Mutual Consent (18 page)

Babs began to recover. Her paramount thought was that she had taken such pains over her appearance so that she could do credit to the earl and the effort had been wasted. “I see. Thank you, Smithers,” she said in a low, humiliated tone.

The butler cleared his throat deliberately.”My lady, shall I bring coffee to the sitting room?”

Babs looked at the butler. The delicate rose had been driven from her cheeks, but suddenly high color transformed her face. Her green eyes flashing, she said, “I think not, Smithers. Pray call me a carriage instead.”

The butler regarded her for a moment in openmouthed astonishment. “But my lady—”

Babs leveled a cold stare on him. “I am attending the soiree this evening, Smithers.”

The butler was left with nothing to say. He bowed and did as he was bid. After he had relayed her ladyship’s request, he cast a curious glance toward her as she stood waiting, impatiently tapping a foot against the floor. As soon as the carriage came around to the front, he escorted his mistress into it and spoke to the driver. As it drove away, he gave an uncharacteristic shake of his head. He had been astonished by the blaze of sheer temper in the countess’s eyes. He would wager that there would be a rare kickup when her ladyship finally tracked down the errant earl.

Babs was still quite angry when she entered the ballroom. She had been a fool to trust in the earl’s careless pledge that he would introduce her to a few of his acquaintances so that she might begin carving out her own niche in society. She saw quite clearly that he was an entirely selfish creature, and one thoroughly used to catering only to his own wishes. The fact of their marriage apparently did not lay a particle of responsibility upon the earl’s shoulders or appeal to his sense of common courtesy.

Very well, then, thought Babs in a fury. She would make her own way. She had been included in the invitation and she knew that it was not uncommon for a married woman to attend social functions without an escort in evidence.

Her reasonings enabled her to greet her hostess with a reasonable command of herself. But when she turned and saw the sea of mostly unknown faces, several of whom had taken note of her lone entrance with obvious curiosity, Babs felt herself begin to shrink inside. It was one thing to decide to launch oneself into society, but it was quite another to actually do so with grace and fortitude.

As Babs hesitated in the entrance to the ballroom, she made a striking picture. She stood seemingly glancing coolly over the company, all fiery gold from her head to her dress.

One gentleman nudged another. “Gad! Who is the beauty?”

His companion looked around and then stared harder. “Why, I believe that is the new Countess of Chatworth. I haven’t had but a glimpse of her previously. She has not been seen much in society. His lordship apparently keeps a close watch upon her, from what I understand.”

“That I can perfectly understand. She is a regular dasher,” said the first gentleman. Without taking his eyes off the Countess of Chatworth, he said, “Introduce me, cousin, I beg of you.”

“I have not had the pleasure myself, actually,” said the second gentleman. “However, I am certain that we must be able to find someone about who might perform the office for us.” The gentlemen asked about them of several acquaintances whether the Countess of Chatworth was known to them, and finally they encountered their hostess. She was amused by the urgent request.

“Certainly I shall do so, sirs. I should not wish my guests to remember my little party with anything but the fondest thoughts,” she said, and swept them with her toward their object.

Babs was startled to hear her name. She was more startled still when her hostess introduced the gentlemen to her. She smiled tentatively and gave her hand for a brief moment to each. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.’’

The gentlemen observed at once that the countess appeared somewhat ill-at-ease and instantly set about to make themselves agreeable. Others noticed the trio and drifted up to pay their respects. It was not long before Babs found herself the center of a circle of admiring men. She was unused to such attention, but certainly it was pleasant enough.

She had actually begun to enjoy herself when she at last caught sight of the Earl of Chatworth. He was sitting in an adjoining room at a card table. Standing close to him, with a hand laid possessively upon his shoulder, was a very beautiful woman. The woman was laughing down into the earl’s face at something he had said, and as Babs watched, she lightly drew her fan down the earl’s jaw in a gesture of obvious intimacy.

