Chapter 3
Corey, encouraged by the better understanding established with his wife during their journey from Sanford Park, had entered the drawing room for tea feeling unforgivably smug with his lovely young wife on his arm.
The unexpected presence of Barbara Winmore had pulled him up enough to wonder if he should have warned Gabriella about her—though he baulked rather at sullying her with such explanations.
What could he say? Although it ended before our betrothal, Lady Winmore and I once enjoyed a mutually convenient relationship of an intimate nature, and it’s just possible she may try and take out her spite upon you.
What on earth had he been doing with such a woman in the first place? In the second place, it was over and done with, and Barbara would only make herself ridiculous by the slightest word against his marchioness.
Then all thought of his former mistress fled his mind, totally eclipsed by the much less palatable sight of Livesey-Bloody-White. What the devil was he doing here? And then he caught the smile the blackguard exchanged with Gabriella.
Dear God, was this planned? Had their rare, delightful rapprochement on the journey merely been an act on her part to divert suspicion from her assignation with the unspeakable Snowy?
For an instant, the fires of jealousy roared in his head, reminding him of the day after their wedding day, when he had been replete with happiness, because his bride loved him and had shown him such passion and trust that he felt his heart would burst. And then, about to set off on their wedding journey, he had seen her from the townhouse doorway.
She had walked toward the carriage, and from nowhere was accosted by Livesey-White.
She had given him one of her brilliant smiles, and he had discreetly passed something from his fingers into hers. She had taken it without surprise or clumsiness, and even pressed the man’s hand before climbing into the carriage with his aid.
Livesey-White had possessed the impudence to throw Corey a wave as he’d emerged from the house.
Even then, Corey had been aware that his surge of jealousy was both foolish and demeaning. But when he’d asked his wife casually what Livesey-White had wanted, she had said, “Oh, nothing. He was just passing.”
He had waited, but she said no more on the subject, not even when he said lightly, “Not passing on good wishes from your brother?”
She had only laughed and replied, “God, no.”
His love had not ended that day, but his trust had.
And that soured everything. He had slept alone that night from choice.
And when he had tried to make up for his unforgivable coldness to her, he had become merely “my lord” or “Corey” to her.
He had never heard his Christian name on her lips since.
It was not so much that she loved Livesey-White that hurt—he was a neighbor and old family friend whom she had known forever. It was that she had never told him. That, loving another, she had married Corey for his fortune and to please her worthless family.
All this and more he recalled behind his armor of civility during tea. And when he glimpsed the pair on the sofa with their heads together in private conversation, he wanted to murder the amiable Snowy.
Instead, he went to his own rooms and stared at the connecting door. Could she even guess at the turbulent emotions raging in his heart?
The woman who had made love with him with such sweetness and abandon would understand. Pride and hurt had made him foolish before. He had handled her badly and she had returned coldness with ice and a certain style he could only admire, even while driven mad with lust.
What he hadn’t done was make any effort to win her for himself. Until he had given her the rubies, which he knew now she had appreciated. For there had been sweet companionship today in the carriage.
And there would be tonight…
* * *
She seemed flustered when he sauntered through the connecting door to her sitting room. Even so, she took his breath away. Why had he been so stupid as to waste these weeks alone with her, nursing his own pride rather than winning her heart?
“You look very beautiful,” he said.
She blushed adorably, all the sophistication she had aimed at him during their encounters at Sanford Park vanishing into tongue-tied pleasure. He hoped.
He was slightly disappointed that she had not chosen to wear any of the Corey rubies, but perhaps he had a little more to prove before she would wear his gifts. Instead, she wore a simple gold locket around her neck, distinctive in its simplicity.
Inevitably, they were separated almost as soon as they entered the salon for pre-prandial sherry, and Corey was given the honor of escorting their hostess to dinner.
Rather to his annoyance, he found Barbara Winmore on his other side.
Of more concern to him was that Gabriella, who had minimal experience of dining among the ton, should be comfortably situated.
She appeared to be, seated between two gentlemen he did not know but who appeared to be vying for her attention and hanging on her every word. She was smiling and coping and yet to his critical eye, her shoulders looked just a trifle tense.
