That Infamous Pearl (18 page)

Charles threw his
head back in merriment. "Go home to your bride, Alaric. And when you've
weary of her and are ready to return to your old ways, I'll be here waiting for
you."

With a smile and a
nod Alaric left the club. His cousin's teasing had left him in a remarkably
good temper, and he had the prospect of Rowena to return home to, which
quickened his step. It was amazing, he reflected, how much a charming wife
could change a man's life. He congratulated himself once more on his choice,
and reflected smugly that with the nonsense about proving Malcolm's innocence
cleared up, she would doubtless throw her energies into making him a charming
and amenable wife.

Alaric relaxed in his
library, his long legs stretched out before him as he perused a recent work on
the great painters of the Renaissance. It had been a wedding gift from his
great-aunt Margaret, and he realized with a sense of contentment that he owned
at least one masterpiece by each of the artists mentioned in the work, and
often more than one. Perhaps, he thought idly, he would have one of the Titians
brought up from his estates in the south and hung in Rowena's bedroom. Or, even
better, he would arrange to have Rowena painted by Raeburn. An original
masterpiece depicting his most precious possession would be an excellent
ornament for his own bedroom.

He looked up with a
smile and closed the book as the door to the room opened. Rowena stood in the
doorway, and he surveyed her with satisfaction. It occurred to him that
marriage suited her. She seemed to glow in her blue gown, her blond curls
surrounding her lovely face like a halo. Perhaps she was breeding already. His
heart began to beat faster at the thought as he pictured Rowena with a baby,
his baby, clasped in her arms. He had never thought much of children before,
but the idea of a child of Rowena's suddenly seemed very attractive. If she was
not breeding he would have to see that she was soon, a pastime that would be
most diverting.

"Good morning,
Alaric," she said as she walked into the room. "I hope I'm not
disturbing you."

"Not at all."
He watched her through narrowed eyes as she approached him, and he once again
admired the graceful sway of her hips beneath her dress. His hands itched to
close around her narrow waist and pull her close to him, to play with her
carefully arranged curls until they presented the same picture of charming
dishevelment that they did in bed at night. "How is your aunt?"

"Aunt Louisa is
well, or as well as she ever is. I sometimes think she positively enjoys being
ill." Rowena stripped off her sensible tan leather gloves and Alaric
watched her movements avidly. His mind was far less on her words than her
actions as her delicate white hands were revealed. He eyed the settee thoughtfully.

"She did mention
that the Burlington ball is tonight. She feels that we should attend, and I
suppose I must agree with her," Rowena continued.

Alaric dragged his
eyes from her hands to her face. "What did you say?"

"I said that we
should attend the Burlington ball tonight," repeated Rowena patiently.

Alaric snorted. "Whatever
for? We have been married only two weeks. It is not necessary to go into
Society yet. I was never much interested in that sort of nonsense anyway."

Rowena smiled. "We
have been married almost three weeks now, Alaric, and my aunt pointed out that
our absence is beginning to cause comment. You are a married man now, and not a
bachelor. When you were wooing me you attended many social functions; now that
you have captured me am I expected to forego all amusement?"

Alaric sought out her
eyes, startled. He had not considered that Rowena might be missing the social
whirl. He was content to spend his days at home cataloging his collection,
making the occasional visit to his club or Tattersall's, exercising his horses
in the Park, and making love to his bride. But perhaps she was not as content
as he was to keep company only with each other.

"I did not
intend to deprive you of your amusements," he said, his voice stiff. "You
are of course welcome to go out at any time you choose. I am sure your aunt
would be glad to escort you tonight. You must excuse me, however." It
pained him to think that she might prefer the empty pastimes of Society to his
company, but he could hardly lock her in the house, as much as he would like
to.

Rowena sighed. She
had not wanted to tell him of her true reason for wishing to go to the ball,
but it appeared it would be necessary. She cast about in her mind for a subtle
way of making her point.

"Aunt Louisa feels
that our presence would be opportune. This is one of the largest occasions of
the Season, and everyone will be there. If I came alone so soon after the
wedding, that would doubtless cause comment."

Alaric groaned. "Why
does your Aunt Louisa's opinion suddenly carry so much weight with you, Rowena?
I have the feeling that there is something you aren't telling me."

Rowena shrugged. It
was useless to try to persuade Alaric indirectly. "Lady Bingham has been
spreading malicious gossip. Despite the best efforts of your cousin and my
aunt, our marriage is the talk of the town. If we were to appear together, some
of it might be silenced."

