Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Rowan was very grateful for Julia and her family’s visit, but he felt obligated to entertain them, and they spent several boisterous evenings playing parlor games with the children.
He enjoyed himself, and he realized that his sister was indeed raising Thomas and Clara with far more love and laughter than he’d ever thought was possible.
It gave him hope that he might be able to do the same with his own children.
Still, he somewhat resented the interruption to his time with Tamsin.
He hadn’t visited her bedroom again since the night they’d first made love, though that was all he thought about.
He wanted to give her some time, and it somehow seemed wrong to do all the things he wanted to do with Tamsin while his sister was in the house.
So, he was very relieved when Julia, George, and the children left three days after they’d arrived in a similar whirl of chaos.
“I like her,” Julia murmured into his ear as she was leaving. “Don’t ruin it.”
He and Tamsin waved goodbye from the front steps, then went in for breakfast.
“I’m very glad they came to visit,” Tamsin told him. “What a lovely family. I like them all so much!”
“I’m glad,” Rowan agreed. “But I’m also glad they’re gone. I miss our time alone.”
A beautiful blush stained Tamsin’s cheeks. “I do, too.”
Rowan slid a small stack of invitations across the polished surface of the table toward her. “Unfortunately, we’re being inundated with invitations,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose we must accept one, in order to quell some of the gossip.”
Tamsin sighed as well. “If we must. Though I’d much rather spend another evening in the library with you.”
An unfamiliar surge of heat rose in his cheeks. Bloody hell. Was he blushing, too? Had he ever blushed in his life? But perhaps he would have if anyone had ever professed a desire to simply spend time with him. To have a meal and talk.
“I would rather do that as well,” he said simply. “Perhaps we should wait a few more days to accept one of these invitations.”
She bit her lip and then shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we must. Other than our trip to the theater, we haven’t gone out in public at all.”
He couldn’t deny his disappointment, but he comforted himself with the thought that once they returned home, he could finally make love to Tamsin again.
His choice of words took him aback. He didn’t think he’d ever referred to it that way, not even in his head.
He cleared his throat. “Well, if we must, Lady Radcliff’s musicale sounds the least horrendous to me, but you’re free to pick something different if you’d prefer.”
“Lady Radcliff’s musicale, it is then,” she said with a wry smile, pushing the pile back toward him.
“Shall we go for a ride again this morning?” he asked. “Something pleasant before we must face the dreary entertainment ahead?”
“I’d love that,” she agreed.
The drawing room of Lady Radcliff’s Mayfair town house was bathed in the warm, deceptive glow of a hundred beeswax candles. It was an intimate gathering, a private musicale featuring a celebrated Italian harpist and an opera singer, but it was still far too crowded for Tamsin’s taste.
Tamsin sat beside Rowan on a small, velvet settee.
She kept her posture perfectly straight, her hands gloved and folded in her lap, trying to focus on the delicate cascade of notes filling the room.
But her attention kept drifting to the solid weight of the man beside her.
Rowan smelled of fresh linen and the faint, crisp scent of the autumn air they had left outside.
Every now and then, his shoulder would brush against hers, sending a small, electric tremor through her that she desperately tried to ignore.
Would they make love again tonight? He hadn’t touched her in all the days that his sister and her family had been in London, and she feared he had already lost interest in her.
The moment they’d arrived, she’d felt the stir of speculation in the room.
Even now, people were watching them, looking for any crack in the facade.
Would anyone looking at them believe that theirs had been a love match?
She knew she probably gazed at him with her heart in her eyes, though she was not at all certain that he ever looked at her in the same way.
She wished that Rose was here, or Lilliana.
She desperately needed to see a friendly face.
When the harpist finished her first piece, the room erupted into polite applause. Under the cover of the sudden chatter, Rowan leaned in close, his breath warm against Tamsin’s ear. “Are you enjoying the performance, my love? Or shall we make a quiet escape before the soprano begins?”
His voice was laced with that private, teasing warmth she was slowly beginning to crave. And he’d called her “my love.” Tamsin turned to reply, a smile touching her lips, but the words died in her throat.
Winding her way through the crowded aisle toward their settee was a beautiful woman whose attention was focused on Rowan. She approached them as though she had every right to do so.
