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“Go and talk with her, would you?” Arlington nudged him the lady’s way. “I threw this party so you could prove to the quality that you’ve been reformed by this engagement, publicly at least. Why don’t you go kiss some hands and smile at some simpering ladies?”
“Bugger you, Arlington.”
“Then after, we’ll visit some houses of iniquitous congress, where you can reward yourself for your impeccable manners and respectability. Go on. Don’t stand here talking to me.”
Hunter heaved a sigh. “Very well. I’m off to court the Lady Aurelia, if she doesn’t run away from me first.”
*** *** ***
Aurelia’s whole body went tense as Lord Townsend ambled across the lush expanse of garden. Her future husband looked well enough in his fine embroidered coat, his black hair neatly tamed. Even his expression gave no cause for offense. His dark brown eyes were soft and his features arranged in a semblance of pleasant greeting, but Aurelia recognized his distaste for her. She felt it in every part of her body whenever he was around. Her companions’ idle chatter tapered off as he stopped before their table.
“Will you have some tea, Lord Townsend?” chirped Lady Wilhelmina. “Or one of these delicious confections?”
“There’s only one delicious confection I’m hungry for at the moment.”
Aurelia flushed hot as his eyes settled on her. The women giggled as though he was charming, but she felt humiliated. Must he profess to be hungry for her? How crass, how gauche...how completely made up. She hated that they must playact false affection between them.
“Lady Aurelia,” he said brightly. “I couldn’t stay from your side a moment longer.”
She was obliged to offer her hand, and when she did, he bowed over it, brushing a kiss across the back of her glove. “Lord Townsend,” she replied in a voice she hoped sounded equally bright. “It’s a lovely party, isn’t it? The weather is fine.”
“The beauty of the day pales in comparison to your charms.”
Mockery. Lies. If only Lord Warren were here, she wouldn’t feel so agitated, but since her official engagement to Lord Townsend, the man had made himself scarce. Lord Townsend gave her a desultory smile. She imagined he knew every one of her thoughts and mocked her for it.
“Ladies,” he said, looking around at her companions, “would you be so kind as to spare my dear Aurelia? I had hoped to stroll with her about His Grace’s picturesque grounds.”
By asking her friends for permission, he’d more or less stymied her ability to decline. She sighed and rose to take his arm. He covered her gloved hand with his and guided her past clusters of party guests, along the outer perimeter of the duke’s gardens. When she glanced over, she didn’t see his face, but rather the outline of his muscular shoulder, encased in his meticulously tailored coat. Must he tower over her? But his father was tall, and his mother too. She supposed she would bear grotesquely tall children unless she could find a way out of this engagement.
“It is a lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say to his daunting shoulder.
“Yes, and a lovely party, as you mentioned some moments ago. You seem to find everything lovely. What a charming quirk.”
Aurelia wished she could quirk him right between his eyes with the heel of her slipper. “I only meant to make polite conversation.”
“Ah, well. I can do that too if I apply myself. Which facile and boring topics shall we discuss? We’ve already touched on the weather, but I suppose we can revisit it.” He turned his head up to the sky. “What a beautiful day, with the clouds and the breeze, and the flowers blooming so madly.”
Aurelia refused to be baited. “I do think it’s beautiful. It was kind of His Grace to host this party in our honor.”
“His Grace likes to do kind things. He’s a very proper chap.”
“You call the duke ‘His Grace’? I heard you were close friends.”
“We’re longtime friends, and I’ve called him many things in the course of our history, but in such a lovely setting”—he emphasized her word with exaggerated mockery—“I find myself inclined to adhere to formalities.” He gave her a speculative look. “Is that what you and your friends do at your tea table? Gossip about me and Arlington?”
“No, we don’t do anything of the sort. It’s only that your name comes up in conversation, now that we’re engaged.”
“That must be a trial for you.”
Aurelia decided not to answer. In truth, it was a trial, just like everything else about this engagement. This was the third social event they’d attended in one another’s company. The opera had been easy—they’d simply sat beside one another in silence until they could leave. Riding in Hyde Park had been easy too, since the bustle of people and carriages made conversation impossible.
This garden party was far too quiet, and strolling on the Marquess of Townsend’s arm felt too intimate for her tastes.
“Out of conversation already? No more lovely topics?” he jested. “We’d suit one another better if you weren’t such a mouse.”
“I am not a mouse.”
“Look at me and say that.”
To her chagrin, she realized she’d ducked her chin practically to her chest. His closeness unsettled her, no matter how she tried to ignore it. His conspicuous maleness tied her in knots. This great, ungainly man was going to be her husband. He was going to live with her and get children on her. She’d been sheltered, but she knew how children were made. Well, for the most part.
“I am not a mouse,” she said in a firmer voice, almost managing to meet his gaze.
“They call you Lady Dormouse.”
“That’s not a very gentlemanly thing to point out.”
“Ah, but I’m not much of a gentleman. How poorly we suit each other. It’s a shame.”
“Back out of our betrothal then,” she said through tight lips. “I wish you would.”
“I wish I could. I’ve tried to think of ways to do it, but there are more powerful forces forming this union.” He stopped and turned to her, tilting up her chin with one gloved fingertip. “Besides that, I find you too fragile and innocent to humiliate with a broken betrothal. It would weigh on my conscience.”
Even now, he mocked her. Everything about him made her cross. “I thought you abhorred my fragility and innocence.”
He chuckled. “Abhorred is a very strong word. No, Aurelia, fragility and innocence aren’t bad qualities in a wife. At least I’ll know no one has trespassed before me when I mount you on our wedding night.”
She drew in a breath as delicately as she could, when what she really needed to do was gasp for air. Of all the inappropriate and coarse things to say! She moved to pull away from him, to flee, but he grasped her hand.
“Does my forthright speech offend you?”
“You know it does,” she said. “You...you impolite blackguard.”
“Goodness, is that the best you can do? Lady Dormouse indeed. You ought to call me a bastard instead. A bleeding bastard, if you really want to make a point.”
Aurelia looked around in alarm, but no one was near enough to hear this scandalous conversation. “Ladies don’t talk that way,” she said. “Gentlemen shouldn’t either.”
“And gentlemen shouldn’t speak of mounting their brides. I know. That doesn’t change the fact that it shall happen very shortly, my Aurelia.”
She considered him with a stricken expression. My Aurelia? “I’m not yours yet, Lord Townsend.”
“I’ll make it good for you, darling. Don’t worry.”
She wanted to spit at him that she wasn’t worried, but the truth was, she was terrified. Her gaze dropped to his neatly tied cravat, then down to his broad shoulders and chest. When she looked back up to meet his eyes, he wore a self-satisfied expression.
“You enjoy this,” she said. “You enjoy mocking and taunting me. That’s why you lured me into this walk.”
“In what way am I taunting you? I’m trying to reassure yo
u.”
“By threatening to mount me?”
He made a muted sound of reproach. “It’s not a threat. It’s what’s going to happen in precisely eight days. I’ve been counting the hours until our wedding night. Such is my hunger to possess you.”
Oh, he meant to shock her, this loathsome man. She moved her hand to disengage his fingers. “I want to return to my friends.”
“Look at me and smile, then. We must convince people we are happy to marry, not trapped in some unwanted and ill-conceived betrothal.”
