An Inconvenient Wife (34 page)

“Your flowers are so pretty,
Juliette.”

Juliette greeted Anne at the
door, arms outstretched to embrace her lightly. “They
are
marvelous,
aren’t they? I can say it because Mother Lynton is responsible, although I am
starting to implement some of my ideas in other areas of the gardens.” She
stepped back and smiled. “Do give your things to Jarvis and we will have a
comfortable coze in the morning room. Are you hungry? We can eat now, if you
like, or have a glass of wine and some of Cook’s cheese biscuits. Delicious, I
assure you.”

“Oh, the wine and biscuits,
please.”

“Jarvis, you heard…wine and biscuits
it is.” Looking resigned at this further evidence of his mistress’ informal
ways, the butler went off, shaking his head. “Jarvis finds me a sad trial,”
Juliette said, leading the way to a sunny room at the back of the house.

Anne had been to Lynton Hall
previously but never in this section of the house, and she halted at the door,
dazzled by the light pouring in through the high, many-paned windows. The
furnishings—graceful chairs and sofas covered with fabric striped in rose and
pale green—suited
the warm, inviting ambience. A stunning bowl of
Chinese porcelain held a potpourri lightly scenting the air. Roses, Anne
decided when she took a deep breath, with a hint of something
greener
.
An herb, perhaps.

“Why, this is beautiful. How
you must enjoy spending time in here.” Anne followed her hostess to a pair of
chairs placed between two windows, out of the direct sun.

“Thank you. I will take
credit for this. Mother Lynton has another suite of rooms she prefers, and this
one hadn’t been used for years. I raided the attics, which are positively
packed
with fascinating flotsam. I doubt if any St. Clair ever threw
anything
away,
but I do love this furniture, so it is well they did not,
n’est-ce pas
?”
Juliette paused while a footman brought in a serving cart holding a plate
of flaky cheese pastries and several decanters of wine. “Will you have sherry,
Anne, or do you prefer ratifia?”

“Sherry, please.” Anne
accepted a glass and smiled her thanks. “I have never acquired a taste for
ratifia”

“How wise of you! I think it
dreadful stuff.” Juliette also took a glass and after one sip, set it on the
cart. “This is excellent wine, from one of Westcott’s Portuguese holdings, I
believe.”

“One thing we have in
abundance at Westhorp is wine,” Anne said dryly. The extent of Westcott’s
business enterprises had come as a surprise, and she suspected she still did
not know the whole of it.

Juliette laughed. “I’m sure
you do. Westcott is very generous, however, and keeps us well supplied also. I
normally enjoy it immensely, but at the moment a sip or two is all I can
tolerate.”

“Oh, the wine isn’t
necessary. Please don’t feel you need to have it for my sake,” Anne said in
some distress. “Do ring for tea or some other beverage.”

Juliette threw up her hands.
“Think nothing of it. I am content to nibble on Cook’s cheese pastries just
now. We will have tea with our meal. Tell me how the children go on. Are they
still in alt over that remarkable performance yesterday?”

“Most certainly, and looking
forward to doing it again for the entire staff.” She took a small bite of a
biscuit, and then casually changed the subject. “Do tell me about your dinner
party. Is it to be a large gathering?” Anne heard a note of apprehension in her
voice and sighed. “I am somewhat nervous about meeting so many. I am certain
everyone is curious about me.”

Juliette snorted. “Of course
they are, but no one will
appear
to be. Simply be yourself and you will
be fine. The group is small enough to give everyone the opportunity to speak
with you, and large enough that you won’t be the center of attention. That
position is reserved for Westcott. He has been something of a recluse these
past years, you know.”

Anne nodded. “I gathered as
much, and he is scarcely more so now.”

“St. Clair feels he is
coming out of his shell. Just note how friendly he is with me. Before you came,
the man hardly knew I existed. You’ve brought change, and he is the better for
it.”

Anne took another mouthful
of wine, picked up a biscuit and bit at it absentmindedly.