Alaric's hand
clenched into a fist. "What has she been saying?" His voice was low,
but there was an edge of steel to it.

Rowena looked away. "Nothing
of importance. I simply feel that it would be best if we tried to put an end to
the unpleasant rumors."

Alaric stood up and
walked towards her. Rowena took a few steps backwards until she brushed up
against the desk and could retreat no further. Alaric placed his arms on the
desk on either side of her and looked down at her, his expression dark.

"I am sure your
aunt told you the rumors in great detail. You will tell me immediately what
Marguerite has been saying."

Rowena felt a slight
tingle of pleasure as Alaric loomed over her. His body was very close to hers
and she could feel his warmth through the intervening layers of clothing. She
hoped he wasn't aware of the powerful feelings he aroused in her. It would not
do for him to think he could manipulate her in that way.

"Only that our
marriage is not a happy one," she said hastily.

"And in what way
are we supposedly unhappy?" persisted Alaric. "I am sure Marguerite
supplied a great deal more information than that. I am anxious to hear it."

Rowena looked up at
him nervously. "Aunt Louisa gave me only the most general description of
the stories. I am not aware of the exact nature of the gossip."

Alaric laughed. "Nonsense.
Your aunt is incapable of keeping any sort of scandalous tale to herself. The
truth, Rowena, or I shall not stir out of the house tonight."

Rowena gave an
exasperated shrug as her temper flared. It was all very well for Alaric to
insist on hearing all the sordid details; he did not have to deal with his own
lost temper. But she supposed he deserved to know. The whole thing was his
fault in the first place.

"Very well, my
lord. Your former mistress has informed the world that we are so ill-matched
that we have not yet consummated our marriage, nor are we likely to. It seems
that you married me simply to annoy my family, but have no intention of making
me your wife in actuality. She hints that you have already turned to other
women for consolation. Your ill-advised trip to Mrs. Blackmore's gaming house
on our wedding night of course lends credence to her spiteful story."

Alaric gave a tight
smile. Rowena's anger only made her more attractive, he reflected.

"And if you had
had your way, her story would not be far from the truth," he murmured,
feeling a touch of triumph when she lowered her eyes. "It was no wish of
yours that our marriage be consummated."

"Please, Alaric,
I thought we had gotten beyond that," said Rowena. "Have I refused
you anything in the past weeks?"

Alaric considered her
words, thinking of their nights together. He leaned forward and kissed her
nose.

"Indeed you have
not. I regret my words. It is Marguerite I should be angry with. And I am. Very
angry. She will regret that she spoke so unwisely." He turned away and
strode to the window. "Forget that you heard anything of this, my dear. I
will deal with the matter."

"You will do
nothing of the sort." Alaric swung around in surprise at the decisive note
in Rowena's voice. "Issuing ultimatums to Lady Bingham will do nothing
except please her. I believe she is attempting to attract your attention
through her foolish ploys. We must handle this in a more subtle manner."

"Marguerite is
not attempting to attract my attention. She is trying to annoy me. And she is
succeeding. I will not have her upsetting you and I plan to make that very
clear to her." Alaric's voice was firm. "You will not involve
yourself in this."

"I am already
involved in it. If you will recall, I make up half of this marriage, and I will
not allow you to take all this on yourself. We can manage her mischief making
quite easily by appearing at the ball this evening and making it plain that we
are very happy with one another. That is all that is necessary. To go to Lady
Bingham is to play into her hands."

Alaric approached
her, a black look on his face. Rowena stared back at him, uncowed.

"I have no
intention of putting myself on display for the
ton
. This solution of
yours will only cause more speculation and gossip. I will not have my marriage
become a topic for gossip."

"Then you
shouldn't have married," Rowena flung at him. "Everything you do is
discussed. You made sure of that with your scandalous reputation as a collector
of art and women. Did you really expect that your marriage would be of no
interest to the world? It is far better that we present a united front and
allow everyone to see that the talk is mere speculation and malice."

"I believe I am
somewhat more experienced in the ways of the world than you are, Rowena. You
will permit me to handle this as I think best." Alaric watched as she
turned her back on him and hunched an angry shoulder.

"I will go to
the Burlington ball tonight whether you accompany me or not, my lord," she
warned him. "I believe it is important that Society sees I am not hiding
miserably in this house."

