Wolfsgate (43 page)

“William’s been so focused on solving her debts that he hasn’t realized that his wife has been entertaining herself with one of his friends. Or more.”

“Is it still going on between them?” Justine asked. “Both she and Charles turned their attention to you and me at the same time. What perverse…” her voice trailed off.

“We’re the new playthings in the neighborhood, don’t you know? And if, as you say, they’ve been at it for a year, they’re probably bored with each other at this point. I know Charles. That’s always been his way. He would usually linger at the end instead of making a clean break.”

“Dear Lord.”

“You’re not feeling sorry for William now, are you?”

“God, no,” Justine said. “He’s very smart. He had to have known what he was taking on when he decided to marry her.”

Brandon only smiled and squeezed her hand with both of his. She grinned. “What is so amusing, Brandon?”

“Well, I can’t say I knew what I was getting into with you as my wife.”

“Lord save us, you didn’t even know you had a wife.”

“My point exactly.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “I do so love irony, don’t you?”

“It is rather delicious, I must say.” Her face warmed under his touch.

“Hmm.” He brushed her lips with his. “We’ve got William now, Jus.”

Justine’s fingers clutched at his waistcoat. “Please, Brandon, tread carefully. Whatever you do, he might still find a way to use it against you.”

“Still so worried?” Brandon ran his hands down her arms. “Now I can threaten him with exposure, and he will have to back off. He won’t want his name or his wife’s reputation in the mud for all to see. That’s what all this has been about, hasn’t it? You must trust me,” he whispered in her ear.

His lips tickled the skin behind her ear, and the shiver that raced through her instantly propelled her to the sensation of being in his arms giving herself over to such little intimacies. After tonight all that would change, wouldn’t it?

It had to.

Her gaze met his, and he gave her that smile. Her breath caught. So damned handsome, so full of the promise of good things. Things she wanted, but could never have. Things that would never be hers.

Remember this. This moment. This feeling.

He kissed her hand and left her, taking a piece of her with him.

Someone played the spinet, and Justine took in a breath of air as the melodic tones of the fine instrument filled the house. Thankfully, she had arranged for it to be tuned last week.

“There you are.” Georgie bustled into the dining room.

Justine’s hand went to her middle. “Who’s playing?”

“Mariah Marchmain along with a rather ill-tempered Andrew Blakelock at her side.”

Justine swept to the doorway to get a better look down the hall to the drawing room. Georgina went to the table and checked on the delectable offerings, adjusting platters of iced cakes and sweet meats. Movement caught her eye by the servants’ hallway off the dining room which lead to the cellar stairs. She approached, but hushed voices stopped her in her tracks.

“Enough, Charles. I do not care any longer.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, lady mine,” came Charles’s voice.

“I’m not your lady, sir.”

“Turn of phrase, love and indeed, I am most fortunate that you are not.”

“How dare you!”

Justine darted over to Georgina. Luckily the dining room was empty except for them.

“Honestly, Amanda, are you actually offended by that?”

“You’ve grown quite tedious.”

“That goes both ways, Mrs. Treharne. Be assured, I have seen the error of my ways. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Georgina and Justine only stared at one another. There was a scuffle of sorts, and they immediately turned and busied themselves over a great china vase of holly, ivy and bay branches Georgina had prepared the day before. The stamping of a woman’s delicate shoes on the parquet receded from the room. Georgina turned slowly. Charles stood over the great table plucking sugar biscuits.

She strode towards him. “Are you mad?” His head snapped up at her, his face a mask.

“Georgina, quiet!” Justine said right behind her.

“Have you been carrying on with Amanda?” Georgina asked.

Charles’s hard gaze flicked over her. “Stay out of it, Georgie.”

“And I repeat—are you mad?” Georgina crossed her arms. “How could you do this to one of your good friends?” He shifted his weight and said nothing. He only returned his attention to the table, picked a sweetmeat and chewed on it. Georgina moved in closer to him. “And yet you have been hovering over Justine the past few weeks, at the very same time?”