“At times it seems so, but
it never lasts. It’s hard to know where one
is
with him.” She placed her
glass and half-eaten biscuit on a plate and laced her fingers together in her
lap. “My nomadic life has not allowed for much opportunity to make lasting
friends. Your friendship means a great deal to me, Juliette. I feel I’ve known
you forever, even though it has been just a few months.”

“
Exactly
how it’s
been with me.” Juliette leaned forward and rested a hand on Anne’s fists. “I am
so glad you feel the same.” She smiled, wiping her eyes with one hand. “Happy
tears, I assure you. I weep at the slightest thing these days.”

Anne felt her own eyes
dampen and turned her palm up to squeeze Juliette’s fingers. “I haven’t any
excuse and am truly too pleased for tears.”

Juliette sniffed, pulled a
handkerchief from her pocket, and smiled as she dabbed at her face.

“Now, I am sure you had a
reason for your visit. Not that you are not welcome at any time, but I know the
children keep you busy.”

The moment at hand, Anne
suddenly felt reluctant to broach so personal a matter. Would Juliette be
embarrassed or, worse, offended? She stared at the floor, the walls, everywhere
except her companion.

“Is it so very bad?”
Juliette asked softly.

Anne settled her gaze on
Juliette, encouraged by the kind expression of interest on her face. “No, I am
being foolish,” she said. “I did come for advice, but it is a somewhat delicate
matter and don’t want to distress you. I hope you will be honest and send me to
the right about, if so.”

“It would take a great deal
to shock me,” Juliette said, appearing amused. “Do not, I beg you, leave me
imagining all sorts of unpleasant things.”

“I see that would be most
unfair,” Anne said with a laugh, and felt her qualms subside.
Just say it,
Anne, and trust in your friendship.
“Nicholas came to my bed last night.”
There, it was out, and Juliette did not look shocked or horrified. In fact, she
seemed to be holding back laughter.

“Forgive me! You seem so
surprised,” Juliette said. “When it’s obvious the man is quite taken with you,
even if he won’t admit it.” She hesitated and her smile faded. “Are you sorry,
Anne?”

“Oh, no! I wanted it, as I
think you’ve guessed. But Nicholas is….” She swallowed hard. “He apologized to
me, after….”

“It’s amazing how truly
stupid
men can be,” Juliette said cheerfully, “and so good at lying to themselves.
Don’t think for a minute Westcott lost control. The man has an iron will. He
wanted
you,
whatever he thinks he believes
.”

Heartened, Anne gathered up
her courage, pressed her clasped hands to her breast, and resolve strengthening
her voice, said, “I want him to come again.”

“So does he, I wager, and it
is up to
you
to get him there. What you need, my dear, is a campaign. My
Grandfather, General Lawford, always recommends going on the offensive when
pressured.”

Anne blinked, taken unawares
by this matter-of-fact declaration. “A campaign?” she echoed weakly.

Juliette’s smile was a
formidable combination of challenge, delight, and a hint of sly that stirred up
butterflies in Anne’s middle. Obviously, her friend had something outrageous in
mind, and Anne could only pray she had the fortitude to carry it out.

Chapter Twenty-eight

The woman was driving him
mad—whether intentionally or in innocence, it was impossible to tell. In either
case, she seemed always to be
there
, brushing against him, resting a
hand on his arm, leaning over his shoulder when he read to Sarah, her sweet
breath tickling his ear. Now this!

Westcott watched his wife
descend the staircase at Lynton Hall, her face bright with laughter at some
comment of Juliette’s, and far too wide an expanse of creamy skin exposed by
her fashionable gown. Blue muslin, so pale as to be almost white, embroidered
with silver thread, the fine fabric fell gracefully from the snug bodice that
barely covered her enticingly rounded breasts—fuller than one would expect on
so slim a build as Anne’s. A perfect handful, warm and sensitive, and he wanted
nothing more than to insist she change into a more modest gown, preferably one
that buttoned to the neck. The sleeves were mere scraps clinging to her smooth
shoulders and the elbow-length kid gloves did nothing but draw attention to her
shapely,
bare
, arms.

