Pride and Fire (14 page)

She shrugged. “He said he’d heard of your difficulties, and—”

“My difficulties?” he cut in. “What difficulties?”

“He intimated you were strapped for funds.”

Michelle’s words struck him in the gut. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

He let loose with a string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. Michelle placed her hands over her ears, her face pale with shock. Paul quickly shut his mouth. The weasel’s comments on his finances enraged him almost as much as his illicit offer to his wife. He took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to her. He’d never seen her so white.

“Michelle,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry I spoke like that before you.”

She stared up at him, her eyes huge.

“Love?” he asked softly, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Paul,” she whispered, still obviously shaken.

He hugged her to him, shaken with the effort to keep his anger in check. “I’ll never speak like that in front of you again.”

She shook her head in denial. “Your curses didn’t frighten me. But why did you get so angry? Do you think I would ever consider an arrangement?”

“No, Michelle. I know you belong to me as I belong to you.”

She looked up at him then, her brow furrowed over her damp eyes. “Was it the comment about your finances that angered you?”

He wouldn’t talk of money with her. Not today and not ever.

“No,” he answered, half in truth. “But the next time I see that bastard, I—”

She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her touch, her kiss, was like a balm. Even if she knew precisely the effect she wrought on him, he didn’t mind.

“Ah, wife,” Paul pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “You will turn my head with such actions.”

Michelle lowered her lashes and smiled shyly at him.

“Enough about the weasel Burns.” Paul slowly untied her chemise.

“Husband,” she said softly. “What are you about?”

He grinned and proceeded to show her.

* * * *

That evening, they decided to attend the parties. Betsy swept up her mistress’ red curls, leaving long tendrils to trail down her back and brush her shoulders. Michelle nodded her approval to the maid, who then assisted her into her evening gown before taking her leave.

Michelle was dressed in the lovely violet gown once more, pleased that Paul would finally see her in it. She had her jewelry brought from her mother’s house, and looked through the boxes as Paul came out of the dressing room.

“Nearly ready, love?” he asked, tying his cravat.

“Yes, I…”

She stopped speaking as she let her eyes drink in his appearance. He wore his black formal attire paired with a shirt of stark white, and the contrast seemed to make his eyes an even brighter blue.

“Paul, you look marvelous,” she said. “The ladies will swoon.”

He crossed to her, drawing her into his arms. “And what of you, wife? Will you swoon?”

“No,” she teased. “I’ll melt.”

He flashed her a dazzling smile and kissed her. Releasing her, he turned to take in the clutter on top of the vanity. “What’s all of this?”

“My jewelry,” she said absently, turning her attention back to the boxes.

Paul was quiet as he watched her open one box after another.

“Here it is!” she cried, opening one last box. “I thought I’d left it at Mother’s.”

In the box rested a necklace of amethysts, the purple stones glittering brightly. The gems were linked in a lacy pattern, and formed a semi-circle.

She lifted the necklace and held it gingerly in her hands. “Would you please fasten this for me?”

He nodded and fastened it around her neck. She turned to face him, watching an odd look cross his face.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, love.” He shook his head. “That necklace looks wonderful on you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, clipping on the matching earrings taken from the box.

She pulled on a pair of long satin gloves and turned to him, ready for their evening. He escorted her downstairs to the carriage and they were on their way.

When they stopped in front of the first party, a liveried attendant opened the carriage door and Paul alighted. He turned and assisted Michelle out of the carriage, stopping to run his gaze over her. He gently gripped her elbow in his gloved hand and escorted her inside.

“You will drive the men mad in this gown, wife,” he whispered, his head close to hers. “Remember, Michelle. You belong to me.”

Michelle nodded, pleased at the possessiveness in his words and in his tone. It made her feel special and wanted and loved because she knew that he belonged to her too. Smiling, she took his arm and followed him through the entrance.

They made their way into the crowd where the ball was well underway. After greeting their hostess, they soon found themselves surrounded by Paul’s friends. Catherine and Elizabeth were in attendance, and quickly monopolized Michelle’s attention. She looked at Paul as they all but dragged her away.

