Chapter 17
Nicholas slapped his glove against his thigh as he paced in his foyer. He was fidgety again, and he couldn’t sit down as he waited for Cordelia to appear.
It’s just the thought of a busy evening ahead. So many people and all of them looking to see if we really are the miscreants Wexford’s been going on about.
He didn’t want to admit that he was nervous. Nervous about how good it would feel to have Cordelia stand next to him as his wife, his duchess, and nervous about how Cordelia would feel. She was obviously not unaffected by him, but he couldn’t seem to get her to relax enough to allow him in again.
Bedding her is the only sensible thing to do. We will be better guardians of the children, then, if we get that nonsense out of the way. These…feelings are far too distracting.
He nodded at his own good sense, but the sentiments fell flat.
The so-called feelings were a little more than that, but he didn’t quite know what to think about them, and they were certainly not something he’d experienced before.
At a sound from the top of the stairs, Nicholas turned to look up, and all sensible thoughts, flat or otherwise, flew clean out of his head.
Goddess was the first thing that came to him.
Their eyes met, and Cordelia smiled even as she looked slightly wary, descending the steps towards him in the champagne gown he had ordered for her.
The sleeves were puffed, and the neckline was low with lace around the edges.
It fit and clung to her every curve, and the sumptuous fabric swung deliciously as she took one step at a time, her hand sliding along the banister.
Nicholas had never been so jealous of a banister before or any piece of furniture for that matter.
Idiot.
She wore long white gloves, and jewels winked from around her neck. Her dark hair had been pinned up, but two curls had been let down to frame her face, and when she finally descended the stairs and approached him, he wondered if he had taken a breath in all that time.
“I hope that a gaping mouth is a good sign,” she said with a slight smirk, and Nicholas closed his mouth, no witty reply instantly coming to his mind.
“Oh, yes -- well,” he sputtered, wondering how on earth this woman had simply wiped his mind clean with one bloody gown.
Even the most beautiful woman he had ever been with had never been able to reduce him to this, a mumbling fool.
He had always been able to maintain his composure and his devil-may-care attitude.
He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if it had suddenly gotten very hot in the room.
“We should –” he motioned to the door, words still not coming to him.
She blinked up at him expectantly. “Go?” she added, and he nodded.
“Uh, yes.” Giving up words for a little while, he simply turned and offered her his arm.
Cordelia slid her hand into it, and he led her outside and into the carriage, her rosebud scent threatening to make him even more useless for the rest of the evening.
But as soon as they were settled and the carriage rumbled on, he was able to grasp onto at least something, something he needed to say.
“Cordelia, you look –” he sighed, his eyes moving over every inch of her. “Like a dream.”
She looked surprised but pleased at his compliment, her cheeks pinking a little. “And you, Your Grace. Nicholas. You look very dashing, but I suppose you already knew that.”
Glad that she’d taken the reins in returning to their teasing banter, he chuckled.
“Yes, well, it is always good to hear it repeated, even if I have already repeated it in my mind.”
At that, Cordelia laughed a little louder, and Nicholas couldn’t keep the smile off his face for the rest of the ride. But as they neared the Earl of Wynnward’s home, he saw the nervousness return to her expression.
“You will be perfect. You always are,” he said softly, just as the footman opened the door to the carriage.
Hopping out, Nicholas reached up for her and helped her down, savoring the closeness to her that he’d wished for in the carriage but had been too afraid he’d fumble that too and turn into an inexperienced schoolboy.
“I’m afraid I haven’t danced in a while. As I got older in my seasons, I never got asked anymore. Not very often, at least,” she confided, and he could feel her tension in the press of her hand on his arm as they entered.
“Then they’re all damned idiots, the lot of them, not noticing what a beauty they had before them.” Cordelia said nothing, and he added, “I’ll be ready for a foot-crushing dance or two with you then this evening, Your Grace.”
She slapped him on the arm, and Nicholas laughed, having never seen so many sides of Cordelia before. In the last weeks, she had shown him her sad side, nervous side, and finally, her happy and delighted side. He was even glad to further bring out her teasing side and make her bolder.
At the door, they were greeted by a footman and were ushered toward the ballroom, listening to the hubbub of voices and music and clinking of glass.
