An Undomesticated Wife (11 page)

“Good morning, Marcus,” she said with the warm huskiness that gripped him and refused to let go. Realizing he could hear her say those words every day for the rest of his life was an intoxicating thought.

He took the hand she held out to him. Seating her, he slipped his hands across her shoulders. He spoke her name, and she turned that luminous green gaze on him. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face toward him. Hungrily he feasted on her soft lips. As her arm curved around his neck, he deepened the kiss, needing to claim every delight they could share.

“Good morning, Regina,” he murmured, not releasing her. He wondered whether her eyes or her smile sparkled more brilliantly.

“Speak up, my boy,” chided the dowager duchess. “How is one expected to hear you?”

Regina's fine brows arched, and Marcus bit back his amusement. Taking his own chair, he replied, “There are some things that even you should not be privy to, Grandmother.”

“Nonsense!”

“Mother,” the duke said as he opened his newspaper again, “do leave off teasing them. Pink may be a charming color, but you should not be putting Regina to the blush simply because you wish to tease your grandson.”

Marcus chuckled as he squeezed Regina's hand beneath the table. Her soft smile teased him to tug her back into his arms. Something must be done to relieve this craving, or he feared he would go mad and do something insane like falling in love with his wife. That would prove he was want-witted, and he would do anything to avoid that.

“It is unheard of that the groom would attend a fitting of the bride's wedding gown.” The dowager duchess's pursed lips revealed her displeasure.

“If I must suffer these interminable fittings, he should not be exempt,” returned Regina. She held her chin high. If she were fortunate, the dowager duchess would relent and Regina would be able to escape today's trip to Mme. LaPorte's shop. They had been going to visit the
modiste
every day since her arrival in London. The trips that had been tiresome at the beginning were growing more taxing by the day.

Marcus smiled. “I need not be fitted. My best coat will serve when I stand by your side before the minister.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Then I shall wear my best. I have no need for a wedding gown. After all, this is nothing but a farce.”

The dowager duchess fanned herself with her hand as she gasped, “Dear me! What a to-do!”

“Your Grace, I—” Regina gasped when Marcus seized her arm.

“If you will excuse us, Grandmother,” he said more coldly than Regina had ever heard him speak.

When he tugged her in the direction of the sitting room on the first floor, she wanted to resist. A single glance at the firm set of his jaw warned her that he was not in a mood to be trifled with.

She waited until he closed the door before she said, “I trust this is the last time you shall think it permissible to drag me about the house.”

“Only if you realize that you must temper your tongue around Grandmother!” Anger twisted his lips as he faced her. “I thought I had given you warning that, in spite of her vibrancy, Grandmother needs to be treated with care.”

“Disagreeing with her does nothing to harm her. In fact, she enjoys a good brangle.”

“True, but you are trying to put a halt to something that matters deeply to her.”

Regina sniffed. “Why should she care so much about something so unimportant?”

“I am her only grandson and the heir to the title her husband once held.”

“So I am supposed to be grateful for the opportunity to be poked and pinned and bored nearly to delirium solely so your family can have the pageantry it craves every generation?”

He fisted his hand on the back of the settee. “Must you always be a virago?”

“I am no virago.”

“No? You constantly prattle about everything you do not like about this wedding.”

“Mayhap,” she said with a sigh, “because there is nothing I like about it. Oh, Marcus, can't you see the truth? This is just compounding a mistake. I am so bored.”

“How can you be bored when Grandmother has planned an at-home for you twice a week?”

She toyed with the intricate carving on a table. “Have you ever attended one of the dowager duchess's at-homes?”

“One.” His nose wrinkled at the memory. “I found her friends full of opinions about matters of scanty importance.”

“Exactly.”

“But I thought all women enjoyed poker-talk about the
ton
and fashion and the Season.”

“I am not, I am beginning to perceive, like other women. That is why, Marcus, I urge you to reconsider this futility. A wedding ceremony when we are already married is absurd.”