“I’ll join you in a few minutes, love,” he said.

She nodded and let the two younger girls lead her over to the row of chairs placed well away from the orchestra.

“You must tell us everything about married life, Michelle,” Elizabeth began. “You mustn’t leave anything out.”

“Yes,” Catherine added. “After all, we are sisters now.”

Michelle nodded, smiling at their enthusiasm and feeling a true part of a family. She happily shared a few anecdotes with Paul’s sisters, leaving the subject of the marriage bed well out of the conversation. The girls hung on her every word, plying her with questions about etiquette and formal outings with a husband in tow.

* * * *

Over on the other side of the room, Paul watched Michelle from his vantage point, pleased his sisters were so fond of her. He paid little attention to the conversation going on around him, however. When he’d seen Michelle’s jewelry collection, he was once again reminded of her fortune. He wanted to be the one to buy her such luxuries, but his finances wouldn’t permit such extravagance. She seemed to have everything. What could she possibly want from him?

A voice to the side broke through to him.

“Leed,” Roberts greeted Paul. “I’m surprised to see you out and about.”

Paul quirked a half-smile in the man’s direction. “I had to come up for air I suppose.”

Roberts laughed heartily and pounded him on the back. “Not for long, eh?”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Chester joined them then. “How is marriage treating you, Leed?”

“Leed’s quite done in, I fear,” Roberts answered for Paul.

Paul nudged the man with his shoulder, unable to keep a grin from his face. “Never mind.”

Lord Burns caught Paul’s attention then, where he stood in conversation with another gentleman across the room. Paul stiffened, his hands in fists at his sides.

“Leed, what is it?” Chester asked.

“That bastard Burns is here,” Paul answered.

“Burns?” Roberts asked. “Why would that little weasel bother you?”

“He propositioned my wife.”

“He what?” Chester asked.

Paul nodded, his eyes never leaving Burns. “He offered her an arrangement.”

Roberts let out a low whistle. “Either the man is foolish or he has a death wish.”

Chester nodded his agreement. “Why would he attempt such a thing?”

“He claims to have heard of my financial difficulties,” Paul said, lowering his voice.

“But that’s ridiculous,” Roberts said. “For one thing, you’re solvent.”

“And for another,” Chester said, “no one knows of your father’s problems.”

“Then, what?” Roberts puzzled aloud.

“Would he speak of my work?” Paul asked. “My clients never mention it in polite company.”

“And they will continue so if they want your gifted words coming out of their mouths,” Roberts said.

Paul nodded his thanks to his friend’s words. As they watched, Burns crossed the floor toward Michelle. She sat alone, Paul’s sisters apparently having deserted her to flit about the room while he’d been discussing Burns with Roberts and Chester. Paul made a move to go to the man.

Chester grabbed his arm to still him. “Wait. What, pray, are you going to do?”

Paul looked at his friends, the dark possibilities working their way through his mind. “It wouldn’t take much effort to wring the bastard’s scrawny neck.”

“Leed,” Roberts warned, “let Chester and me get to the bottom of this.”

After a long moment, Paul nodded. “With your charm, Roberts, and Chester’s brawn I believe the two of you can readily convince Burns to keep away from my wife. But I’ll accompany you.”

* * * *

“L-lady Michelle,” Burns bowed. “Or should I say, Lady L-leed.”

“Hello, Lord Burns,” Michelle answered, holding a chill in her voice.

He sat beside her, letting his leg brush against hers. She shifted in her seat, pulling away from him.

“You l-look radiant,” he intoned. “M-marriage must agree with you.”

She inclined her head in answer.

“And what of the m-marriage bed?” he whispered.

She gasped in answer, shocked at such a question. His sharp little eyes roamed over her, his gaze lingering on her bosom. He reached out and fingered the thick curl resting against her breast, letting his bony knuckles brush her skin.

“Don’t think to touch my wife,” Paul said, his voice a low rumble.

The thin man jumped to his feet. “L-leed, I…”

Paul was flanked by Roberts and Chester, their scowls nearly as dark as Paul’s. Michelle had never seen such a wall of masculine ire and almost felt sorry for the weasel.

