Constance, in the meantime, was handling the situation far better than he-telling everyone within earshot how happy the match had made her and how satisfied Simon was that Quinn had chosen his own dear cousin to marry, reminding everyone that the new couple were not related by blood -in short, giving the whole scandalous affair at least a veneer of respectability.
'I don't know how you manage it so well, Connie,' he growled as she slipped into the curve of his arm. 'All I want to do is shove my fist in their smirking faces!'
'Of course you do, my darling. But that's because you're only slightly more civilized than a mountain goat.'
Simon smiled softly down at her. 'I didn't hear any complaints from you this afternoon.'
'I lower my standards when I'm undressed,' she whispered back.
They danced with great contentment for some time, secretly celebrating their discovery of each other. Although neither had put it into words, both were strangely reluctant to announce their future plans quite yet. Plenty of time later for wagging tongues to have their day, hanging the news out like so much laundry on a public clothesline. Speculating. 'Her husband's barely been dead for two years, you know.' For now, it was theirs alone.
As they left the dance floor one of those brief moments of silence that sometimes unaccountably falls on a large gathering came over the assemblage. The butler's sonorous voice inserted itself into the breach.
'Mr. and Mrs. Quinn Copeland.'
As if in one body, the eyes of the guests turned to the doorway. No one spoke. No one moved.
The couple stood at the top of a trio of black marble stairs, Noelle to the side and slightly in front of Quinn. Proudly, even arrogantly, they stared down at their peers, by their imperiousness silently daring anyone to utter a word of censure. The glow from the chandelier caught Noelle's gown and turned it to molten bronze, then touched the topaz pendant and set it glittering wickedly on her bare flesh. There was a muffled exclamation as the gathering took in the gown that plunged to her waist and exposed the inner curves of her breasts, unmistakably accented by the golden stone.
Then Quinn lifted his hand. Lightly, possessively, he rested it on his wife's shoulder so there would be no misunderstanding. She was his.
To Noelle, it seemed they stood there forever. No one watching could suspect how her heart was racing, how much she longed to be anywhere except where she was.
Then Constance's voice rose above the stunned silence of the room. 'Leora Atterbury, what a cunning creature you are, inviting these naughty newly weds. Not a person here guessed your surprise. I vow, it has quite made your ball! Ah, well, who can blame you for wanting to be the first to snag them. Dabney, how lucky you are to have such a clever wife. I'm positively green with envy for not thinking of it myself.'
Leaving her host and hostess bewildered but pleased, she made her way to Noelle. 'My dear, you will set a new fashion with that outrageously flattering gown. I'll wager there will be a dozen like it by this time next week. Now come along, both of you. I know Leora and Dabney will insist you lead the next set.'
Constance's audaciousness proved to be more successful than even she had dared hope. In a closed society boredom was a greater enemy than scandal, and it was not long before the guests were vying for the attention of the notorious couple. Afterward, the women bestowed whispered dispensations on each other.
'Scandalous, of course. But really, what is one to do? After all, the Atterbury s did invite them.'
There was only one guest who held back. Miserably he watched the bridegroom, and only when Quinn was finally alone, did he approach. They spoke quietly for a few minutes. Quinn laughed. The guest's manner became agitated. Finally he jerked himself away from Quinn and strode purposefully toward the bride.
'Miss Pope-that is, Mrs. Copeland, may I have the next dance?'
'Why, Mr. Sully!' Noelle smiled. 'What a pleasant surprise. It's good to see a genuinely friendly face.' And then she looked at him more closely. 'Is something the matter?'
'I-please!' he blurted out. 'Could we go somewhere to talk?'
'Why, yes, of course.'
As he led her out through a side door and into a small anteroom, Noelle wondered what had made Tom Sully so distraught. She knew he had been attracted to her but was certain his feelings ran no deeper than infatuation, so he could hardly be too upset about the marriage. What, then?
She took a seat in a low-backed Windsor chair. 'Suppose you tell me what is wrong.'
He paced about the small room, stopped, looked at her, and his eyes fell to her breasts. He flushed and looked back up at her face, struggling to keep his gaze from dropping again. 'It's so difficult. I -I cannot credit such an action. He has placed you in an impossible position.'
'Who has?'
'Your husband!' He spat out the last word contemptuously, his plump cheeks shaking with anger. 'I tried to talk with him earlier, but he told me to mind my own business. Said he knew what he was about. When I threatened to tell you myself, he only laughed. Dorian, please believe me. I'd as soon put a knife through my own heart as hurt you this way.'
Noelle was becoming genuinely worried. 'Tell me what this is all about. The longer you delay, the more you are alarming me.'
'All right then, here it is.' He nervously twisted a large silver signet ring as he spoke. 'Almost two years ago, Quinn and I were on our way to meet Simon. It was late. We'd both been drinking rather more than usual, and we ended up wandering out of the Haymarket into a street-little more than an alley, really-where we were accosted by a pickpocket…'
Noelle listened with dismay to his story. How stupid of her not to have anticipated this. Of course Thomas was distraught. He believed Quinn was married to two women at the same time!
As he concluded, Thomas knelt down on one knee in front of her and took her hand in his. 'Dorian, I wish I were not the one who had to tell you this, but you must understand-your marriage is neither legal nor binding.'
'Thomas, I'm afraid you are mistaken. The marriage is, unfortunately, both legal and binding.'
'Dash it!' he exclaimed. 'I'm giving you the facts. You must believe me. It's the truth!'
Torn between laughter and tears at the awful irony of it, Noelle reached out her free hand and put it on his upper arm. 'I knowed yer was speakin' the truth, ducks. I was there when it all 'appened.'
Thomas's jaw went slack. He stared up at her, not even blinking, so dumbfounded was he by her revelation. Finally he closed his mouth, then opened it to speak, forgot what he was going to say, and closed it again.
'My God, Sully, you look like a salmon about to propose!'
Furiously Thomas dropped Noelle's hand and jumped up off his knee. 'Devil take you! I've half a mind to call you out! Why didn't you tell me the truth instead of letting me make a bloody jackass of myself. You knew I would keep it quiet.'
Quinn rambled into the room, smiling crookedly. 'Sorry, Tom, but I couldn't resist. My little pickpocket's changed quite a bit, hasn't she?'
This was too much for Noelle. 'I'm not your little pickpocket, and I think you've treated Mr. Sully abominably!'
As she swept from the room the topaz swung back and forth on her bare skin like an indignant pendulum. Little pickpocket, indeed! When she reached the ballroom, she rounded the corner too sharply and bumped up against the back of a pale pink dress.
'I'm sorry. How clumsy of me.'
'Why, Dorian, what a surprise!' As she turned Catherine Welby's smile was sweet, but her saucer-blue eyes were cold. 'You're in such demand this evening, I hadn't thought to have the opportunity to offer you my best wishes.'
'Thank you, Miss Welby,' Noelle responded politely while she glanced surreptitiously around her for a means of escape.
'I've already congratulated your husband, but perhaps it's really you who should be congratulated. Fancy stealing your own cousin right out from under our noses.'
'In point of fact, we are not actually cousins.' Determined to avoid an encounter that could only be unpleasant, Noelle began to move away, but Catherine had no intention of letting her go so easily.
'I must say, I admire your strength of character. I vow, I don't know another woman who would be able to endure public censure so calmly.'
