Beth didn’t know this world. It frightened her.
At last it was over. She could curtsy then look away. But he held herhand after she rose and placed a warm, even heated, kiss on her skin. Bethfelt almost as if he would ravish her then and there. Her face burned;thoughts of the wedding night surged back to obsess her.
Her next partner was the duke which gave her an opportunity to regainher external composure. A further glass of champagne seemed to help driveback her inner demons. She danced with the Duke of Devonshire and the Dukeof York. In fact, she thought, it was quite beneath her dignity now todance with anyone lower than a duke, except a marquess, she supposed. Thismade her giggle? and the Duke of York pinched her cheek approvingly. Shedrank more champagne and found she could partner her husband again withouta care in the world.
Next she came down in the world with a bump. The marquess presented herto her next partner, a mere commoner.
“Mr. Nicholas Delaney,” the marquess said, “and his wife, Eleanor. Twoof my closest friends.”
Two? thought Beth suspiciously, viewing the handsome woman. Butsomething magical between Nicholas and Eleanor Delaney defused suspicion.Even when the marquess led Mrs. Delaney away to join a set, laughing atsomething she had said, Beth could not feel jealous.
Though Nicholas Delaney was not as handsome as the marquess, she couldsee how a woman could love him. His rather unruly dusky gold hair and hislean, tanned cheeks might be unfashionable, but they were remarkablyattractive. There was also a disarming warmth in his sherry browneyes.
As he led her onto the floor, he said, “I consider this quitebarbarous, you know.”
Beth looked at him in alarm. Had the marquess told him the basis forthis marriage?
His brow quirked at her alarm. “Such a performance over a marriage,” heexplained. “Eleanor and I were married very quietly. I’m afraid after allthis you’ll need your honeymoon more as a repairing lease than aholiday.”
A holiday? Beth had never thought of that impending nightmare, thehoneymoon ? when the marquess would Finally have her in his solitary power? as any kind of pleasure. She realized she had no idea whether they wereto stay here or go back to Belcraven. Surely the latter. “It will bepleasant to be in the country,” she said.
“Yes. Eleanor and I intend to spend most of our time at our place inSomerset.”
In another time and place Beth felt as if she could have had a realconversation with this man, but at the moment all she seemed able toproduce were banalities. “We were at Belcraven until recently.”
He laughed. “Red Oaks certainly isn’t anything like Belcraven. Thatisn’t the country. It’s a town within walls.”
Beth was startled into a chuckle. “You have it exactly. I would muchrather live in a small house.”
“So much easier to manage. When you return to Town you must come andvisit us. We have a small house in Lauriston Street.” He grinned at her.“We’reveryinformal.”
She grinned back. “That sounds wonderful.”
He must have a magic touch. He had broken through her constraint andfor a moment she felt normal, ordinary, sane. But then they were caught upin the vigorous country dance and there was little further opportunity fordiscussion.
Afterwards, when he rejoined his wife, Nicholas Delaney said, “Weshould have befriended her sooner.”
“Why?” asked Eleanor.
“She’s terrified and feels very alone.”
Eleanor looked at the bride who was standing with her husband and hisparents, smiling and appearing reasonably happy. But she didn’t doubtNicholas’s judgment; he had a gift for it. “Do you know what’s going on?”she asked.
“No, but it’s . . . treacherous. I think you, of all women, could havehelped Elizabeth. But it’s too late now.”
“You think they should never have married.”
She said it as a statement, but he shook his head. “I think they’llsuit marvelously well if they give themselves a chance.” He smiled at hiswife and raised her hand for a kiss. “We know better than most how easy itis to dice with a chance of heaven. And nearly lose.”
She smiled at him, wishing as she always did that they were alone. Theyneeded no one else, except Arabel. “Can’t you say something to Lucien?”she asked.
“I have, though I didn’t understand how serious it is. There’s nothingmore to be done now. He’s as keyed up as she is.”
Eleanor looked at the handsome marquess. He, too, looked merely theproud and happy groom but here, because she knew him, she could see theartifice as well as Nicholas. The sparking brilliance that made him looklike a glittering gem was his response to tension and trouble. And it wasdangerous. She looked her concern at her husband, an infinitelyfascinating man but one who had never terrified her.
He shook his head. “He’s beyond a soothing lecture. We can only hopehis natural kindness wins out over his arrogant bloody-mindedness. And, Isuppose, that he’s read the books I gave him.”
A waltz struck up and he led her toward the floor. “Books?” Eleanorqueried in amazement. “Lucien?”
