Sally MacKenzie Bundle (32 page)

“No, but I’m not surprised. I expect he’ll stay away from society functions until his face heals.” Robbie pulled off his cravat. “I just don’t want him bothering Lizzie.”

Collins helped him out of his coat. “Surely the man won’t trouble the new Lady Westbrooke.”

“I sincerely hope he will not, but he didn’t have a shred of compunction about troubling her before. The Duke of Alvord is not someone most men would want as an enemy.”

Collins shrugged. “Ah, but now Lady Elizabeth is your wife, my lord.” He grinned again. “I know you’ll keep a very close eye on her.” He winked.

Robbie gritted his teeth. If Collins didn’t leave soon, he was going to plant his fist in the middle of that knowing grin.

It wasn’t Collins’s fault. The man was newly married himself and obviously enjoying every moment of his wedded bliss. He merely anticipated the same joys for Robbie.

“That will be all for tonight, Collins.”

Could the man’s grin get any wider?

“Have a very”—Collins looked at the door to the countess’s room again—“pleasant night, my lord.”

Robbie let out a long breath the moment his valet left.

He looked at the connecting door. Lizzie was on the other side. She was probably in bed, dressed in her nightgown. Was it the high-necked virginal gown she’d had at Tynweith’s house party or something new, something diaphanous? Mmm. Something that skimmed her lovely breasts and floated over the blond curls at the apex of her thighs, something he could slide slowly up her beautiful body….

Was she waiting for him? Surely she had taken his hint? But what if she expected him to come to her?

She was in a strange room in a strange household. She had suffered through Lord Andrew’s attack, the resulting scandal, and then that hurried wedding. Her emotions must be disordered. He should go to her. Talk to her.

Kiss her.

Part of him leapt at the thought.

He put his hand on the door.

He wanted to give her many kisses, too many to count. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, to kneel between her thighs, to….

Right. And when he was there, ready to enter her, what would happen? This enthusiastic part of him that was almost bursting from his pantaloons would wilt like the shy little flower it was.

Then would Lizzie laugh at him as Fleur had? Or would she pity him? Which was worse?

God, they were both awful. Better to go to his study and get roaring drunk.

Chapter Eighteen

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you, Fel. I’m quite aware of the fact. I feel terrible, too.”

“I’ve not seen you at any parties recently.”

“Do you think I want to advertise the fact Westbrooke rearranged my face for me?”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Felicity leaned back against the tree trunk. Lord Palmerson had an exceptionally large, dark garden. Some very interesting activities could be conducted in complete privacy here. She studied Andrew in the dim light. His face might be an unpleasant rainbow of bruises but the other portions of his anatomy appeared to be completely functional. She reached for the fall of his pantaloons.

He moved his hips back.

“Shy, Andrew?”

“No. I merely am not in the mood to be distracted. Aren’t you angry at the way things turned out? Trapping Westbrooke and compromising Lady Elizabeth were your ideas, after all.”

Felicity shrugged. “I’m not happy, of course, but what can I do? Westbrooke’s married.”

“Ah, but perhaps not happily. I’d swear something is wrong between Westbrooke and his wife.”

“How do you know? You’ve been playing least in sight ever since we got back to London.”

Andrew snorted—and winced. “As you say, my face is not a thing of beauty at the moment. But I have my spies. You’ve seen Westbrooke and Lady Elizabeth, too, Fel. They are not together much, are they?”

“Well, no, but it is not good
ton
for husbands and wives to live in each other’s pockets.”

“But newlyweds, Fel? They’ve only been married two weeks. And the few times they are together, they aren’t. Surely you’ve noticed how far apart they stand and how carefully they don’t look at each other? Quite a contrast to the longing glances they used to litter
ton
gatherings with.”

Andrew had a point. She’d been busy looking for another matrimonial quarry, so hadn’t been studying Westbrooke any longer. Now that she thought on it…Yes, she had noticed a certain distance between them. A certain chill. And Lady Elizabeth…

“You’re right. The new Lady Westbrooke looks like she hasn’t had a good swiving.”

“Exactly. Something is keeping Westbrooke out of her bed.”