The countess drew in her breath, quite unconscious that she did so. Her escort of the moment was not so unobservant, and he looked quickly to see what had drawn her attention. He smiled slightly as he took in the charming tableau. “Lady Cartier is in extraordinarily fine looks this evening,” he commented.

Babs looks up swiftly at her escort’s face. “What did you say, my lord?”

“Why, I was speaking about Lady Beth Cartier. Are you not acquainted with her, my lady?” asked the gentleman blandly, well aware that he tread where he should not, but curious to hear what the countess might betray.

Babs gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “There are so many with whom I am not yet acquainted, sir,” she said unsteadily. She hoped that she gave every appearance of calm, but inside, her feelings were in turmoil. She had no claim on the earl. Their agreement specifically forbade any such claims. But it was hard to reconcile her conception of marriage with the strange and impersonal role that she and the earl had assigned to it.

She requested that her escort show her the fountains. “I have caught but a glimpse of them, but they appeared quite pretty,” she said.

Her escort was not unwilling. He rather thought he might enjoy getting the countess off by herself. If he read her reaction to the sight of the Earl of Chatworth and his lordship’s mistress correctly, her ladyship was ripe for indiscretion. “Of course, my lady,” he said, and walked with her outside onto the balcony overlooking the gardens.

As they paused and slowly moved from one vantage point to another, he maneuvered her ever nearer a secluded corner in the shadows. Before Babs knew what the gentleman was about, he had caught her up into a tight embrace.

She stood for a few seconds, quite shocked, before she tore her mouth from under his.”Sir! Unhand me this instant, I pray you!” But his only answer was a low laugh as he tightened his arms about her.

One of the players at the card table waited until Lady Cartier had drifted off before he directed the earl’s attention. “It is not for me to tell you your business, my lord. However, I think it might interest you to observe that your wife is gone off with Ivonhope.”

The Earl of Chatworth turned in time to see what was definitely his wife borne off upon the arm of one whom he had no hesitation in labeling a courtcard and a libertine. A singularly dangerous light kindled in his hard eyes. “Has she, by God!” He thereupon extricated himself from the card game and went in search of his wife.

The brandy he had consumed in quantity made his thoughts somewhat groping. He had no idea why his wife was even there. He seemed to recall something now about escorting her that evening to the soiree, but certainly she should not be there, since he had not done so.

The earl paused, at a momentary loss. He scanned the company but did not see his wife with her escort. Then he caught a glimpse of movement on the balcony outside the French doors.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion and he strode through one of the open doors. He swept the balcony with a hard glance and was about to return inside when in the deepest shadows he perceived a couple who were to all appearances making passionate love.

With unprecedented outrage he realized that the lady was his wife. The earl stepped forward. He took hold of the gentleman’s shoulder and propelled him backward into the wall. He saw his wife’s upturned face, how her expression changed swiftly from relief to bewilderment to fear. Lord Chatworth swung around on the gentleman. “Leave us!”

The gentleman rubbed his shoulder, which had come into bone-jarring contact with the stone. He bowed, quite willing to do as he was ordered, and quietly faded away. He could scarcely believe that the Earl of Chatworth, a renowned rake, should act the jealous husband so convincingly.

Lord Chatworth turned once again to his wife. She had straightened from her frightened posture and faced him with a hint of defiance in her face. “Well, madam?” he asked in freezing accents.

“Thank you for your timely intervention, my lord,” Babs said in an unsteady voice. She was acutely aware of his lordship’s anger. It was patent in his stance and in his menacing expression. She did not understand why he should be so angry, but that was hardly important. Gentlemen were apparently often subject to unreasonable and ungovernable rages.

The earl stared at her. He gave a short bark of laughter. “That’s rich, by God. I’ve caught you in another man’s arms and you have the temerity to stand there cool as you please and pretend all innocence.”

Babs was aghast that he should suspect her of dallying. “But I am innocent! I never encouraged such unwelcome attentions.”

The earl reached out to take her elbow in ungentle fingers. “We are going home, my dear wife. I think this evening has seen dissipation enough on your side.” He strode into the ballroom, never easing up in his grip on her elbow.