“Whether or not it is absurd does not change the fact that Grandmother wishes you to go for that fitting today.”

“How can you owe that this is useless but still wish me to play a part in it? Have you no mind of your own to put the facts together?”

His eyes narrowed with fury. “I have heard enough! I expect you to cooperate with Grandmother from this point forward.”

“Then you shall be disappointed.”

“Regina,” he said lowly, “that was no request.”

“I know.”

Marcus scowled as she folded her arms in front of her. Dash it! This woman was determined to differ with him at every opportunity. And just a short time ago, he was thinking how charming she was! She might be enticing, but she was maddening as well.

A wife was supposed to obey her husband. She was supposed to honor his requests, and she was supposed to cherish him and bear his children. Regina had not done one of the things she had promised when she spoke those vows.

His gaze riveted on the soft lips that had framed those words. Before he could halt himself, he grasped her arms again and brought her against him. He clamped his mouth over hers before she could pull away. When she responded to his kiss, her lips parting, he enfolded her in his arms. Her breath pulsed against him as he probed deeper within her mouth. A fierce shiver swept through him, drawing every muscle tauter, as he bent to brush the bare skin above her modest
décolletage
with his tongue. Her fingers clenched on his sleeves as she moaned softly.

The sound of the dowager duchess's cane knocking on the door was answered by Regina's regretful sigh as Marcus released her. With a rueful smile he said, “What I would give to have you alone right now, Regina!”

“Are you coming or not?” came the dowager duchess's impatient voice.

“Are you?” he echoed quietly.

“Yes.” Regina did not meet his eyes, and he suspected he would have agreed to any reason to part, as they were finding it near impossible to govern the passion between them. He was astonished when she added, “But only if you will join us, Marcus.”

“I have no interest in dawdling at a
couturière's
shop.”

“Nor do I.” She raised her chin, a challenging smile on her lips. “If you are determined to have this wedding, Marcus, then you should have to suffer for it as well.”

He laughed. “As if being married to you does not give me enough chances to suffer already.”

“Good,” she retorted, her smile never wavering as the door opened, “then you should enjoy visiting Mme. LaPorte's shop with us.”

“You are coming with us?” The dowager duchess chuckled. “How sweet of you, Marcus! Isn't that sweet of him, Regina?”

“So sweet. Who would have guessed he would agree to join us?”

The dowager duchess linked her arm with Marcus's, giving him no chance to reply to Regina's sarcasm. “Didn't I tell you that things are going wonderfully?”

Marcus locked eyes with Regina as he wondered how one slight woman could upset his life so utterly. “Yes, Grandmother, just wonderfully.”

Marcus tapped his hat on his knee and stared at the pile of fabrics. What a ludicrous turn of events! Here he was sitting in the front of Mme. LaPorte's shop while Regina was in the back being fitted for a gown she did not want. Although he had not wanted to own up to the truth, he agreed with her. Having another wedding ceremony was only a pointless delay.

The ride in the Park had confirmed what he had known already. Regina was a sweet fruit ready to be enjoyed. How he would delight in peeling aside the soft silks she wore as he reveled in the pleasures of teaching her to be the wife he wanted!

A wry smile tugged at his lips. That discovery would be denied him on Berkeley Square until the wedding, but he suspected Jocelyn would be willing to be absent from her townhouse if he wished to bring Regina there. Jocelyn was anxious for their lives to return to the way they had been before Regina's arrival. What better way than to satisfy his appetite for this tasty morsel who was, after all, his wife?

This was, he decided, the best idea he had had in a long time.

This was, Regina had decided, the very worst idea the dowager duchess had had in a long time. No gown, wedding or not, should be this much trouble. Surely an hour had already passed, and Madame was still jabbing pins into the gown at Regina's waist.

“
C'est magnifique!
” announced the
modiste
as Regina slowly turned, allowing her to see the gown from every angle. “Who would have guessed that such a dress could be designed and sewn in so short a time?
Très magnifique!
”

The dowager duchess nodded. “I must own that you have outdone even your past masterpieces,
madame
. You do like it, don't you, Regina?”

