The non sequitur momentarily threw him off, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I suppose. Why the question? Are you not happy, Abby?” he asked seriously.
Oh, bother. She shouldn’t have brought this subject up. What a thoughtless question. Now he was bound to wonder and worry about her. She smiled brightly. “Of course I am. Don’t mind me.”
On impulse, she leaned up and gave him a peck on the lips. She wanted him to feel happy, but all she saw was his puzzled frown as she turned and rushed from his room.
CHAPTER 20
HE COULD PUT UP WITHa damn ball. It was just for a few hours. Colin kept telling himself that as he entered the grand ballroom of the Earl of Wentworth’s town house, his wife on one arm, and his sister on the other.
Couldn’t be worse than an entire week of escorting said wife and sister to shop after shop. Watching as Elizabeth exclaimed over everything, wanting to buy half of Bond street, while he tried to encourage his wife to buy at least some ballgowns and other proper accouterments to make their way in society.
To be fair, they had not required his presence, but like a besotted fool, he had wanted to spend time in his wife’s company. He noted with surprise that despite the overabundance of lace, fabric and fripperies, he had enjoyed the outings. And they had been worth it in the end, judging by how breathtakingly alluring Abigail looked tonight.
She was wearing a deep blue silk gown with an off the shoulder decolletage that exposed the creamy skin of her shoulders and made her eyes shine deep and gray-blue like the north sea. His sister was beautiful as well. She was wearing a pale cream dress and looked as fresh and winsome as a daisy. But it was Abigail who stole his breath.
They were announced, and after greeting their host and hostess, they stepped into the ballroom. The sea of people parted, allowing them in, closing again around them.
All at once, people swarmed them, greeting them and requesting introductions. He noted with disgust that most of them were men. No doubt attracted by the beauty of his wife and sister. He wanted to snarl and tell them all to go sod themselves. But despite his unconventional upbringing, he had been raised as a gentleman. So he smiled through gritted teeth and performed the introductions.
All the while pretending not to notice how men stared at his wife. He should have expected this, but it still came as a shock. The moment they had stepped foot in the ballroom, his wife had transformed from a self-effacing, quiet woman to a charming society matron. She smiled, conversed, even flirted, with the natural ease of someone born to this.
Which she had been, of course. And he recognized it as a social mask. Only a performance, akin to reciting the lines of a script or repeating the steps of a dance. Her movements were as natural as breathing. He knew his lines, too. And he delivered them as expected. But that didn't mean he liked them.
“Lady Hartfield,” another popinjay bowed over her hand, almost touching his lips to her gloved fingers. “Your beauty dazzles my eyes. I must beg that you grant me a waltz.”
Damn, this was the fifth man who requested a waltz. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a chance to dance with her. Maybe he should have put his name down for three or four dances and damn the code that proclaimed it bad form to dance with one’s own spouse. The rule was pretty stupid.
She smiled and conceded the dance. The popinjay turned to Elizabeth to repeat his outrageous flattery.
He could feel the frown pinching his eyebrows and forced himself to relax his face. It wouldn’t do to appear like a jealous fool. That would be a patent display of weakness. And one didn't show weakness in the presence of predators.
The strains of the first waltz floated in the air and his wife and sister’s respective partners for this dance came to collect them and lead them to the dance floor. Suppressing a snarl, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a footman, wishing they had something stronger. Cognac or whisky would be welcomed right about now.
He prowled around the edge of the ballroom, coming to rest a shoulder against a marble column at one corner of the ballroom, the better to keep eyes on his women. These gentlemen may look civilized, but underneath were nothing but a pack of wolves. And beautiful women such as his wife and sister were their favorite prey.
“You are a braver man than I.” An amused voice drawled from the other side of the column.
