Claiming His Wife (9 page)

“She’s certainly not doing much of
that,” he muttered, giving a small sigh. If only he should be so
lucky as to have Grace actually telling him what was going on in
that beautiful head of hers.

“Give it time,” Wesley
said, with his usual rakish grin. “She’ll come around. Women like
to see us making an effort.” If anyone would know what a woman
wanted, it was certainly Wesley. Alex had been considered a rake as
well, but he’d never seen women flock to anyone the way they had to
Wesley. He was just different enough from the rest of the men in
the
ton
, with his
long, sun-bleached hair and tanned skin, for them to be fascinated
by him.

“And be consistent,” Hugh
said. Something about his voice made it sound like he repeating a
rule he’d learned by rote. Which, of course, he had when his father
had been giving him lessons. “Don’t ever let her get away with
something, no matter how much she begs or pleads. Don’t get
distracted or allow her to seduce you. If you say that she’s going
to be punished for something, then she
needs
to be disciplined every time
she makes an infraction. Otherwise it’s just confusing for everyone
involved.”

“Noted,” Alex murmured.

A tension he hadn’t even
noticed was there seemed to be lifting from his shoulders as the
men all showed both approval and encouragement of his actions.
Since his father had never administered corporeal punishment to
Alex, it wasn’t something he was familiar with and he was reassured
by having others to converse on the subject with. Men who knew his
and Grace’s history and who were supportive of the reconciliation.
Before meeting Wesley, he hadn’t encouraged any relationships with
anyone, because most of the men of the
ton
were either vehemently
disapproving of Grace or wanted to seduce her. He’d found that he
had little patience with men who spoke disparagingly of his wife,
and none at all with the others.

******

Alex had to admire Lady Hyde's acumen
when it came to seating arrangements.  She'd put him in
between herself and Cynthia, buffering him from Irene and giving
Grace the space she needed to relax.  Cynthia was next to
Hugh, which allowed Wesley to sit across from her and keep a
weather eye on her antics.  Although, so far, she'd been quite
pleasant, if a trifle overly familiar with all of the gentlemen.
 It was obvious that she didn't mean anything by it, it was
just in her nature to be both friendly and flirtatious.  Alex
was fairly certain that she didn't even realize the full extent of
her attractions - she seemed to save all of her calculated
flirtations for her husband.

Although that didn't stop Wesley from
giving Hugh a dark look when Cynthia giggled at yet another of his
many quips.  Fortunately Irene didn't seem to be upset or
jealous over Hugh and Cynthia's conversation. 

Tonight, Alex had realized just how
much he'd watched over Irene in the past, obviously to the
detriment of his own marriage.  His automatic response was
always to check on her, ensure that she was enjoying herself and
that she wasn't feeling left out or overwhelmed.  Now his
attention was more on Grace, but he still felt that old, familiar
tug on his senses, demanding that he protect the young woman he
considered his little sister.  

Even with Hugh there, it was hard to
mentally hand off responsibility. 

But he did his best,
listening to the conversation between Eleanor, Grace and Wesley,
very occasionally adding his own input.  At the head of the
table, Irene and Edwin were talking about Hugh's estates and life
in the country.  He was telling her about his parents, whom
the
ton
 knew
as eccentrics, seeing as they didn't even come into the capital for
the Season if they could help it. As the dinner went on, it became
easier to ignore Irene; helped, of course, by his greater interest
in his own wife.

"Where will go you after the wedding
is over?"  Grace was asking Wesley.  Her eyes flitted
over to Alex, and then immediately away again when she saw that he
was looking at her.  The question garnered Cynthia's
attention, turning her away from Hugh, as she looked at Wesley, her
head cocked slightly to the side.  Apparently, whatever plans
he had, he hadn't seen fit to inform his future wife
about.

"We hadn't discussed it yet," Wesley
said, a small smile alighting his face as he looked over at his
soon-to-be wife.  "Probably somewhere on the
Continent."

"Paris," Cynthia said
definitively, her eyes coming alight with excitement at the thought
of seeing new places.

Wesley raised an eyebrow at her.
 Paris was certainly a popular choice, but he wasn't entirely
enamored of the idea of Cynthia surrounded by Frenchmen.  Men
were always going to be intrigued by her ample charms, but the
French would certainly be the most outspoken about
it.  

"Perhaps," he allotted.  "Italy
is also beautiful this time of year."

Cynthia opened her mouth
as if to argue, and then seemed to think better of it as Wesley
gave her another warning look from across the table.  Alex
wondered if he could use such a look to the same effect with Grace.
 Probably not, since she was doing her best to avoid his gaze
anyway. During the dinner he’d made it a point to study the other
men and how they interacted with their wives. All three of them
made great use of certain, firm, looks when they felt like their
wives were bordering on being rude or beginning a discussion they
didn’t approve of. More interestingly was how they easily managed
to catch their wives’ eyes.

A small shift in position, a discreet
cough, and that was all it took. Alex was determined to try it with
Grace eventually, although from watching her he knew that she was
peeking at him on a regular basis anyway. He didn’t even try to
hide his own focus on her, he wanted her to see how she took up his
attention entirely.

"Eleanor and I quite enjoyed Paris,"
Edwin said, grinning down the length of the table at his wife.
 The blushing, happy look she gave him only reminded Alex of
the way he and Grace used to have such easy intimacy and
significant looks.  Hell, he used to smile; now, whenever he
did so, it felt like a strain on his facial muscles, they were so
out of practice.  

Still, they were at this
dinner as a couple, and despite the moments of tension, overall the
evening was going well.  Grace hadn't been rude or insulting,
she'd even responded to him once during the conversation, and
sometimes it was almost possible to forget that they were the only
unhappy couple at the table.  This was what he'd been missing
all these years.

