“Good afternoon, Lord and Lady Grayson,” the earl said tightly.
Isabel straightened. “Lord Hargreaves, a pleasure.”
But it was not, not for any of them. The tension was palpable. “Excuse us,” Gerard said when Hargreaves continued to block the doorway. “We were on our way out.”
“Lovely to see you again, my lord,” Isabel murmured, her voice unusually somber.
“Yes,” Hargreaves muttered, stepping aside. “Quite.”
Opening the door, Gerard gave one last studious look at his rival, and then led his wife out with a hand at the small of her back. They walked slowly down the street, both lost in their thoughts. Several pedestrians attempted to approach, but a narrowed glance was effective at keeping them away.
“That was awkward,” he muttered finally.
“You noted that, did you?” she said, refusing to look at him.
In a way, he missed the overconfidence of his youth. Four years ago, he would have brushed off the encounter as amusing. In fact, he had done that very thing on several occasions, as social engagements had brought him face to face with Pel’s lovers, and she with his. Now he was all too aware of his flaws and shortcomings, and to his knowledge the popular and respected Hargreaves had none.
“I’ve no notion of how I will explain your comment to him,” she said, obviously upset.
“He knew the risks when he chose to dally with another man’s wife.”
“There were no risks! No one could predict that you would come home daft.”
“It is not daft to desire your spouse. Pretending you don’t, however, is ridiculous.”
He stopped abruptly as a merchant door swung inward, and a customer ran out directly before them.
“My apologies, my lady!” the man cried to Pel, tipping his hat before he strode away quickly.
Gerard looked at the establishment, curious about the reason for the man’s excitability. His mouth curved as he reached for the door.
“A jeweler’s?” Isabel asked with a frown.
“Yes, vixen. There is something I should have attended to years ago.”
He urged her inside, and the clerk lifted his head from the sales record book with a smile. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady.”
“That was a happy man who just departed,” Gerard noted.
“Ah yes,” the clerk agreed. “A bachelor embarking on an offer of marriage, which is strengthened by the lovely ring he purchased today.”
In search of equal pleasure, Gerard perused the offerings in the glass cases.
“What are you looking for?” Pel asked, bending over beside him. Her scent appealed to him so deeply, he wished he could lay amongst satin sheets infused with it. With her graceful limbs entwined with his, it would be heaven.
“Have you always smelled so wonderful, Pel?” He turned his head to look at her, and found her almost nose to nose.
She pulled back with a blink. “Gray, really. Can we put off a discussion on perfumery, and find what you want?”
Smiling, he caught her hand, and glanced up at the hovering clerk. “That one.” He pointed to the largest ring in the case-a massive ruby surrounded by diamonds, and supported by a filigreed band of gold.
“Heavens,” Pel breathed, as it came out from behind its glass shield and sparkled in the light.
Gerard lifted her hand, and sized the ring on her finger, pleased to see it fit snugly, but not too tightly, over her glove. Now, she looked like a married woman. “Perfect.”
“No.”
He arched a brow, and discerned his wife’s distress. “Why not?”
“It…it’s too large,” she protested.
“It suits you.” He lounged against the case, and smiled, keeping her hand trapped firmly within his own. “While I was in Lincolnshire-”
“You were?” she asked quickly.
“Amongst other places,” he said, stroking her palm. “I would watch the sunset, and think of you. There were times when a ribbon of red clouds in the sky would exactly match the highlights in your hair. When the light catches that ruby, it reflects almost the same color.”
She stared at him as he lifted her hand to his mouth. He kissed first the stone, and then the middle of her gloved palm, relishing the opportunity to be close to someone again.
The sunrises, with all their warm golden beauty, had brought memories of Em. He’d dreaded them at first. Each morning reminded him that another day had come, and Emily would not be living it. Later, the warmth the sun brought had been a benediction, a reminder that he had another opportunity to become a better man.
The sunsets, however, had always belonged to Pel. The darkening sky and the welcoming blanket of night that disregarded his imperfections-that was Isabel, who never pried. The sensuality of a bed, and the moments when he could release the stress of the day-that was Isabel, too, lying on her chaise in her boudoir. How odd that her lighthearted companionship had come to mean so much to him, and yet he’d never noticed it when it had been his to enjoy.
“You should save your silver tongue for a woman less jaded than I.”
“Dear Pel,” he murmured, smiling. “I adore that you are jaded. You hold no illusions about my less-than-sterling character.”
“I have no idea what your character is anymore.” She pulled away, and he released her. Straightening her spine, Isabel glanced around the small store. When she saw the clerk busy recording their transaction, she said, “I don’t understand why you would say such things to me, Gray. You never had any romantic notions, nor sexual ones, to my knowledge.”
“What color are the flowers in front of our house?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The flowers. Do you know what color they are?”
“Certainly, they’re red.”
He arched a brow. “Are you certain?”
She crossed her arms, and arched her own brow. “Yes, I’m certain.”
“And the ones in the planters by the street?”
“What?”
“The planters by the street have flowers in them. Do you know what color those blooms are?”
Isabel chewed her lower lip.
Gerard tugged off his glove, and then tugged that lush bottom lip out of her teeth. “Do you?”
“They are pink.”
“They’re blue.”
He moved his hand to her shoulder, and stroked the creamy expanse of skin with his thumb. The heat of her flesh burned through his fingertips, and spread up his arm, igniting a hunger such as he had not felt in years. For so long he had been numb and frozen inside. To feel this heat, to desire to burn with her touch, to want so desperately to be scorched inside her…He relished all of it.
“Blue flowers, Pel.” His voice was huskier than he’d like. “I’ve found people tend to take for granted the things they see every day. But just because one fails to see something, does not mean it isn’t there.”
Goose bumps prickled her skin. He felt them, even through the calluses on his fingertips.
“Please.” She brushed his hand away. “Don’t lie, and say pretty things, and attempt to make the past into what you wish it to be in the present. We were nothing to each other, nothing. And I wanted it that way. I
“Why?”
“Why?” she parroted.
“Yes, my lovely wife, why? Why did you like our marriage as a sham?”
Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You liked it as a sham, too.”
Gerard smiled. “I know the reasons why I liked it, but we are talking about you.”
“Here you are, Lord Grayson,” the clerk said with a wide smile.
Cursing inwardly at the interruption, Gerard dipped the proffered quill in ink and signed the bill. He waited until
