Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] (18 page)

Chapter Ten

Pax leaned against a marble pillar at the edge of the dance floor. Despite the casualness of his pose, all his senses were tightly concentrated on the beautiful woman in the apricot satin gown. The color of the dress brought out the rich highlights of the chestnut curls piled upon the proudly held head. The delicate white flowers woven in her hair, looked like lightly fallen snow, he thought lyrically.

Everyday Leslie grew more beautiful, radiance shining around her as she became more comfortable with her new role. Times like this when he watched her, he was always amazed that he had ever taken her for a boy. Her every movement was graceful and her body was entirely feminine with a high bosom, tiny waist and softly curved hips. Her skin had a golden sheen, white teeth flashing in smiles that left most men breathless.

Leslie was always surrounded by a bevy of men. At first Pax thought that her acceptance was based on his rank in society. It was with pleasure that he realized the girl had won her admirers by her own rare qualities. Raised as a boy she had a keen interest in the men's pursuits and was never missish when they became carried away with their enthusiasm. She listened attentively, asking knowledgeable questions to show her interest. There was nothing of the hoyden about her behavior; she accepted the restrictions of society with an inborn ease.

At first the women withheld their friendship. Some were jealous of her beauty; others were outraged at the scandal. However in the two months that Leslie had been in London, she had conducted herself so modestly that even the starchiest of tabbies smiled graciously when she entered the room. Leslie herself was more comfortable now with the feminine talk and once again displayed a rare gift for listening. Pax had noticed that she tended to gravitate to the women who had something interesting to talk about rather than the flock of fluttering debs whose conversation was dotted with fashion and scandalous
on-dits.

Suddenly Pax's eyes widened as his mind was pierced with an incredible perception. He had fallen in love with his own wife. It was impossible, incongruous, bewildering and utterly fantastic. But with a sinking feeling in the core of his being Pax knew it was true. He was definitely in love with Leslie.

Although his body looked relaxed as he leaned against the cold marble, his muscles were tightly coiled. His eyes followed the graceful figure of his wife as she wove in and out of the pattern of the country dance. The expression on his face was the usual one of supreme boredom but his eyes burned with the concentration of his gaze. As Leslie dipped into a deep curtsy and gave a twinkling smile to her partner, the ever-present Captain Fitzhue, Pax turned away from the sight.

"Offhand, nevvie, I'd say you've made a sad mull of things."

Pax glowered down at his caftan-bedecked aunt and opened his mouth to snap at the woman. Instead his mouth widened in a self-deprecating grin as he extended his arm to her. He led her out of the ballroom to a quiet anteroom where the plump little woman sank gratefully onto the sofa. Still wordless he wandered around the room, restlessly touching various ornaments, his eyes unseeing as his fingers fondled the ceramic figurines. Then he leaned his shoulders against the mantel and faced his aunt.

"How did you know?" he asked, more out of curiosity than real need.

Nell did not pretend to misunderstand his question. She smiled up at him, her brown eyes warm with kindness. "You loved the boy, Pax. I was sure that you would come to love the woman."

There was silence in the room. When Pax spoke his deep voice was softly contemplative, the words coming slowly as though flowing directly from his heart. "It was as though my eyes were suddenly open and I was really looking at Leslie. I realized that I really wanted her for my wife. For the last three months I have been treating her like a child. I was angry because I was forced to marry the girl when I thought I wanted a more sophisticated partner. I felt foolish that she was able to deceive me. And most of all I was furious because my emotions were in such a conflict."

"Yes. The fury was very apparent." Nell laughed remembering all the skirmishes between the married couple. "But you were helpful to Leslie and I thought that meant there was hope to regularize the relationship. You always seemed to treat her the most outrageously when she needed to be buoyed up. You were positively hateful on the night of her first ball."

"Does she hate me?"

Nell was amazed that her normally arrogant nephew should be so lacking in self-confidence that he could ask such a question. Love is like that for some, she thought. Men, who have only played and laughed at love, find they cannot trust their own instincts. The stupid creatures invariably turn into quivering cowards at the thought of rejection. It's a wonder, Nell thought in bemusement, that the entire human race hasn't just died out for all the understanding there was between men and women.

