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While Jude and his brother were reminiscing about something decidedly male—a fishing hole of some sort—there was a grand flourish of violins, and Marissa looked up to find her mother gesturing furiously from the potted ferns that hid the orchestra.
"Jude, I believe we're wanted."
"Ah, yes. That plant does seem excessively eager. Pardon us, Father. Melbourne."
They emerged from the ferns a minute later, flanked by a cadre of cherubs. Edward, who was in the midst of introducing them to the crowd, choked and stumbled to a halt when he saw the great flock of wings. Marissa wished she could simply disappear into the floor, but Jude appeared to be greatly enjoying himself. She elbowed him several times, but his grin never faltered.
As he refused to share her humiliation, Marissa distracted herself by looking over the crowd. Beth and her cousin were right at the front, and Mr. Dunwoody, that fickle idiot, stood at Nanette's side, smiling down at her. Interestingly enough, Cousin Harry stood at Beth's side. Marissa would have thought nothing of it, if not for their recent conversation.
Before she could ponder it further, the room erupted into applause at the last of her brother's words, and the flock of cherubs ushered Jude and Marissa out to the dance floor.
Marissa threw off her thoughts, ignored the loose feathers floating in the air, and put her arms around her husband.
"No regrets yet?" he asked as they stepped into the music of the waltz.
"Aside from my fear that I'll slip on an angel feather and break my neck, no regrets at all. And you?"
"You know I've wanted this from the moment we met."
"When did we first meet?" she teased him.
She'd only been joking, but Jude's face turned intent when he looked down at her. "Aidan had dragged me here for some hunting. I don't care for the hunt, but I came along anyway. And when I walked into the music room, there you were, dancing with your cousin. You smiled at something he said, and then you caught sight of some gentleman walking past, and all your bright prettiness turned wicked and warm."
"Stop," she laughed.
"It's true. And I thought to myself, there is a woman who wants pleasure."
'Jude!" She blushed and slapped his arm; then she realized that the whole crowd chuckled in response. They were being watched. "You're awful," she whispered.
"Perhaps. But I was right, wasn't I?"
Finally, a few other couples joined them in the waltz, and Marissa could lean a little closer to her husband. "I do want pleasure," she answered. "Badly."
"Wench. Don't tease."
"But I've so yearned for a good ride these past weeks."
Jude groaned and glared around the room. "How many dances must we grant them?"
"No more than three, I should think."
"Excellent."
Marissa watched Mr. Dunwoody as he hurried by with a glass of punch. He looked... delicate and weak-chinned. The thought made her smile.
Jude leaned in close again. "Once we are established, I shall have to hire pretty footmen to entertain your eye."
"What? I wasn't ogling anyone." "Mm-hm."
"I wasn't! Anyway, I thought you were a jealous man now."
He pulled back to smile down at her. "No. I'm not jealous anymore. Look as much as you like. Just touching, if you please."
"Ah. The same goes for you, husband."
"I have no need to look at other women," he said with a cocky smile.
"We'll see. In a few years' time, you may Find yourself yearning for a glimpse of a real bosom. Or two."
