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Something was out of sorts with their marriage, and it wasn’t only her suspicions that her husband kept a mistress in Town. After all, he hadn’t come home to their country estate except for a couple of too short months in the summer after Parliament disbanded. Since she had been in Town for this season, she had done her utmost to attempt to connect with him, to forge a friendship of sorts and find a way to make their marriage more pleasing than this barren landscape.
And yet he spent more time at Parliament or at the club than he did with her. Their conversations were…boring. Frightfully mundane and tedious as they only spoke about generalities and polite chit chatter about the weather and which social event they intended to attend. Tonight, that would change. If acting the jewel had drawn his eye to begin with—well, that and happenstance—then she would do it again.
Except, her husband did not approach her, though she occasionally caught him looking in her direction. The waltz would be called soon. Everyone present would expect them to dance together, as the hosts of the ball. What if he didn’t ask her to dance? Prue didn’t think her heart could bear the mortification.
Lady Theodosia, one of Prue’s dearest friends, and the lady in charge of 48 Berkeley Square, their secret lady’s club, laid a hand on her arm. “You’re doing wonderfully.”
Her friend’s voice was warm, her expression open and encouraging. It was easy to smile for Theo, even if privately Prue didn’t believe the encouragement. She admitted, “I’m a touch nervous. I planned for everything, but…”
“You’ve no reason to fret. Everything will go wonderfully.”
“I cannot believe so many people came,” she said with a wide smile. “My very first ball is a success. I am so very glad I accepted your dare, Theo, and you owe me fifty pounds which I will be donating to my beloved charity!”
Theo smiled, appearing even more beautiful. “I knew it would be splendid. Youarethe Countess of Wycliffe. It is time thetonknows it, and that is best done with a lavish ball.”
“It is also time for my lord to know I am his countess,” Prue said, trying not to be too obvious in the glance she cast at her husband.
How imperious he looked as he surveyed the throng, and how superbly handsome he appeared. His gaze rested on her a brief moment and then he looked away. There was so much she wanted to say to Theo, but the words would not come.
“Since his entrance, he has not stopped staring at you,” Theo said with a light laugh. “Thatis most glorious.”
Has he? She wanted to ask, and then she feared she would confess her husband did not kiss or make love with her. Ever. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to air her every fear. Prue had invited every viper who, prior to her marriage, would have cut her to ribbons. She had no reason to believe that their opinion of her had changed simply because she’d married well. If only her sister were here, but Temperance was far too busy with her new baby to attend such a late-night event.
If the earl had done more than look at her with a vague sort of indulgence since their hasty marriage, perhaps Prue would have a baby now, too. A surge of longing pierced her, and Prue pressed a hand over her waist. She and her sister could have shared in the journey together. It would be something more than feeling like she was on the outskirts of even her own ball.
Perhaps it was a blessing that Theo was a bit distracted this evening. Every second closer to the expected waltz made Prue that much more nauseous. They spoke a bit more, and then to Prue’s shock, she noted the Duke of Hartford, a handsome and coldly arrogant man, approaching them with a single-minded concentration.
“Upon my word, someoneveryeligible and a bit wicked this way comes.”
Prue listened in shock as Theo confessed the reason; she had recently denied Lady Perdita—a young lady they all liked and admired—further association with 48 Berkeley Square because of this arrogant dolt. And he was also Perdita’s brother.
The orchestra of twenty souls leaped to life as the duke approached Theo and asked for her hand in a dance. Theo looked thrilled and a bit intimidated as she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. That Prue had not expected. Theo ever looking so bowled over by any gentleman.
With her friend’s attention completely captured by the arrogant duke, Prue was able to slip away from the chatter and crush of the ballroom and into the cool spring air unobserved.
These gardens, Prue had walked often enough to know them in her sleep. She had set out lanterns for those wishing to tour the hedgerows, a far cry from the gardens in Fairfax Manor, but a small comfort in London, nevertheless. The moment she stepped between them, she felt invisible. Unobserved. Tension she hadn’t known she was holding drained away from her shoulders. Here, she didn’t have to act as if she and her husband had the perfect marriage. Here, she could acknowledge how close she was to falling to pieces.
But still, it was better to lose her composure away from the lit path. Only one turn away from the main path was an empty alcove, still awaiting the statue she’d commissioned. It was too small to fit a bench, but big enough to swathe her in shadow and give her the transient comfort of the hedgerows at her back to lean against. She took a deep breath of the scent of verdant green that almost seemed to wash out the acrid London smog. She wished for the stars she’d come to love in the country, and she closed her eyes and imagined she were there.
But if you were there, Oscar would not be.She gritted her teeth and tried to remain in the moment.
The clip of footsteps and distant voices made her breathing come shallowly. She held herself perfectly still, waiting for her guests to pass her on the path. Instead, they stopped. Out of sight, but not out of earshot.
“Come now, Wycliffe, you can’t go growling at every man in the ballroom,” a voice mockingly said.
Prue pressed her hand to her mouth to smother a gasp at her husband’s name. She recognized the voice of the man speaking, as well. A close friend of Oscar’s, judging by the frequency with which he visited the house: The Marquess of Trent.
“I am not growling,” her husband said, in what was most definitely a growl.
Trent, always an affable fellow, laughed warmly. “You’re growling at me right now.”
Her husband made a strangled sound.
Trent continued, “And this isn’t the first time this week. You skewered half the members of Parliament and may have even created some enemies with that bill you’re trying to push through.”
The crunch of gravel sounded at first as if the men would continue on their way. When the sound continued, Prue realized her husband must be pacing. “That bill is good governance, and you know it. What use is the money lining our pockets if the people under our care are starving?”
“That’s not why you’ve been so testy. And it certainly isn’t why you look ready to blacken the eye of any man who looked at your wife tonight.”