Bloody hell
.
Westcott felt his cock swell. Gad, it was well his coat was long, and he prayed
it was long enough! Dragging his mind away from the picture of Anne in his bed,
flushed and trembling beneath him, he moved to greet the two women. His face
felt hard and set, and he forced a smile as he took Anne’s hand.

“Your gown is lovely.
You
are lovely,” he said, and winced inwardly at the cool note in his voice.

Her eyes widened in
surprise, but it seemed his sincerity was apparent to her for she smiled—one of
those heartfelt smiles she usually saved for the children.

“Thank you. Juliette helped
me choose it.”

“I made suggestions! Your
wife has definite ideas as to what she wants,” Juliette said with a ripple of
laughter.

So I am beginning to
realize,
Westcott thought, his mouth tightening at the
appreciative look in St. Clair’s eyes as he expressed his approval, of both the
gown and Anne. Damn his eyes. Disgruntled by the glowing look on her face at
the praise, he stepped closer, deliberately allowing his breath to brush her
bare skin, and felt her shiver in response. Two could play at this game, if a
game it was.

“Juliette has excellent
taste,” Anne said with a soft gasp.

“Yes, she does,” Westcott
agreed as he turned to his hostess. “A striking gown and perfect on you,
Juliette.” A deep blue with an overskirt of gauze worked with glittering beads,
the style much as Anne’s gown, but the neckline was more a vee than the square
cut of his wife’s. A pendant of diamonds and sapphires was nestled in the cleft
of her breasts, and he realized he had never offered Anne the family jewels.
Nor
given her so much as the smallest trinket. Which explains why she is wearing a
simple multi-strand pearl necklace. Very fine pearls, if he was any judge, but
not the diamonds due his viscountess.

“Now that we have lauded our
finery, I suggest we partake of a drink before the other guests make an
appearance,” St. Clair said, shooting Westcott an amused glance that expressed
his awareness of Nick’s possessive stance.

Westcott glared at him, and
releasing Anne’s hand, splayed his fingers on her back just above her waist.
Boorish, his enjoyment of her shocked start, he thought without a shred of
guilt, and guided her after their hosts. Too bad gloves were
de rigueur
.
Bare skin, warm under your touch.…
Westcott dropped his hand.
Dammit,
what the devil are you doing? You swore never again to fall into that trap! No
woman alive is worth setting yourself up for heartache.
Hiding his grim
thoughts behind a feigned expression of interest in the conversation, Westcott
took the glass handed to him by a footman and moved casually as far from Anne
as he could without seeming obvious about it. Other guests drifted in, most of
who were staying at Lynton Hall, as they were, and soon Anne was in the midst
of the group. Assured of her comfort, Westcott allowed a lively discussion of
planting practices amongst several of his neighbors to wash over him.

The evening stretched on
endlessly, or so it felt. Once the interminable dinner ended and Anne was once
again occupied with the other guests, Westcott was more easily able to stand
apart, even going so far as to play a few hands of whist, a game he normally
avoided like the plague. His amazement at Anne’s ready agreement to perform,
midway through the evening, was tempered by the realization it had obviously
been prearranged. A small anteroom was revealed when the double doors at the
end of the drawing room opened to display a harpsichord.

Westcott had never heard her
play anything but the flute and guitar, but knew enough to understand how
talented she was musically. Curious, he settled into a chair in a corner, out
of her line of sight.

“I am unaccustomed to
performing in public but Lady Lynton—both Lady Lyntons—refused to take no for
an answer. I was successful, however, in choosing the program. I’ve sat through
too many over-long musicales to inflict that on you. One piece, which I believe
everyone will enjoy and then perhaps you will join me in singing some verses.”

Anne’s quiet voice soon
captured everyone’s attention, Westcott saw, hiding a smile. More effective
than a shout, for some reason. A hush fell over the room as the first notes of
what he later learned was a Bach toccata, flowed from the instrument with an
ease that gave no sign of the hours of practice he felt certain were required
to obtain that level of skill. Making a mental note to have Atkinson find out
just how long it was going to take to get that piano, he was on his feet and
applauding the instant the music ended.