"You will do as
you see fit, ma'am. As will I. However, I warn you that you had best not try my
patience too far. I will not have a wife who tries to bend me to her will."

"I am not trying
to bend you," snapped Rowena. "I am merely trying to show you that
uttering threats is not the best way to handle delicate social situations.
Surely the matter of Alfred Ingram should have demonstrated that to you."

Alaric's entire body
stiffened. "I have no desire to discuss the death of Ingram with you. I
believed that topic was closed. And now, if you will excuse me, I will attend
to this latest disaster. Believe me, you will not be bothered again by Lady
Bingham's malice."

He stormed out of the
library, calling for his hat. Rowena sagged against the desk, distraught. Why
did Alaric refuse to compromise in any way? Attempting to silence Marguerite
was like attempting to prevent rain from falling. The only way to stop the
gossip was to prove it untrue. If she and Alaric made their happiness apparent,
Marguerite would look spiteful and malicious, and she would be ignored.

Rowena walked slowly
to the window and pressed her nose against it, watching as Alaric strode out of
the house and down the street. He was surely going to Marguerite's house, she
thought. And Marguerite would doubtless arrange that he would be seen entering
and exiting her home. Rowena had not told Alaric that among the stories
circulating was one that Marguerite was once again his mistress. With a tiny
pang she wondered if perhaps he still wanted Marguerite. She had often been
told that the line between hate and love was a fine one. Perhaps Alaric still
desired his former mistress and cared for her more than he would admit. He
certainly reacted strongly whenever she was mentioned.

It was no help that
Rowena was not at all sure of Alaric's feelings towards her. Despite her
husband's splendid lovemaking over the weeks since their marriage, and the
lavish praise he had for her beauty and passionate nature, not a word of his
emotions had escaped him. Rowena wondered miserably if they ever would. Perhaps
he truly had married her only because she was a suitable wife and mother for
his children. Maybe he looked to other women for excitement and emotional
fulfillment. And now he was going to Lady Bingham, who would surely use the
visit to her advantage. She gave a tiny sob of frustration.

Later that night
Rowena entered the Burlington ballroom, her head held proudly, her shoulders
very straight. She was immediately aware of the sudden murmur of voices as her
presence was noted and the many speculative eyes that swung towards her. She
wished that Alaric were at her side. He had not returned home for dinner, and
had sent no message. For all she knew he was still with Marguerite, a thought
which brought any number of uncomfortable pictures to her mind's eye.

Rowena's pride had
refused to allow her to stay home and mope. She had told Alaric she would
attend this ball, and she had kept her word. She had dressed carefully in a
gown of heavy pale gold silk, a shade darker than her hair. Its deep d
é
colletage, and sophisticated cut that clung to her lower
body, along with its rich color, showed she had was no longer an ing
é
nue, but rather a dashing young matron. The heavy gold
embroidery at the hem suggested to her the settings of Mary of Scotland's
rubies, so in a moment of bravado, she had taken them from their case and
arrayed herself in them. They glowed now against her skin, their weight
reminding her of both Alaric's generosity and his infuriating need to control
her.

Rowena greeted her
openly curious hostess, allowed her to admire the fabulous rubies, and then
followed Lady Belmont into the crowded ballroom. Hundreds of ladies and
gentlemen, all dressed in the very height of fashion, glittering with jewels,
moved about. With very little effort she could hear her name passing through
the room, and gave a little shudder to think what might be being said. Her
presence, without her husband, was certain to cause even more speculation.

"Smile, Rowena."
Her aunt turned towards her with a worried look. "All the world will think
Brayleigh has been beating you if you look so tragic."

Rowena started and
pasted a smile on her face. She soon found herself surrounded by many of her former
admirers, intent on telling her of their disappointment at her marriage.

"It is
altogether too bad of Brayleigh to steal you away from us," observed Mr.
Windermere. "I had half a mind to call the fellow out when I heard the
news. I was heart-broken, positively heart-broken."

Rowena laughed at his
lugubrious expression. Mr. Windermere, she was convinced, had never for an
instant been in danger of losing his heart to her, or perhaps, any other woman.
But his words cheered her and reminded her that, no matter how Alaric felt
about her, she was not without admirers.

"Indeed, we have
missed you of late. It is a pity that you are married now, and we can no longer
court you. Or perhaps we can. I do not see Brayleigh with you tonight."