The intimate gathering was
something he’d been missing as well. This was the kind of small
party that marked very deep friendships, where there was no pomp or
circumstance, no social masks or pretense. Not since his school
days had he had friendships this close, and it was all the more
enjoyable because they were Grace’s friends as well. If anything
could help heal the breach between him and his wife, it was the
people around this table.

******

They rode back to their house at the
end of the evening in silence.  In some ways, Grace wished
this evening had never happened.  When Alex was being pleasant
and charming, when they were surrounded by friends and enjoying
themselves, it was almost hard to remember that things hadn't
always been that way between them.  Tonight had been so close
to being everything Grace had hoped for, wished for, in a marriage.
 Except that it was years too late.

It made her irritable, despite the
nice night that she'd had.  

"Come on, Gracie," Alex said, holding
out his hand to help her out of the carriage.

"Can't you just call me
Grace?" she asked waspishly, only holding on to his fingers as long
as she had to.  As soon as her feet were firmly planted on
solid ground, she snatched her hand away, and felt slightly
mollified by the flash of irritation in his eyes.  

"If you wish," he said, his voice
carefully amiable. 

Which just made her want to poke at
him more.  After tonight, she truly believed that he wanted to
start over and pretend as if nothing in the past had happened.
 While that meant that he would forgive and forget her lovers,
she was finding it quite a bit harder to forgive and forget his
transgressions.  Perhaps because she had been ordered to,
rather than being allowed to make that decision on her own.
 Instead, she was just supposed to go along with what he
wanted. 

Even if he was acting like
a caring husband in public, in front of their friends, she was sure
that there must be some kind of nefarious reason underneath.
 She didn't put any credence in Eleanor's theory that he had
missed her.  Why would he?  He'd proven very early in
their marriage that any woman truly was as good as another.
 It was more likely that he just wanted to eradicate the
scandal of their marriage by resolving it and showing Society just
what a big, strong man he was.

After all, he'd not demanded his
marital rights.  He could have.  But he wasn't
interested.  As long as she behaved in public and didn't take
any lovers... but then how would he get his heir on
her? 

Maybe he thought she was
so lustful and amorous a woman that if he could keep her from
taking any lovers, she would eventually turn to him out of pure
need.  Grace snorted as she made her way up the stairs, doing
her best to ignore the looming presence of her husband as he
followed her.  While she had taken lovers, she hadn't had
nearly as many as he.  Besides, she'd learned to take care of
her own needs.  He could insist she sleep beside him and guard
her bed all he wanted, she would be perfectly fine remaining
abstinent. 

But would he be?

She supposed he might be able to find
another mistress, even if he was guarding his wife's bed every
evening.  It would just take some juggling of his time.
 Then again, he'd always been very busy, both with his estates
and with his business.  Perhaps he wouldn't have
time.

It bothered her that she
liked the idea of Alex being unable to indulge with a woman other
than herself.  Of course she took pleasure in the thought that
he'd been tormented by a man's need to spend his seed regularly,
but she also knew that it was more than that.  Some part of
her heart was soothed knowing that he would no longer be sharing
his body with other women.  Even after all these years and all
those other women.  Although, at least she'd had her own
pleasures looked after as well.  And if the bloody bastard did
find another mistress, after insisting on this reconciliation,
Grace would hop into the bed of the first man to cross her path.
But she’d go much farther than she had before. She’d tell the world
about it, she’d claim that Alex was an incompetent lover and that
that’s why she’d left him the first time. Some probably wouldn’t
believe her, and some women would know differently, but she could
always claim that he paid them to say that. She would make sure he
knew what it felt like to be utterly humiliated. The thought should
have made her feel triumphant with possible vengeance, but instead
she felt heartsick at the idea of him being with another
woman,
again
.
Sometimes she wished she could cut her heart out of her chest.
Useless organ that it was.

As usual, Grace's maid Rose was
waiting for her inside the bedroom.  While Grace had still not
forgiven the young woman for what felt like a great betrayal, she
was no longer so angry.  Rose had apologized on the trip, and
she'd seemed quite sincere in her guilt over having spied on Grace
for Alex.  Her mother had been sick and when he'd offered so
much extra money, as well as better lodging and the services of his
personal physician for her mother, Rose hadn't been able to refuse.
 It didn't mean that Grace would ever trust her maid again,
but she no longer felt tempted to throw the woman out of the room
either. 

Apparently Alex didn't
agree. 

"Thank you Rose, but your mistress
won't need you this evening," Alex said as he came in the room
behind Grace, already undoing the elaborate knot on his
cravat.

Immediately Grace turned around, her
eyes flashing.  "I absolutely need Rose, who else is going to
undo my corset?"

As soon as she asked the question, she
wished she'd held the words back.  The look that Alex gave her
was utterly rakish, as if his usual granite expression was just a
stone facade and it had just dropped to make way for the Alex she'd
started to fall in love with, years ago.  It took her breath
away.  But that was just a physical reaction, she reminded
herself, and it didn't have to mean anything.  

"That would be me," he murmured, his
voice filled with seductive intent as he tossed the cravat onto the
floor in front of his wardrobe.  He barely glanced at Rose as
she stood, frozen in place, eyes darting between the two of them as
she tried to decide who she should listen to.  "Out,
Rose."

The maid fled.  Something else
that angered Grace, even though she couldn't blame the servant for
her actions.  But now she was all alone with her husband.
 After that first night, on the trip here, she'd managed to
have Rose undress her so that she could be in bed before Alex even
returned to the room in the evenings.  He'd always gone down
to the taproom for a glass of port before retiring, and she'd used
that time to change into her nightgown, so that she could feign
sleep by the time he'd come back upstairs.  Then she'd wait
until he was up and gone in the mornings before she'd rise and
dress for the day.  Always with Rose's help.