Chapter 20 #3
She was riding with a much-too-dashing-looking major in the dragoons, wearing another of her damnable gray gowns, this one a riding habit trimmed in green velvet that made her look sleek and elegant.
She had on a matching hat with a green feather that curled over her face, which to Rafe’s eye was tilted far too close to her riding partner’s.
“Oh,” said Anne, following the direction of his gaze. “Isn’t that your little French friend? Shall we wave them over to say hello?”
Rafe reflected that he’d like to do far more than wave and say hello, as he nodded in agreement with Anne.
“Mademoiselle de La Brou.” Anne greeted Alix. “How charming to see you again, and may I say, what an elegant gray habit?”
“Lady Anne,” Alix said coolly. “Lord Moreham, what a surprise. May I introduce Major Harris of his majesty’s dragoons?”
“Any friend of Mademoiselle Alix is a friend of mine,” the major said, a pleasant smile spreading across his broad face and lighting his deep brown eyes.
Alix. The leering clod had called his wife by her first name! Rafe wondered for a brief moment whether he should call him out.
“And how was the theater last night, Mademoiselle de La Brou?” Rafe asked.
“Quite unremarkable I’m afraid,” Alix said.
“Only because Mademoiselle outshone the players on the stage,” Major Harris offered gallantly. “Have you seen? The papers have taken to calling her the silver siren. I’m thinking of composing an ode in her honor.”
“The silver siren,” Rafe remarked dryly. “Weren’t the sirens those unfortunate nymphs who drove men mad?”
“If Mademoiselle Alix drives men mad, I’m certain that it is only because of her beauty and charm,” Major Harris volunteered.
“That must be it.”
“Why Mademoiselle de La Brou, it appears you have made a conquest,” Anne teased.
“Your ladyship is reading much into a simple ride in the park,” Alix said, glancing at Rafe. “I am merely taking the opportunity to become better acquainted with one of your countrymen since it seems England is to be my home for some time.”
“Forever, it is to be hoped,” Major Harris said fervently.
Forever, indeed, Rafe reflected with annoyance, living in his home, surrounded by his children and far from the likes of smooth-tongued cavalry officers.
“Well, Major Harris,” Anne said pleasantly, “you must be certain to show Mademoiselle de La Brou all of the interesting sites London has to offer in your effort to convince her to stay.”
“I shall make it my duty,” he agreed.
“Shall we continue on Moreham?” Anne asked as she urged her horse forward, an amused smile playing about her thin lips.
When she had seen how Rafe fixed on Mademoiselle de La Brou at the Kensington’s the other night, and then come upon him riding with her yesterday, she could have sworn he was developing a tendresse for the chit.
But today the two looked at each other like cats that had been thrown together in a bag.
This ride was turning out to be quite enjoyable.
“Quite a charming couple, wouldn’t you say?
” she said, turning back to Rafe. “I understand you are having some redecorating done at Moreham House. I should be most interested in seeing the work. Your townhouse is so lovely, but perhaps”—she inclined her head slightly—“a bit lacking in the warmth of a woman’s touch. ”
Rafe wondered how Anne had found out about the work in Moreham House.
Nothing that occurred in Mayfair, it appeared, escaped her notice.
“It’s a small project, my lady, something that would, I fear, hold little interest for you.
” He smiled at her, and she seemed satisfied with his answer.
She would have been horrified, he knew, if she could read his mind and trace the source of his smile.
Because Anne Dinsmore was the last person he would allow to see the redecorating he had planned, his wedding gift for Alix.
He had surprised himself by confessing to his stepmother his intention to marry in December.
Louisa was delighted. “Alix seems like a lovely girl,” she’d said, but then she frowned at the prospect of a winter wedding.
“London is so dark and depressing then. Why not wait until the spring or the summer and marry at Moreham Hall?” Shaking her head she’d said, “I know it’s silly of me, but I do love a wedding that’s full of flowers. ”
Louisa’s words scratched at his conscience.
He found himself recalling the short, dreary ceremony at the Place de la Grève.
Alix never raised the subject of their wedding being in December.
Surely that was peculiar, he thought. Weren’t women supposed to become excited about planning such festivities?
He had found himself wanting to surprise her, wanting to make sure she remembered their wedding for all of her days.
And Louisa, he had decided, was just the person to help him with his plan.
Alix might choose to lead him a merry dance, but in the end she was still his wife. He grinned as he glanced at Lady Anne, grateful she’d reminded him he held all the cards. And he never gambled unless he was certain he could win.