Rowena's eyes widened
at the words, and she turned to see that they had been uttered by Lord Voxley
who had joined the small circle of gentlemen clustered about her. She longed to
give him a sharp set-down, but decided that gentle words would probably be
better.

"You are all aware
that Brayleigh is not one to come to many such entertainments," she said
brightly. "I have missed them myself, but this is the first night he has
agreed to do without my company. We are so recently wed."

"I believe
Brayleigh has been seen away from home since your marriage," answered Lord
Voxley meaningfully. "We are all glad to see that you have decided to
spread your wings as well, Lady Brayleigh."

Rowena flushed with
anger at his insinuation, and was relieved when a bright voice cut in. "Excuse
me, gentlemen, but I believe I can't pass up the opportunity to dance with my
cousin's lovely bride."

Rowena looked at
Charles Montfort with an expression of gratitude and eagerly took his arm. He
led her out onto the floor and swept her into the dance.

"I can't abide
that Voxley fellow myself," he said casually. "No manners at all. I
can't imagine why he's tolerated."

"Thank you for
rescuing me from him." Rowena reflected for a moment that being rescued
from Voxley had happened to her far too frequently of late.

Charles frowned. "Alaric
should have done the rescuing. Or rather, he should have kept Voxley away from
you in the first place. Where the devil is he?"

Rowena gazed over his
shoulder at the swirling dancers. "He had other matters to attend to."

Charles snorted. "I
can't imagine what better business he would have then escorting his wife.
Especially with the ridiculous gossip the Bingham woman is spreading."

"Alaric feels he
must deal with that in his own way," said Rowena softly.

Charles gave her a
shrewd glance. "Gone off to beard the lioness in her den, has he? Alaric,
for all his reputation for coldness, can be a hothead at times. The man has a
dreadful temper. Makes him do terrible things. Why I remember back when
Arlingby--"

Charles stopped with
a start, seeming to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking. A comical look of
dismay crossed his face. "Pardon me, ma'am. Shouldn't have said anything."

Rowena watched him
avidly, her curiosity at once aroused. "Do you remember much about what
happened twelve years ago?"

Charles swallowed. "Nothing
at all, I assure you," he said hastily. "I have a shocking memory.
Alaric is always berating me for it."

"You are a
coward, Mr. Montfort," said Rowena spiritedly.

"Anything you
wish, ma'am. Just don't tell your husband I was talking to you like this. I
wish to keep my head on my shoulders!" Charles rolled his eyes in feigned
fear.

His actions were so
ludicrous that Rowena had to laugh. "Is everyone so frightened of Alaric?"

"Terrified, I
give you my word," Charles teased. "You are held in a considerable
amount of awe for having the courage to marry him."

"Nonsense.
Brayleigh is simply too indulged. All that is necessary is for one to stand up
to him, and he takes it in perfectly good part." Rowena wondered if her
words were false bravado. She had stood up to him that afternoon, and the
result was that she had to turn to her aunt for an escort that evening.

Charles eyed her
warily. "Remind me not to argue with you, ma'am. I am sure you would tear
me to shreds. Anyone with the stamina to stand up to Alaric's stubbornness must
be a formidable opponent."

A lonely one as well,
thought Rowena. She shook her head. It was better to remain angry with Alaric
than to begin feeling sorry for herself. "He would be far easier to live
with if he had not been so frightfully indulged in the past. You and his other
friends have allowed him to ride roughshod over you. You must stop immediately."

"I will consider
it, ma'am, but you must not expect too much from me. I am a weakling when it
comes to Alaric. He is altogether too intimidating for me. I have the liveliest
respect for you, however, if you have the energy to oppose him."

The music drew to a
close, and Charles bowed to Rowena. "Thank you for a delightful dance, ma'am,"
he said. "I will try to keep your instructions in mind. Will you allow me
to escort you to your aunt?"

Rowena looked around,
hoping to see Alaric's dark head towering over the crowd. There was no sign of
him, however, so with a little nod she permitted Charles to lead her across the
ballroom. He kept up a flow of inconsequential chatter, to which, much to
Rowena's relief, he apparently did not expect a response. She smiled and nodded
as she walked, her thoughts occupied by what Alaric might be doing. She tried
desperately to keep from imagining him in the arms of Lady Bingham or Lily
Magdalene, and found that it was difficult to banish the visions from her mind.

