said heroically. “You’re a Raymond. What have you done, and can I fix it? Happy to put myself out.”
“Thank you, Art,” she replied, genuinely touched. “But there is nothing you can do.” She could not even blame the family. The fault was hers. Art continued to hold her gaze. She tried to smile. “I think…I am not quite the wife he wanted.”
Art knocked back the rest of the brandy. “Rot. He shelled out thousands to the Old Devil for you. There’s no doubt he wanted you, so don’t be a goose.”
He didn’t know me. He only thought he wanted me, and now every sight of me disappoints him.
Art stood up, eyeing the decanter, and sighed. “Best not.” He set down the glass. “I’ll be on my way.”
Gaby went with him to the door, and they walked along the Long Gallery just as Corey came out of the library in front of them.
He checked in surprise, and came toward them, his hand held out. “Arthur. I didn’t know you had joined us.”
“Oh, I haven’t,” Art said, clasping the offered hand briefly. “Just passing and dropped in for a moment—on my way to meet a party of friends. Very tolerable brandy you keep, Corey!”
Corey’s lips twitched. “Thank you,” he said gravely. “I endeavor to please.”
Art grinned at him. “It’s a treat for me. No need to see me out.” He cast a glance at Gaby. “Remember what I said,” he commanded with unusual severity, and strode off with an airy wave over his shoulder.
“What on earth did he say?” Corey asked, amusement in his voice.
That you wanted me so much once you let my father bleed you. The impossibility of repeating such a thing to him flustered her. “God knows. I don’t listen to him.”
And again, though he still sounded amused, the smile vanished from his face. “Don’t look so appalled. I shan’t pry into the family secrets.” And he strolled on toward the staircase.
Smothering a sigh. Gaby instructed the nearest footman to send her maid to her. They might as well pack for the Somerville party. After all, it would be an early start tomorrow.