“That’s not exactly true,” Charles said swallowing.

“Not
exactly
?” Justine asked.

Georgina’s eyes were fierce. “Are you such a helpless rogue, Mr. Montclare?”

“Georgina…” He brushed off the powdered sugar from his fingers.

“That bored with your life?”

“Stop this.”

“Or are you simply that insatiable?”

Charles’s eyes flared. “Shut it!”

Georgina’s hands gripped her hips. “I most certainly will not. How dare you talk to me that way.”

“I’ve known you since the day you were born, little mouse. I’m like your own brother.”

“I’m the one who caught you out just now, Charles Montclare, and you’re talking to me like I’m the naughty one.”

“Naughty? Really, Georgie? We’re not children any longer, are we?” Charles bit out.

“That is plainly obvious,” she shot back. “Is it done with now?”

“You overheard us, did you not?”

“Is it done with, for good?”

His lips pressed together in a firm line. “Yes, dammit. It’s been over for quite some time, but now it’s official. Is that sufficient for you?”

Justine tilted her head at him. “Was it worth it?”

He trained his gaze on her, his posture stiff. “What, exactly?”

“Being naughty with La Amanda?” Georgina asked.

“Christ, the two of you!” His eyes darkened, and he averted his gaze. He exhaled watching several couples enter the room, stroll by the table, and decide on sweets from the colorful selection. He gripped Georgie’s elbow and Justine’s arm and led them out of the dining room to the hall by the staircase.

“Well, was it worth all the bother?” Georgina whispered. “Will you now be forever dissatisfied with the rest of womankind for none will ever compare to her?”

“What a mouth!”

“It starts with my brain, darling,” she said.

“Hmm,” he murmured. His light brown eyes narrowed over hers. “A gentleman does not discuss such things, especially with young ladies.”

“A gentleman, indeed,” she muttered. His eyes flared at her again. Georgina’s brows knit together for a moment. “Was possessing Amanda’s perfection for even a short time so very worth the risk?”

His shoulders dropped. “What perfection? Is that what you think? You too, Lady Justine?” He shook his head and crossed his arms. “Oh, she’s far from perfect.”

“Then why?”

“You really want to know, Miss Georgina?”

“I’m all fascination, Mr. Montclare. Educate me.”

Charles followed Justine’s gaze to Andrew and Mariah at the spinet, Amanda and William standing nearby. “She is, of course, a great beauty, but what I enjoyed was the chase. She likes games, as do I. I never expected nor wanted more. She’s married, after all. In the end that’s all it was really, a game, a wearisome one at that.”

Justine turned to face him.“A game that included me?”

Charles’s jaw clenched. “That was Amanda’s idea.”

“Pardon?”

“She wants Brandon, so she asked me to distract his wife. The crazy thing is,” he leaned in closer to the women, “William asked me to do the same thing—to dally with Lady Graven in order to annoy Brandon. Imagine my surprise and delight.” Charles let out a heavy sigh.

“Bloody hell!” Georgina’s voice lowered.

“Tsk, Georgie. It’s mad, eh? I must admit I found it amusing in the beginning, but it began to vex me. Brandon’s been through a hell of a lot, and Lady Graven, you did not deserve such treatment. You don’t deserve to be trapped in their twisted webs.”

“Neither do you,” Georgina said.

His head jerked up. “Pardon?”

“You do not deserve that sort of twisted rubbish either.”

“Don’t I?”

“Why should you be their puppet, Mr. Montclare?” she asked. He studied her as if taking her in for the first time. Georgina’s eyebrow quirked under his obvious examination. Justine only smiled and quickly returned her attention to the spinet playing.

“Charles?” Georgina stared at him.

He shifted his weight, his hand brushed his forehead. “Yes. I mean, no. I won’t be their puppet.”

“Congratulations, then.” Georgina turned her head slightly to smile at Lord Marchmain and Mr. Blakelock as they passed.

Charles touched her arm. “Congratulations for what?”