They were to enter at the top of the stairs, and Cordelia and Nicholas handed off their cloak and gloves to another waiting footman.
Nicholas tensed as her beautiful gown was once more revealed to him.
He whispered, “While you look devastatingly lovely, my dear, I would rather like to keep that cloak on you if I could.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she whispered back as they waited in line to be announced.
He glanced at her, his eyes moving down her face and neck until they settled on her lovely chest and the swell of her breasts.
“I mean that I don’t wish any man’s thoughts to be of you and those…” his voice lowered, and Cordelia’s eyes widened, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.
“You are even a rake to your own wife,” she hissed, making him grin.
It was finally their turn. The butler at the head of the stairs announced them to the crowd below.
“The Duke and Duchess of Meinster.”
Nicholas was smiling, but he tensed at the quiet that settled over the crowd at the sound of their names. He could feel Cordelia’s tension too.
Slowly, they descended, and he whispered to her, “All is well. We are simply a novelty.”
She nodded but said nothing, and as they made their way to the bottom of the stairs, people returned to their conversations, and a new song began.
“I will get you a drink,” he said, turning to go when the cat-eyed Lady Rosemere rushed up to him as if out of nowhere, pressing a hand to his chest and leaning in close.
Damn it.
Even without seeing her, Nicholas could sense Cordelia’s tension at the sudden arrival of his former mistress come to stand so close to him.
“Your Grace! What a relief to finally find you here at last. When I heard you were coming, I was all atwitter with excitement.”
She unfolded her fan and waved it in front of her face, smiling at him, not even looking at Cordelia who stood only a foot away. Slowly, Nicholas removed the lady’s hand from his chest, and she looked horrified.
“My lady, how kind of you to greet an old friend after such a long time.” He spoke in a monotone.
“An old friend?” she asked dubiously with a perfectly sculpted lifted brow.
“Yes.” He gave her his politest smile. “I am a married man now, my lady.”
“Ha! And when has that ever stopped any of us before?” she asked, far too loudly, and he knew it was purposeful.
Nicholas tensed, and his gaze grew stormy as he looked at the woman.
“Lady Rosemere, I suggest you keep your distance from me from now on, and that you find yourself another paramour. There are plenty waiting in line, I’m sure.
But you will not find any satisfaction from me any longer.
” He spoke in clipped tones, and with each word, he saw her eyes darken and her cheeks flush with anger.
“Well, I never,” she replied, opening her fan to flutter it furiously in front of her face before storming off.
Relieved, but annoyed that Cordelia had had to witness that, turned back to her only to see that she was gone. He spun around, searching for her, worried she’d run off when he spied her on the dance floor, in the arms of another man.
What in the hell?
Nicholas had never felt such rage. He knew the man, a Lord Dempshaw, another rake, who was happy to flirt and more with any willing young lady.
He was handsome enough with his dark hair and dark eyes, but Nicholas had always found him irksome.
And now, with that man’s arms around Cordelia, Nicholas saw red.
Thinking of nothing else, he stomped onto the ballroom floor, ignoring the gasps of other dancers, and he approach Lord Dempshaw and Cordelia. Cordelia’s mouth fell open as he stood in front of them, his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“Do be so good as to allow me to dance with my wife, Dempshaw. It is our first ball together and all that.”
His words sounded quite kind, but the way he said them made a flash of challenge light in Lord Dempshaw’s eyes.
“Very well, Your Grace.” Dempshaw turned to Cordelia, bowed, and then let her go.
Instantly, Nicholas took his place and swung them both back into the rhythm of the dance. Cordelia was looking around them at the other couples.
“And just what are you doing, Nicholas?” she asked.
Keeping you here with me. Not letting any other man touch you.
“Our marriage is being closely watched this evening. It seems that the Duke of Wexford is continuing to spout rumors about us, you see. And there he is over there, glaring at us.”
Cordelia turned, and Nicholas breathed out, glad that he’d not said what he’d really thought. The rage was slowly cooling from his veins, but Wexford’s eyes on them weren’t helping.
“There is no need to give people any more chance to talk. Best they move onto a new topic.”
Cordelia’s gaze returned to his, and Nicholas pulled her a little closer. At least, for the duration of the dance, she could not step out of the circle of his arms.
“Is that really the reason why you did this? And why you rejected Lady Rosemere?”