"No, Pax, she doesn't hate you. My guess is that right now Leslie doesn't know how she feels about you." Nell mentally apologized to the girl for hedging the truth a bit. However she didn't plan to make her nephew's path too easy. A good marriage required hard work so he might as well get used to expending a deal of energy.

"I'll talk to her tonight," Pax said resolutely.

Leslie crossed to a shadowed corner of the terrace waiting for Fitz to return with a cool glass of punch. The late spring evening caressed her flushed cheeks as she stared pensively out over the garden grateful for a respite from the dancing. Lanterns twinkled on the pathways and her eye caught a flash of color as a strolling couple swayed together for a quick embrace. As a light tinkling laugh floated across to her, her joy in the lovely evening filtered away. Sinking down on a nearby stone bench she blinked rapidly as tears gathered in her eyes.

What a sham her life had become. By night she glittered in a world of social gaiety as artificial as it was brilliant. But after the balls, musicales and ridottos, she returned to her real life which was empty of all meaning. If only Pax could love her.

Since their disastrous wedding night, Pax had not approached her, nor had he indicated that he wished to regularize their relationship. Except for an occasional ride in the park she and her husband were never alone. He squired her to parties but except for an occasional dance he abandoned her for the lure of the card room. She was a married woman yet she might as well have remained a spinster.

She looked at other people and realized there was much more to a marriage than the part she had been privy to. In the better matches, the couples shared looks and touches that indicated the warmth of their relationships. But she and Pax seemed to have reached an impasse and Leslie had no idea how to bridge the gap to a full sharing of the marital state. She knew he didn't love her but she would accept what regard he could have for her. She wanted children for, then at least, her life would have some purpose.

Pax loved children. According to Aunt Nell, he had always regretted that he did not have brothers and sisters. Leslie had seen for herself how well he responded to the tenants' children. He was not stiff or formal and was able to listen patiently while they talked and scampered around him. She remembered how good he had been to her when she came to Windhaven. She was a child then and he had walked with her, read to her and was happy to be in her company. He would make a wonderful father. And if they had a child of their own, perhaps she and Pax could begin a lasting relationship. He was bound to love the baby, and then he might even grow to love her too.

"Sorry, I took so long," Fitz's voice brought Leslie's thoughts abruptly back to the present. "Ran into Paul Hills and he went on and on about his latest dueling injury. Ball went smack through his leg. Thought he was going to roll down his stocking to show me the scar."

Leslie giggled as she accepted the glass of punch. Her friend could always be counted on to bring her out of the doldrums. "What was this important matter of honor that had to be settled so violently?"

Fitz leaned against the stone balustrade facing Leslie and grinned boyishly down at her. "Now, now, my girl. One cannot take these affairs so lightly. It seems Kampford and Flinn had insulted his new waistcoat. Said he looked like a performer at Astley's."

"Don't tell me he fought them both?"

"Spot on, young Leslie. Unscathed from the first but a wounded calf in the second," Fitz finished dramatically. He joined Leslie's gusty laughter. Then more soberly, "I thought I ought to tell you that I'll be leaving soon for Vienna."

Leslie smiled up into Fitzhue's face, words unnecessary between the two friends. "Letter from Rosalind?"

"Just today. I can't wait for you to meet her. I know you two will get on," Fitz said his voice rich with enthusiasm. "By the way, thanks for today. I know she'll love the bracelet. I appreciate your helping me pick it out."

"It was great fun trying on all those jewels especially while that Friday-faced Cecily Cleavon looked down her nose at us."

"Rum luck running into that one. It almost spoiled the day. I wish someone would marry her and then they might turn her up sweet."

Leslie sighed thinking back to the embittered expression on Cecily's face. "Sometimes I can almost feel sorry for her. She was positive that Pax was going to marry her. If I thought she had loved him instead of his money I would genuinely pity the woman."

"Save your pity for them that needs it. The woman's a troublemaker. Traffics in gossip and character assassination," Fitz remarked harshly. He reached down to take Leslie's empty glass, placing it on the stone railing. Then returning to his favorite subject, he continued, "Rosalind says her father is close to relenting. She's refused all social engagements and has told him she will remain a spinster if he continues to object to our engagement. The old boy may be tough but against Rosalind I wouldn't bet a tuppance on his chances to hold out."