“It is lovely,” she said, wondering how they would have reacted if she had disagreed. Not that she could. She never had seen a gown like this one of net and tulle, which she would wear over a slip of the purest white satin.

The deep neckline cut low across her breasts and bared her shoulders, but the tiny silk ruffle edging it gave the gown a wisp of innocence. Looking into the glass as she turned, she watched the scalloped hem flutter to reveal her stockings. The dowager duchess had ordered a pair of elbow-length gloves for her and had hinted that Regina should wear the Whyte family diamonds to her wedding.

On that, although she had said nothing, Regina intended to be stubborn. Her father had given her a small box with her mother's jewelry upon her sixteenth birthday. She would wear her mother's pearls to give her a connection with her family though they could not be at the ceremony.

The dowager duchess tapped her cane on the floor and chuckled. “You have kept your reputation as a miracle-worker,
madame
, with this. Who would have guessed you could arrange to have Lady Daniston's wedding gown nearly done more than a week before the wedding?”

“I vow,” the
modiste
said around a mouthful of pins which she was jabbing into the seams for the final fitting, “that I shall never attempt to complete a gown in ten days again.” She smiled. “Only for a wonderful customer like you, Your Grace.”

“You flatter me,” the old woman replied, but Regina could tell she was pleased.

“Such a patron as Lady Daniston makes the work a delight,” continued Mme. LaPorte.

Regina bit back her answer. Only the dowager duchess's influence … and well-filled purse had gained her this gown. Nothing else.

As she hurriedly redressed, she wondered if Marcus would be as silent on the ride back to Berkeley Square as he had been on the way here. She thanked Mme. LaPorte's assistant, a short girl with a snag-toothed smile, when the girl finished hooking her up. Settling her bonnet on her hair, she tied it beneath her chin as she followed the dowager duchess out of the fitting room. She was surprised to see Marcus sitting with his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Wake up,” the dowager duchess scolded as she jabbed at Marcus's leg with the tip of her cane.

He tipped back his hat and grinned. “I'm not asleep, Grandmother. Just thinking.” When his grin widened as he glanced at her, Regina wondered what he had been thinking about. Whatever it was, the thoughts had agreed with him. The only times she had seen such a pleased smile on his face was when he held her in his arms.

A wave of dismay coursed through her. He brought his particular to this shop to shower her with gifts. During their heated discussion, she had refrained from saying that he had not balked at accompanying Mrs. Simpson here. She blinked back tears. She knew speaking of his mistress was guaranteed to cause trouble, but she wished someone would teach her how to keep the tall brunette from her mind.

The dowager duchess hurried them out of the shop and into the carriage because a misty rain was clinging in an oily sheen to everything. As soon as they were seated in the closed carriage, the old woman closed her eyes. A low rumble of snores punctuated the rattle of the carriage wheels on the cobbles.

Marcus put his finger under Regina's chin and brought her eyes to meet his. “I dislike telling you that I was right—”

“No, you don't!”

“—but I told you that Grandmother needs to be watched closely. See how exhausted she is by a trip to the
modiste?
”

She sighed. “Is that why she never goes anywhere else?”

“That sounds,” he said, stretching his arm along the back of the seat, “as if you are tired of her round of at-homes.”

“I have been in Town for more than a week, and I have seen such a small part of it.”

“Shall we change that?”

“How?”

He waved his hand at the carriage. “We have a way to take you around London anytime you wish.”

“Today?”

“If you wish.”

A brilliant smile brightened her face. “Oh, Marcus, that would be so wonderful! There is so much I want to see and do before we leave for the country at the Season's end.”

“As I do.” He folded her gloved fingers between his. Dash it, he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this lovely sprite who could turn cold at the least provocation. And, if all went as he wished, and he was determined it would, today she would be his.