“Interesting.” Felicity grinned. She’d certainly like to make that couple’s lives miserable if she could. “What do you suggest?”

“Rumors usually work well. See that the new Lady Westbrooke hears some juicy gossip about Westbrooke’s sexual exploits.”

“He doesn’t have any sexual exploits, Andrew—at least none I’ve been able to discern. The man is either incredibly discreet or a eunuch.”

Andrew had a fleeting look of disgust on his battered face that quickly turned into a grimace. “They don’t have to be
true
, Felicity. Innuendo often works best. Vague whisperings that can’t be confirmed or denied. Little drops of verbal acid that eat away at lovely Lady Westbrooke’s confidence. We want her to feel unease, to worry, to doubt. Then her imagination will take over, and we can sit back and enjoy the farce.”

“Perhaps she’ll turn to you for comfort?”

Andrew snorted and winced again. “Bloody little hope of that—but I do know some delightfully devious men who look like angels, but most certainly aren’t. They would be happy to cuckold Westbrooke.”

“Ooo, do I know them?”

“I’m certain you do, but they don’t play with unmarried ladies.”

“Ah. Another compelling reason to get a husband.” Felicity leaned forward and put her hand on Andrew’s fall again. This time he flinched, but did not pull back. She smiled and stroked him. A lovely hard ridge grew under her hand.

“I’ll be delighted to go back to the party and drop a few hints,” she said, “but first…Well, I’d hate to waste the convenient darkness, wouldn’t you?”

“Something is wrong between Lizzie and Westbrooke, Billy.”

Lady Beatrice lay in bed and surveyed her butler. After all these years, he still made her heart beat faster. She frowned.

“I shouldn’t let you into my bed, you know, until you promise to make an honest woman of me.”

Alton sighed. “Bea, we have been through this almost every day since you seduced me in the Knightsdale attic. I cannot marry you.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You would if you weren’t so pigheaded. I am not of your class—I’m just about as far from your class as possible. You are the sister and aunt of a marquis—I’m the bastard of a whore and who knows what? A sailor at best. Furthermore, I am your butler. Society would be scandalized.”

“Oh, pshaw! Society is a bunch of totty-headed, stiff-rumped fools. They can go to the devil.”

“Bea, it is easy for you to say that now, but wait until the first door is slammed in your face. You’ll feel differently then.”

Bea sat up with that. “How dare you tell me how I will feel? You’re more of a stickler than any of the patronesses of Almack’s. I don’t give the snap of my fingers for such stuff. I only go to the routs and balls because I’m bored.” She stretched out her arms to him. “Say yes, Billy. We can go to the Continent until the worst of the fuss dies down.” She grinned. “We may as well add to the gossip orgy Tynweith’s party has provided.”

Alton scooped Queen Bess off his pillow. She meowed her usual protest and stalked over to her own bed.

“I don’t believe her highness wishes us to marry.”

“Nonsense.” Bea wrapped her arms around his neck. “She loves you—and you love her. She looked very well fed when I got home from Lendal Park.”

Alton grunted. “Cook has a soft spot for the creature.”

Bea chuckled. “Cook says the same thing about you.” She nuzzled his neck. “Did you miss me?”

“You know that I did. I have already shown you—many times.”

“Show me again.”

Alton was an extremely accomplished lover. He had been good when he was a young man and he’d only gotten better over the years. He knew exactly what she liked, knew just how to tease her until she was wild for him.

Well, and she knew what he liked, too. She ran her tongue over an exquisitely sensitive part of his anatomy and smiled when she heard his quick intake of breath.

Afterward, she rested her head on his chest and returned to her original concern.

“Billy, there is something wrong between Lizzie and Westbrooke.”

“So you said. They are newly married, Bea. It will take them a while to settle into life together.”

“No, it’s more than that. Lizzie still has the look of a virgin about her.”

“Bea! You are being fanciful. How can Lady Westbrooke still be a virgin?”

“I don’t know, but I mean to find out.”

“You can’t meddle in their affairs.”

“I certainly can. And so can you.”

“What?!” Alton stiffened.

“Yes. You must talk to Lord Westbrooke.”