Babs had no choice but to accompany him. She had to hurry to keep up with his long strides and she was humiliatingly aware that their swift passage across the dance floor was causing some comment. But the earl seemed oblivious of the scene that they were causing as he hustled her up to their hostess to take leave of her. After the barest civilities on his part, he escorted Babs outside and called harshly for his carriage to be brought up. He sent an abrupt message of dismissal to the driver of the carriage that Babs had arrived in.

Babs stood beside the stranger who was her husband. He had not let go her arm for even a moment, and his grip remained inexorable. His silence and his tight stance conveyed most graphically that he was furious. She shuddered at the inevitable pictures that such rage made appear in her mind’s eye. Her heart hammered in her throat. She felt trapped, but there was no escape from the pitiless gentleman standing beside her.

She ducked into the carriage and moved as far as she could away from him. He settled onto the seat and signaled by a sharp rap on the ceiling for the driver to start up. Once they were well on their way, the earl turned his head to her. “I have yet to hear an explanation of your shameless conduct, my lady.”

“It is as I have already told you, my lord. I scarcely knew what the gentleman was about before he—”

The earl gave a sharp crack of laughter. “C’mon! You must do better than that, my lady. I do not easily set aside the evidence of my own eyes. The two of you were twined together like well-rehearsed lovers. I should not be surprised to be handed a bastard in a few months’ time.”

Babs drew in her breath sharply at the crudity. “You are mistaken in me, my lord,” she said, her voice cold. “But I see that it is of no use attempting to persuade you of my innocence.” She resolutely turned her eyes to the window and the passing of the streetlamps.

“What the devil were you doing there in the first place?” demanded the earl. “You had no business making an appearance without proper escort.”

Babs was at last truly angered. “How dare you?” she breathed, turning back toward him. Her voice gathered in strength, though it trembled. “Should I have gone tamely up to my sitting room because you chose not to escort me, after all? I am not so puling, my lord. After all, our agreement was to allow each of us the liberty of pursuing our own pleasures. And I chose to attend the soiree, even unescorted as I indisputably was.”

Lord Chatworth was made unreasonably furious by her criticism of him as well as by her defiance. “We shall talk of how far this agreement may carry you, madam,” he said, his voice menacing. “For I will tell you to your head, I shall not have my wife making a spectacle and a scandal of herself.”

“Oh, I do not intend to make of myself a byword, my lord. But neither shall I stay immured in my rooms for the rest of my natural life,” said Babs.

“Madam, I warn you. I have no intention of being made a cuckold,” said the earl.

“But that is precisely what you did agree to before we married, my lord,” she said, carried away equally by her anger and the sting of his unjust position. It was acceptable for him to keep a mistress and consort with all manner of lewd company, but she was not even to be allowed out of the house. “Do you not recall it, my lord? You agreed to receive my bastard as your own heir.”

There was complete silence from the earl’s end of the carriage. But Babs could hear the harshness of his breathing, and his fury seemed to crackle about the interior of the carriage.

The carriage was slowing. “We have arrived home, my lady. I do not want to further this argument in front of the servants,’’ came the earl’s cold voice. “But rest assured that I intend to finish this discussion in the privacy of the drawing room.” There was soft menace in his voice.

Barbara felt her anger dry and shrivel away. It was just as though her father sat opposite her, black and dangerous, the ripe rage exuding from him. She started to tremble then and could not stop.

The earl got out of the carriage first. He handed Barbara down and, without letting go of her arm, silently led her up the steps and into the house. Her panic intensified. She felt herself suffocating and trapped.

In the entry hall, the earl let go of her so that he could give the footman his hat and gloves. Instinctively Babs bolted. Lifting her skirts, she ran like one pursued up the stairs.

Lord Chatworth was left standing, feeling every inch the fool in front of his wooden-faced servants. He watched his wife’s precipitate flight with a hard expression in his eyes. When he had heard the distinct crash of a bedroom door, he swung around on his heel and strode to his study. “Brandy,” he threw over his shoulder at the expressionless footman.