Tamsin’s heart did a slow, painful roll.
She would recognize that woman anywhere.
It was the dark-haired beauty she had seen wrapped in Rowan’s arms in the shadows of the Dark Walks.
Tonight, the woman was resplendent in emerald silk that clung daringly to her curves, her dark eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.
“Rowan, darling,” the woman purred as she came to a halt in front of them.
Her voice was like liquid honey, as she entirely ignored the silent crowd around them.
“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. The elusive Lord Haversham, attending a boring musicale? I never thought I would see the day.”
Rowan stiffened beside Tamsin. The easy, relaxed warmth in his posture vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, aristocratic mask. “Elena,” he said, his voice polite but entirely devoid of his usual charm. “A pleasure.”
“Oh, is it?” Elena stepped closer, the hem of her emerald gown brushing Rowan’s boots.
She flicked her fan open, her gaze sweeping over Tamsin with a brief, dismissive curiosity before locking back onto Rowan.
“You have been terribly scarce, My Lord. The Obsidian Club has been utterly dull without you. And Vauxhall...” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in just enough that the heavy, cloying scent of her jasmine perfume drifted over Tamsin.
“Vauxhall just hasn’t been the same without your company. ”
Tamsin felt a sickening coil of heat tighten in her stomach.
It was jealousy—painful and humiliatingly intense.
Her fingers gripped her fan so tightly she feared the ivory ribs would snap.
She knew Rowan’s past; she had married him knowing he was a rake.
But seeing the casual, practiced familiarity of a woman who had held his attention, who had known his touch, was an entirely different matter.
Tamsin looked at Elena’s smooth, flawless skin and the daring cut of her bodice, and felt suddenly small, plain, and hopelessly out of her depth.
This was the sort of woman a man like Rowan engaged in pleasurable pursuits with.
Tamsin feared that he’d never do the intimate things with her that he’d done with this woman.
And why was a woman like this even at Lady Radcliff’s?
Perhaps she was the acclaimed opera singer who would be performing later.
Someone who walked the line of polite company.
But how dare she come over and talk to Rowan when his wife was sitting right beside him?
Everyone was staring at them. The Brazen Belle would probably write about this as well.
“My life has changed, Elena.” Rowan’s voice was steady, but there was a hard, warning edge to it now.
He reached down and took Tamsin’s gloved hand, lifting it to drape over his forearm in a clear, possessive gesture.
“As you well know. Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Tamsin, the Countess of Haversham. Tamsin, this is Elena. She must be tonight’s entertainment. ”
Elena’s eyes flickered to their joined hands, her smile tightening for a fraction of a second before she recovered her poised facade.
“Ah, the new countess. The lady you chased after at Vauxhall.” She gave Tamsin a slow, patronizing curtsy.
“I have been so terribly eager to meet the woman who managed to cage the wild earl.”
“I assure you,” Tamsin said, her voice remarkably cool and steady despite the storm raging in her chest, “my husband is not a beast to be caged. He is a kind and generous man.”
Rowan’s eyes flashed with sudden, quiet approval, his fingers squeezing hers beneath the silk of her glove. But she couldn’t help thinking that he’d been the one to choose this out of all the invitations they’d received. Had he wanted to see Elena again?
Elena let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Oh, how charming. You truly are smitten with him. But do be careful, my dear. Wild creatures can get terribly restless when the winter sets in.” She leaned down slightly, her fan brushing Rowan’s shoulder.
It felt far too familiar to Tamsin. “Do not forget, Rowan, you still owe me a dance from the Somerset ball. I expect to collect on that debt soon.”
“I am afraid my dancing days are done,” Rowan replied coldly. “Except for those reserved for my wife.”
Elena’s smile finally faltered. She drew herself up, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Of course. How... domestic.” With a tight, elegant nod, she turned on her heel and swept back into the crowd, her emerald skirts rustling like dry leaves.
Tamsin stared after her, her breath coming in shallow, ragged spurts. The encounter had lasted less than two minutes, but she felt as though she had just survived a physical duel. She had never been so humiliated.
“Tamsin,” Rowan whispered, turning toward her, his voice filled with anxious concern. “Look at me.”