“Gentlemen,” Burns began nervously, “I was simply t-telling Lady Leed—”

Chester threw his arm around the man’s narrow shoulders, freezing the words on his lips. “Roberts and I would like a word with you, Burns.”

Burns paled, his thin lips flapping as he tried once more to make a sound. As Lords Roberts and Chester led the weasel away, Michelle read the satisfaction on Paul’s face. When they were out of the ballroom, Paul sat down next to her and bent his head to hers.

“Did he proposition you again, Michelle?”

“No, not quite,” she said. “He asked about the marriage bed.”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Paul growled.

“Will your friends hurt him?”

He shrugged. “A bit, I suppose.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Good.”

An easy smile curved his mouth and he gave her a quick squeeze. He led her out onto the dance floor and her mind was fully occupied with how wonderful she felt in his arms.

Chapter 14

Paul and Michelle soon fell into a pleasant routine over the next fortnight. Mornings he took her riding in Hyde Park, making a few calls on their way back to the townhouse. Afterwards she often went to her mother’s. Lady Helen enjoyed receiving callers with her lovely married daughter, as she told them time and again. And with Michelle safely out of the house, Paul used the afternoon hours to work on his speeches without discovery.

Their evenings were their own, however. They shared dinners in blessed solitude, with only each other’s company. They also had some spirited disagreements at the table. During one discussion two weeks after they wed, Michelle pointed out Paul’s “misconceptions” as she saw them.

“Husband,” she said, setting her napkin aside. “You cannot seriously consider the Chancery effective?”

She referred to the Chancery Court, Paul knew, which dispensed the law of equity. It was originally designed to assist those who couldn’t get justice in the common law system, but was beginning to seem antiquated, time-consuming and absurd.

“Love,” Paul began, “the Chancery acts swiftly in certain matters.”

“Swiftly? What of the cases that last twenty years before resolution? You cannot tell me that’s swift justice.”

“That was but one case.”

She snorted. “One case too many, I’d say.”

“Michelle, if you take into consideration the court can only question—”

“The court cannot even question the parties involved, for God’s sake!”

They argued back and forth, and Paul was surprised to find he enjoyed every moment. His wife had a sharp mind and strong opinions and Lord, how she pleased him. He finally sat back, his arms crossed over his chest.

She regarded him closely before folding her hands in front of her. She smiled sweetly. “Shall we put the matter aside, husband?”

He arched a brow at her, knowing full well what she was about. She dropped her gaze to the tabletop.

“Michelle?” he said in a low voice.

“Yes?”

“I see your point.”

Michelle picked her head up and grinned. Each discussion ended the same way, with his acknowledging her right to her opinion.

“Ah, Michelle,” he said as they climbed the stairs to their chamber much later. “I do so enjoy our debates.”

“Yes, Paul,” she allowed. “And sometimes your arguments make sense.”

He let her win that one.

* * * *

Much later, in the quiet of their sleeping chamber, Michelle awoke with a start. She reached for Paul, but found his side of the big bed empty. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Paul?” she whispered, looking around the room.

Getting no answer, she began to worry. Was he ill? She got out of bed and donned her wrapper. She padded across the room to the door and opened it quietly. Taking a lit candle with her, she walked down the hallway toward the stairs. She crept down the staircase and searched the parlor. Where was he? She turned to the stairs to return to their chamber. Then she saw the flicker of light coming from beneath the door to Paul’s study. She raised her hand to knock on the wood panel and stopped herself. Perhaps he was still worrying over his ledgers. He spent a lot of time shut in his study lately. More than once he’d been in there when she’d returned from her mother’s house.

Tomorrow would be soon enough for questions. She went back upstairs, doused the candle and crawled back into bed, asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Two hours later, Paul wearily climbed the stairs. He’d worked hard on one speech in particular, one the speaker needed by tomorrow. While pleased with the way he expressed the speaker’s point of view, he hadn’t enjoyed working in the middle of the night. He grabbed the banister, his fingers trailing over the scarred surface. His home needed more than redecorating, and the payment from tonight’s effort would certainly help make his house more presentable.