“He is not going to talk to the butler, especially about personal matters.”

“You were a spy during the war with Napoleon. You can gain his confidence.”

“Spying was different—”

“It was not. You were getting information for a good cause. This is a good cause, too. You’ll be helping continue Westbrooke’s line and make two young people happy.”

“Bea—”

“Please, Billy? We will invite them for an intimate dinner. You will get Westbrooke drunk. Then he will confide in you.”

“He won’t.”

“He will.” Bea shook Alton’s arm. “He looks desperate to me. He needs the advice of a man of your experience.”

“I don’t think—”

“And I will not be idle. I will see what I can learn from Lizzie. Together, I’m certain we can solve this problem.”

“We can’t—”

“We
can.
We must. Please?”

Billy had never been able to say no when she used that particular note of need in her voice. She was not surprised when he sighed heavily.

“Oh, very well.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

She proceeded to thank him
very
thoroughly indeed.

“Thank you for escorting me to Lady Beatrice’s dinner party, Robbie.” Lizzie sat, hands folded, on one side of the carriage. Robbie occupied the other.

“You are my wife, Lizzie. If you want something, you need only ask.”

I want you in my bed.
Lizzie pressed her lips tightly together. She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? No. Robbie was still in his seat. If she’d spoken, he would have leapt from the moving coach.

They’d been married almost a month, and still he had not visited her room. He’d stopped attending most social events with her. She was surprised he’d agreed to come tonight, though Lady Bea’s invitation had quite pointedly demanded his presence.

They were strangers inhabiting the same house.

She’d waited for him on their wedding night, even though he’d hinted he wouldn’t come. Betty had convinced her he would, but Betty had been wrong. She’d waited every night since.

She smiled ruefully. Betty was furious.
“It’s not natural,”
she said every time she looked at the connecting door. Lizzie was certain Betty had shared her feelings with Collins who must have mentioned the topic to Robbie.

Did he hate her?

She smoothed the fabric of her skirt. She had been twisting it into knots. Betty would castigate her if she came back with her beautiful new dress ruined.

What did it matter? She could dress in servants’ castoffs for all Robbie cared.

She sniffed as quietly as possible, casting a glance at her husband. He had his head back against the squabs, his eyes closed.

And then there were the rumors inundating society all of a sudden. She had never heard a whisper concerning Robbie’s sexual exploits in all the years she’d been in Town, and now she encountered giggles and knowing looks every time she approached a group of women.

Did Robbie really have several mistresses and a few choice widows he visited regularly? No wonder he was tired.

Well, there was only one way to find out the truth of the matter. She must ask him.

Her hands started to shake. She gripped her skirt again.

Perhaps she should wait until they were returning? Then she could flee to her bedchamber for a good cry. If she broached the subject now, she would have to maintain her composure under Lady Beatrice’s eagle eye all through dinner.

No. If she waited, she would lose her courage. She only had a thimbleful in any case.

“Robbie.” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Robbie, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about…about a…” She cleared her throat once more. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about…ack.” Her throat closed up tight.

“Are you all right?”

“No. I am not all right.” She sat up straighter and clasped her hands very tightly together. “I need to speak with you. Well, I’ve been meaning to apologize.”

Robbie smiled wryly. “Lizzie, I’m certain you have nothing to apologize for.”

“No, I do. If I hadn’t been such a flat, so buffle-headed as to go up in the tower with Lord Andrew, you would not have been compelled to wed me.”

“You could not have foreseen that blackguard would attack you.”

“Well, no, I suppose not. But I knew he was not to be trusted. I knew it was unwise to be alone with him.”

Robbie held up his hand. “Enough. Do not torture yourself. It serves no purpose.”

“But I feel badly for having ruined your life.”

“You have not ruined my life, for God’s sake.”

“But…that is, I meant to ask…do you love someone else, Robbie? Is our marriage keeping you from her?”

Robbie’s voice was tight. “I do not love someone else.”

“And your mistresses and widows? I realize…I mean I…well, I have heard rumors recently and I would prefer to know the truth. Not that I have any grounds to ask you to stop frequenting the women—”