The silence in the wake of those gently spoken words was thick and heavy. He saw how pale Meredith’s face had become, how the emotions she was feeling turned her beautiful eyes into bottomless pools. He was struck suddenly with the urge to reach for her, to hold her in his arms, to accept and give the comfort they both seemed to need so desperately.
Yet he could not. Ignoring the stabbing of his heart, Trevor willed himself to remain impassive. He had married Meredith to avoid a scandal, to set to rights the part he had played in her fall from grace. It would benefit neither of them to let these raw emotions cloud their relationship.
Trevor reached for the door that led to his chambers, but experienced a moment of acute discomfort. The expression on her lovely face haunted him. “I shall call for you in two hours, so we may go downstairs together.”
“I will be ready.”
Keeping his back to her he added, “I have no doubt you will charm and dazzle them all tonight.”
Trevor heard her sigh softly. “Including the duke?”
“Especially the duke.”
The rustle of silk alerted the marquess that she had come closer, but he still refused to turn around and face her. He waited with both dread and anticipation for her hand to fall upon his shoulder, but she resisted touching him.
“And what of the duke’s brooding, wild, hedonistic son?”
Bloody hell, she is relentless. Trevor clenched his teeth. “The marquess would never have taken a bride who was not worthy of his regard.”
This time he did not hesitate, but turned the knob and fled to the sanctuary of his rooms.
The duke’s party was hardly the small, intimate gathering Meredith had expected. Though she had spent most of her life among the aristocracy, she had forgotten that dukes did most things on a grander scale than other peers. There were forty-nine guests for dinner. The inclusion of the marquess and his new bride brought the number of people seated around the table to fifty-two.
At the start of the meal, the duke stood and made an appropriate though not overly enthusiastic toast to the health and happiness of the bride and groom. Given his attitude toward her and his initial reaction to the marriage, Meredith felt it was more than adequate.
This announcement was met with flurries of whispers and glances of speculation, but no one dared to make even an insinuation of an insult while in the ducal residence.
As the only female relation, Meredith was seated to the duke’s left. There was a brief moment of awkward tension when she was introduced to Lady Anne Smithe, the attractive woman seated on the duke’s right. Meredith quickly deduced this woman was the true reason for the party that evening, for she was the one handpicked by the duke to marry Trevor.
Lady Anne was a slightly built woman in her late twenties with pleasant features, lovely dark hair, and a full, lush figure. As much as she hated to admit it, Meredith was curious about this woman the duke had selected. While the formally garbed footmen, dressed in their silver livery and powdered wigs, served course after course of rich, elaborately prepared food, Meredith observed her rival.
Lady Anne had a quick wit, a keen mind, and an ease of social graces any woman would envy, including Meredith. She graciously included all those around her in every conversation and encouraged lively, appropriate debate.
Yet the true test of her character came when a footman, in the act of refilling her wine goblet, upset the glass.
“Fool!” the duke yelled, startling the servant further. “How dare such a clumsy imbecile serve at my table? You are sloshing wine all over Lady Anne!”
The young man glanced down with beseeching eyes and made a fateful grab for the crystal goblet. The duke’s outburst had attracted the attention of many of the guests and they all turned to stare in fascinated horror as the red nectar spilled over the tumbling goblet, staining the stark white linen of the tablecloth and soaking Lady Anne’s fingers.
“My apologizes, my lady,” the servant stammered, as he hastily tried to wipe away the evidence of his mistake.
“There is no cause for alarm,” Lady Anne said in a mild tone. “The wine barely touched me. I commend you, young man, for catching that goblet so quickly. If not, I might have ended up with a lap filled with wine. Would that not have been a sight to behold, Your Grace?”
It seemed as though the entire dining room held its collective breath as they waited for the duke to react. The older man muttered something under his breath about hiring more competent servants. “He’s not fit to serve in my household if he can’t pour a simple goblet of wine without making a mess of it,” the duke said.
“Nonsense, Your Grace,” Lady Anne interjected. “I have already said no harm was done. May I have some more wine, please?”
Meredith saw Lady Anne give the footman an encouraging nod as she held out her glass. His sagging shoulders straightened and he filled her goblet without spilling a drop.
The move succeeded in diverting the duke’s attention to other matters, and he was soon engaged in conversation again. As the footman retreated respectfully behind Lady Anne’s chair, Meredith thought she heard him whisper, “Thank you, my lady.”
The rest of the meal concluded without incident. When it was time for the ladies to withdraw so the men could indulge in port and cigars, Meredith conceded that her new father-in-law had excellent taste in women. Lady Anne would have been a good match for the wayward marquess.
Once in the drawing room, the women separated into groups. Tea was brought in and served to those who desired a cup, cozy clusters of friends settled into smaller circles to visit and gossip, and others congregated around the pianoforte. Discussion among the mothers as to which of their young, eligible daughters would play and sing first became a heated debate that soon threatened to become uncivilized.
Meredith, in the process of supervising the tea service on the other side of the room, tried to hurry across the room to intervene, but Lady Anne arrived first. She diplomatically managed to sooth all the ruffled feathers and organize an order of performance that was agreeable to everyone.
“She is rather a marvel, our Lady Anne,” a deep male voice whispered in her ear.