She smiled at him. “For extricating yourself from her and that vile situation, you idiot.”

His eyebrows darted up. “Should I say thank you?”

“If you like.”

He leaned in closer to her. “And now do you hate me, Miss Georgina? Are you going to run off to your little circle of friends and discuss Charles Montclare’s disgusting, roguish ways and plot the downfall of Amanda Treharne while you’re at it?”

Georgina bit her lower lip. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely not what? You don’t hate me or you—”

“No, Charles, I do not hate you.” Her eyes danced in the glow of the candlelight.

“Should I believe you?”

A smug smile swept over Georgina’s lips. “Everyone already knows you’re a rogue, Mr. Montclare, and I do not delight in spreading nasty rumors. Anyway, I consider you a friend. I would never hurt you intentionally.”

“Ah, but you would unintentionally?”

“No, I…”

“Well, I am most grateful for your friendship and care, Miss Georgina.” Charles bowed his head at her. “And yours, Lady Graven. I realize I do not deserve your generosity, but I do beg your forgiveness for my behavior. Please know I value your friendship and I hope that in future we may—”

“I will consider your request, Mr. Montclare,” Justine said. “Rest assured, this shall remain between us.”

“Thank you.” His gaze darted between the ladies. “May I ask, do you both really think she’s perfect?”

“No,” Georgina said. Her eyes traveled over Charles’s finely tailored waistcoat, then her gaze snapped up at him. “She does though. Her attitude is overwhelmingly annoying. I have this recurring fantasy of releasing the pins from those coiled ringlets, sending her jewelry sailing, misaligning ribbons on the trim of her dress, seeing unsightly red splotches mar her pale skin—”

“Georgie, hush!” Justine squeezed her friend’s arm.

Charles laughed, his golden brown eyes settling on Georgina. “That I’d like to see. Truly. I would pay money, in fact, to witness that.”

“I’m sure you would,” Georgina said, an eyebrow lifting.

His finger brushed her nose. “You’re a funny thing, aren’t you?”

“Hilarious.” Georgie cleared her throat. “Shall we go through?”

He tucked her arm in his. “I shall escort you. You do realize, however, that being seen with me, a vile rogue, might tarnish your reputation?”

“Ah, I do not have a reputation, Mr. Montclare.” She took in a breath. “Not just yet.”

“Then it would be my pleasure to oblige you in such an endeavor.” Charles led Georgina into the parlor, Justine behind them.

Charles glanced down at Georgina, her eyes shining, her lips firmly pressed together. “Oh, do keep on, Georgie,” he murmured, his fingers grazing the back of her hand on his arm. “I think my evening has just greatly improved.”

Half empty platters of small mince pies and gooseberry tartlets, bowls of oranges and apples, and demolished jellies along with wafer and cake crumbs littered the great dining table. The guests showed their pleasure and approval of the Graven Christmas Tea by leaving behind a dizzying array of plates, bowls, glasses, and tea cups everywhere. Thankfully, they also left plenty of gifts for the underprivileged children of the village for Justine to distribute.

Several coaches and carriages made their way down the drive in the darkness of night as Justine stood at the open door. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh cold air in her lungs. She was exhausted and dearly looked forward to removing her shoes and dress and collapsing into bed at long last.

“Very fine party, Lady Graven. Well done,” William’s voice rose behind her. Her ribs squeezed together instinctively at the sound. “Well done, indeed.”

Justine remained motionless under his cold, assessing gaze.

“I underestimated you,” William said, the lines of his face relaxed.

“Oh?”

“You make a perfectly respectable Lady Graven. I always thought you’d only amount to a second-rate imitation. Yet this evening I watched you, and you were very gracious and attentive with all your guests and to your husband.” He leaned in close to her, his woodsy aroma invading her nostrils warning her she was now in different territory.

“Does he like it, Tina? Fucking you?” William breathed. “Or does he pound into you every time desperate to erase me?” Justine’s heart thudded with every word. William tilted his head at her, his eyes taking her in. “Are you frightened now?”