"How wonderful it must be to be that sure of your love," Leslie blurted out before she could help herself. She raised her hand as though she would pull back her words.

"You might as well tell me about it, my dear," Fitz ventured softly. He sat down beside Leslie reaching out to capture her hands. He stared down at them uncertainly then proceeded to pat them much like his method of soothing a distraught child. "I've known for a long time that all was not well between you and Pax."

"It's all my fault, Fitz. I've done everything wrong!"

Once Leslie began to talk, she spoke without reservation or justification. She told him everything: her masquerade as a boy, the night in the gazebo and the discovery of her identity and subsequent forced marriage. The only information that she withheld was the aborted wedding night.

Fitz had already heard much of her story in a much-colored account via the gossip mill. He realized the innocence that had prompted her gypsy disguise and understood the pain when she discovered the depth of her love for Pax. With new insight he thought back over all the times that he had seen Leslie and Pax together. But where Leslie spoke of Pax's disinterest in her, Fitz remembered the glowering looks when others approached his wife. So much of Pax's behavior was explained by Leslie's heartrending confession. Fitz suspected Pax was nursing a case of injured pride. Very few women had scorned the worthy Duke of Ruhaven. Smiling inwardly he wondered if Pax even realized he was probably in love with his own wife.

"And I'm making him so miserable that all I can think of is to run away. Take myself totally out of his life," Leslie finished miserably.

"Don't be a widgeon, Leslie," Fitz said briskly. "Now sit up and dry your eyes."

Leslie blew her nose in the proffered white handkerchief, then dabbed at her eyes. Despite her misery she felt better for having shared her thoughts with Fitz. What a good friend he was.

"Now, my girl, do you trust me?"

"You know I do, Fitz," Leslie answered sniffing damply.

"Your love for Pax will win the day. Believe me, Leslie. If it's strong enough and you're willing to be patient."

"My heart is totally given." Leslie's answer though dramatic was sincere.

"Then promise me you will only consider running away as a last resort."

"I promise," Leslie answered solemnly.

"Everything looks bleak right now but things have a way of working out. All it takes is a little time. In the end, Pax will be reasonable." Fitz put his arms around Leslie hugging her to reassure her of the fact.

Pax stepped back into the shadows of the garden, his black clothes blending easily in the darkness. His forehead was bunched in deep wrinkles, his eyes unseeing as his feet trod the pathways. He was filled with a murderous rage that swelled within him, pounding at his temples. He marched angrily around the garden until he could once more think clearly. His eyes were cold as his mind considered the situation.

He had seen Leslie's face, glowing with love and hope, just before Fitzhue smothered her in an embrace. In his ears rang her words, "My heart is totally given."

Ignoring the pain that threatened to consume him, Pax clung to his anger. How dare his wife conduct some sort of tawdry affair! Granted he had not wanted to be married but he had warned her that she must conduct herself with all the discretion that befitted his rank. And Fitz! Cuckolded by his own friend! By God, he would kill the man!

"In the end, I'll be reasonable! Hah!" Pax snarled at the stupidity of Leslie's lover. His eyes narrowed as he imagined the scene after the ball when he accused his charming wife of her infidelity.

"After too many late night squeezes, my child," Nell proclaimed, stifling a yawn behind her gloved hand, "I begin to feel the weight of my years. Tonight I will be delighted to seek my bed."

"Gammon!" Leslie said staunchly helping the older woman down the long flight of stairs to the foyer. "Most days I find it impossible to keep up with you."

The two women smiled in great charity with each other as attendants scurried to assist them with their wraps. The front doors burst open and in a swirl of triple capes, Pax ushered the women out to the waiting carriage. Leslie chatted happily with Nell as the horses plodded softly through the night streets. It was several minutes before she was aware of Pax's glowering silence. His face was grim, mouth pulled tightly above tensed jaw. His eyes snapped angrily but he held himself in check. In puzzlement Leslie's eyes sought Nell's hoping for some enlightenment from the older woman. The slight headshake and shrug told Leslie that Nell was just as mystified by her nephew's behavior. Wordlessly the granite-jawed man assisted them into the house. Without a glance or a word Pax flung his coat at the waiting footman and strode down the hall to the library. The slammed door reverberated in the silent foyer.