There was a sudden
flurry of whispers among the people surrounding Charles and Rowena, and the
crowd suddenly parted as if by magic. Rowena tore her thoughts back to the
Burlington ballroom to find herself face to face with Marguerite. The baroness
wore a gown of sea green that must have been sewn onto her, so tight was the
bodice. The diaphanous skirt had been dampened in such a way that it clung
quite alarmingly to her thighs, and she wore an accumulation of diamond jewelry
which almost dazzled the eyes.

Charles blanched at
the sight and moved to maneuver Rowena away, but Marguerite swiftly stepped in
front of them. She held out her hand to Charles and smiled warmly.

"Charles, my
dear. How lovely to see you. I can't imagine why we haven't seen more of each
other since my return to England."

Charles shuffled his
feet. "Must be a coincidence," he stammered. "No other reason
for it." He gave Rowena a frantic glance. "I believe you know Lady
Brayleigh?"

"Yes, indeed,"
purred Marguerite. "We have met many times. Allow me to once again
congratulate you on your marriage."

"Thank you."
Rowena spoke tartly, her temper rising at the sight of Lady Bingham. The woman
was impossible, she thought. Couldn't she content herself with spreading
malicious gossip?

"And where is
your husband this evening?" Marguerite continued. She opened her fan and waved
it languidly, eying Rowena over the top of it. "Does he not accompany you
when you go out?"

"Brayleigh is
not known for his affection for this sort of entertainment," said Rowena. "I
thank you for your concern."

"As you have
been married for several weeks now," said Marguerite. "I suppose the
time for show is surely over. No one expects the two of you to be forever in
each other's company."

There was a murmur
from the people surrounding them. It occurred to Rowena that Marguerite was
playing to the audience.

Rowena raised an
eyebrow, deciding she could not allow the other woman's attack to go
unanswered. "And why do you say that?"

"We are all
aware of Brayleigh's...preferences," said Marguerite, a smug look on her
face. "There is no need for you to dissemble, my dear."

"Brayleigh may
have had preferences in the past, but he didn't marry any of them." Rowena
took care to make sure that her voice carried. "Perhaps you are wrong in
your assessment of his desires."

Marguerite shut her
fan with an angry snap. "I think you do not know your husband as well as
you imagine. Some of us have been acquainted with him for many years."

"My dear Lady
Bingham, I'm surprised you care to admit that it has been 'a great many years.'"
Rowena produced a delicate sneer. The people nearby tittered, as Marguerite
turned a dark red under her powder, searching for a response.

"You show that
you have no idea at all of his true character," Rowena continued airily. "If
you did, you would not make such foolish statements. Length of acquaintance,
even one as long as your age permits, does not mean you know someone, Lady
Bingham. I trust you will keep that in mind."

Marguerite's eyes
narrowed dangerously, and she took a step closer to Rowena. "You are very
confident, my lady," she said softly. "But I believe you have much to
learn. Length of acquaintance does have its value in knowing how much to trust
a person. I hope you do not discover that your trust in your husband is
misplaced."

Rowena ignored
Charles, who was tugging anxiously on her arm. "At least my husband can be
counted on not to spread unwarranted gossip," she snapped. "Whatever
his other faults, he tells the truth."

Marguerite colored. "You
might find the truth disagreeable, Lady Brayleigh."

"No more
disagreeable than I find you," snapped Rowena. She abruptly turned her
back on Marguerite and bent a warm smile on Charles. "I think I could use
a glass of lemonade."

"Certainly. Glad
to oblige." Charles, with a wary glance at the fuming Marguerite, escorted
Rowena hastily out of the knot of people who had drawn about to witness the
confrontation. He gave a sigh of relief when they reached the opposite side of
the ballroom.

"I wish Alaric
had been here," he said feelingly. "She wouldn't have dared to cause
such a scene if he was."

"That is exactly
what I tried to tell him," responded Rowena. "It is necessary for us
to show the world that the stories are empty lies."

Charles wiped his
brow with his handkerchief. "Well, you certainly defended yourself well. I
daresay Alaric will have something to say about this when he hears of it."

Rowena frowned. "Do
you think he will be upset?"

"He'll be
furious," Charles assured her in a heartfelt tone.

Rowena shrugged. "It
is entirely his own fault. He is playing into Lady Bingham's hands. I certainly
hope he does not intend to scold me! I will not tolerate it."

Charles gave her an
admiring glance. "Allow me to procure that glass of lemonade for you."
He bowed politely and moved away.