“It will be discussed when you visit the salon,” Nellie said crisply, in no mood to be flirted with. “An invitation will be sent to advise you of the day.”
He blinked, and his mouth turned down at the corners. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
She was relieved when he made no attempt to talk again for the rest of the dance. Leaving him as soon as she could, Nellie moved through the crowd in search of Charles. She found him with Gerald Belfries.
“Did you enjoy the dance, Nellie?” Charles asked as she joined them.
“Yes, such an amusing man, Mr. Walsh. And so knowledgeable about verse, I was surprised when the set ended.” Nellie was in no mood to admit how tedious she’d found the poet.
“I’m pleased for you, and Mr. Walsh,” Charles said crisply.
Gratified to have annoyed Charles, she turned to Belfries. “Do you know where Marian can be found?”
Gerald turned to look around. “She danced the last set with Blanchard.” He motioned to the far end of the room. “She will be talking to his wife. They are good friends.”
Charles smiled down at her. “My dance next, I believe.”
Belfries chuckled. “Waltzing with your wife? The old dowagers will be appalled.”
“Let them be,” Charles said, his eyes remaining on Nellie. “We should be on our honeymoon. And would be, were it possible to leave London.”
“I’ll join you once the waltz is announced,” Nellie said. “I must find Marian while the orchestra takes a break.” She left the men and made her way to the row of seats near the French doors. Charles always made her feel special and desired. Was he like that with other women? With the Marchioness of Thorburn, for instance?
She moved her fan before her face.
“Dreadfully warm, is it not,” A lady Nellie walked past murmured sympathetically.
“These affairs always are,” Nellie said with a smile. But while her face was hot, her stomach seemed oddly chilled.
“How tired I am of suspecting him,” she confessed to Marian. She’d explained about the roses and Charles’s absence from the ballroom after they’d found a sofa in a quiet alcove. “Am I being unfair?”
“I don’t know,” Marian admitted. “But it might be nothing, Nellie. I would wait for more proof. And in the meantime, eclipse her.”
“Eclipse the beauty? How shall I do that?”
Marian smiled. “I’m sure you’ll think of a way.”
Lady Moncrief entered the alcove and sat on the spare chair. “The ball is such a crush. I hope I receive no more invitations to dance. These shoes pinch my feet most dreadfully,” she sighed. “And they cost me fifty pounds.”
Marian smiled in sympathy. “How very annoying.” She rose. “I have promised the next set to Lord Lacombe. Meet me tomorrow for luncheon at Grillon’s hotel. At one o’clock.”
When the orchestra struck up for a waltz, Nellie stepped into her husband’s arms.
He settled her more closely.
“You will have everyone talking.” She enjoyed being in his strong arms, despite her misgivings.
“We are known to be recently wed. Many here attended our wedding.”
“Men can get away with behavior that a woman cannot,” she said, hating how petulant she sounded.
He moved back a little with a perplexed frown. “What’s the matter, Nellie?”
“I have a slight headache,” she confessed. It was true, her head had begun to throb. “It’s very smoky and hot beneath the chandeliers.”
“Then we shall leave directly after this dance.”
“Thank you.” Nellie smiled up at him, a little shamefaced. She was dancing with the handsomest man in the ballroom, and he expressed concern for her. Was it merely a coincidence that he and Drusilla were absent from the ballroom at the same time? She almost managed to believe it. She must get control of her emotions and think clearly. Marian had said to fight for him, and she was right. Nellie would not go into a decline. “I am still enjoying myself. You dance divinely,” she said as he guided her into a series of turns.
Charles raised an eyebrow. “I do?”
“Yes. I have had my toes trodden on twice tonight by others.”
He grinned. “Such praise might turn my head.” His blue eyes gazed into hers. “Is there something you might want from me?”
She met his gaze boldly. “Possibly.”
“Shall I have to wait to find out what it is?”
“I believe it would be prudent.”
He chuckled. “Dare I suggest it might be the result of Marian’s advice?”
She shook her head with a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace.”
His long fingers tightened around hers. “I’m sure you do, Nellie. And if you continue to look at me like that, I might drag you off in the middle of this dance. That will give the gossips something to talk about.”
Nellie stifled a nervous giggle. Could she bury her concerns and just enjoy what she and Charles had? She wanted to, so much.
The streets were dark on their way home in the coach, the streetlamps having been extinguished. The ball was held a fair distance from Mayfair. She was very aware of the man beside her. She wanted to draw him to her, to have him make love to her, while thoughts of his warm smooth skin beneath her hands, his mouth on hers, him inside her, made her restless. At home, in that bed all her concerns would come rushing back.
He tucked her hand into his. “Tired?”
“No.” She leaned close, and with a hand on his shoulder, whispered in his ear.
He laughed, then closed the blinds. Turning to her, his mouth found hers in a passionate kiss.
*
Nellie. Charles had long suspected she would be unpredictable. And she had been keeping him constantly on his toes. But he had not anticipated her request to make love in the coach. He found himself smiling as his pen hovered over the letter. His earlier concerns about Walsh, evaporating. In the dim light of the coach lamps, he and Nellie had made urgent and passionate love. His bold