“My lord,” Barbara said beside him. “An unexpected pleasure to see you here.”
“Somerville and I are old friends,” he said. “And the pleasure is all mine. You are looking well.”
“I am well. And glad of this chance to pick your notoriously dispassionate brains. What do you know of Mr. Livesey-White?”
“Very little,” he replied neutrally.
“Truly? I thought he was some kind of relation to you these days. Via the Raymonds.”
“Not at all. Though I believe he and Arthur Raymond are very thick.”
“Well, he has become such a persistent suitor that I thought I would at least inquire about him. He is not a gazetted fortune hunter, is he?”
“I have never heard any such gossip.”
“But then, every man is hanging out for a rich wife.” She smiled, giving him an instant’s warning. “Except you.”
He smiled back. “Well, no one has ever accused me of vulgarity.” Casually, he turned to Lady Somerville.
After dinner, when the gentlemen had finished with their port and followed Sir Peter to the drawing room, Corey’s gaze went straight to his wife who sat in a group of other young women, her eyes searching the newcomers.
He hoped she was looking for him, but it would have been bad form to rush immediately to her side as though he feared she could not behave in public.
He spoke instead to a Mrs. Denby and her daughter, a decision he came to regret, for when he next saw his wife, she was standing by the window with Livesey-White engrossed in an intense conversation.
* * *
“Where is Arthur?” she demanded of Snowy without introduction.
“No idea.”
“Yes, you have, Snowy. Think. I need him.”
“Can’t I help?”
“Not unless you’re prepared to turn Nicholas upside down and shake him.”
Snowy blanched. “Not a fighting man,” he said apologetically.
“So where is Art?”
“Not perfectly sure,” Snowy said cautiously. “He was going to—er… meet up with friends…”
“To go to some dreadful prize fight, yes, I know about that, but would it not have been last night or today? Where did he go afterward?”
“Brighton,” Snowy said, giving up.
“Well, that’s not so far from here, is it? Where will I find him?”
“Nowhere you can possibly go,” Snowy said frankly.
“I see.” She scowled. “What if I just write and persuade him to meet me? Do you know the direction?”
Snowy eyed her with growing unease. “Even if I did, you can’t go jaunting about the countryside alone. There are highwaymen around here.”
More to the point, she could not go without Corey finding out, and that rather defeated the whole object.
Snowy sighed. “I owe you a few favors, don’t I?”
“No,” she said honestly, touching the chain at her neck. “You redeemed my locket for me.”
“That was Art. I was only the messenger. Again. Give me a note for him and I’ll track him down first thing. With luck I can be back before luncheon.”
“Thank you, Snowy,” she said and fled to her own rooms, where she knew there were writing materials.
Dear Art,
Nicholas came to Sanford Park just as I left. Am afraid he took the rubies. Please will you find him, get the rubies back, and bring them to me here at Normanton House? It’s IMPORTANT. Also URGENT.
Gabriella
She read it over quickly, then underlined IMPORTANT and URGENT several times, before sanding it and tearing off the note. She folded it as small as she could, palmed it, and hurried back to the drawing room, where some debutante was murdering one of her favorite songs.
While all eyes were fixed somewhat glassily upon the performer, Gaby sidled up to Snowy and stood beside him.
From practice as children, it was easy to slip the note into his palm.
He knew enough not to look at her, only nodded infinitesimally.
But as she strolled away, she noticed her husband’s gaze upon her.
She smiled, trying not to look guilty or uncertain, and sat down with her cup of tea.
She did not see him again until the party began to break up for the evening, the staider to retire for the night or to discuss important matters of state in the library, the younger to play cards or billiards into the small hours.
Although Corey was young, she expected him to go to the library—she had already primed Lord Barhead to expect something interesting from him—but she met her husband unexpectedly in the hallway.
“Care for a stroll before bed?” he suggested.
It was so exactly what she wanted—most especially with him—that she smiled with pleasure and led the way to the nearest door.
On the other side of it, the sharp October air cooled her cheeks.
He took the shawl from her numb hands and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Gentle, attentive, as he had been in the short period of their betrothal and the morning of their wedding.
Something had changed after that. She had stopped trying to guess what.