Nell had pinned the magnificent brooch at the dip in Gabby’s décolletage. Standing before the cheval mirror, Gabby had seen her own beauty for the first time. It was as if a weight had been lifted off, allowing her to stand taller, her shoulders back and posture proud.
Her confidence had only grown at her children’s reactions.
Watching as Nell had arranged soft braids over Gabby’s ears, completing her simple coiffure with a few fresh blooms, Fiona had breathed, “I want to look just like you when I’m grown up, Mama!”
“You’re the prettiest lady in the world,” Max said.
Gabby had had to discreetly dab at her eyes.
And if her children’s admiration had bolstered her self-esteem, then her husband’s had sent it into the stratosphere. His appreciation hadn’t just taken the form of words. Before leaving for the ball, he’d crowded her against her dressing room wall and planted the proof of his approval deep inside her.
“I want you to feel me all night. Here, in your pretty pussy,” he’d rasped in her ear. “I want to know that while other men ogle what’s mine, you’ll bear my claim where it counts.”
Just thinking of that deliciously debauched interlude heated Gabby’s cheeks.
“Gabby, you’re looking overheated.” Tessa’s observation stirred her from her risqué thoughts. “Do you think it’s too stuffy in here? I could have the footmen open the balcony doors—”
“The temperature is fine,” she said quickly.
“Then why are you redder than an apple?” Tessa demanded.
“I was, um, just thinking about…”
As she desperately searched for an acceptable excuse, Maggie and Emma exchanged looks, their mouths quivering.
“What’s so amusing?” Tessa wanted to know.
“I think Gabby’s glowing for a reason other than the room temperature.” Maggie’s tip-tilted emerald eyes were warm with understanding.
“Was it the dress?” Emma asked knowingly. “Husbands always like a new dress.”
Polly aimed a mischievous look at her older sister. “Is that why Strathaven buys you a new wardrobe every month?”
At least now Gabby wasn’t the only one blushing.
“Are we talking about you-know-what?” Tessa broke in.
At that, all the ladies pealed with laughter, Gabby included.
When they all quieted, Maggie reached over and gave Gabby’s hand a conspiratorial squeeze.
“Love is nothing to be ashamed of,” she said in her quiet, wise way. “Having waited so long for Ransom, I, for one, believe in seizing the moment.”
“Especially when our respective moments are so very fine,” Tessa said.
Everyone blinked at her.
“What? I can be sentimental.” Their hostess’s slim shoulders moved up and down. “I mean, look at our gentlemen: finer specimens you’ll not find elsewhere.”
Their gazes shifted to their husbands—in Maggie’s case, her fiancé—who were having their own conversation near a row of potted plants. Gabby had to agree that their male counterparts were an exceedingly virile bunch, each man in his own unique way.
With his spectacles and tall, muscular figure, brown-haired Harry Kent was an intriguing mix of scholar and athlete, his fierce intelligence a match for his lady’s cleverness. Maggie’s fiancé Ransom had the exotic look of a pirate prince with his dark hair and dashing trimmed mustache and beard, his charm the perfect foil for Maggie’s steady nature. Nor was there any arguing with the wicked appeal of Strathaven’s cool jade eyes or Acton’s Adonis looks, the way both men kept looking over at their wives the most appealing of all.
And there was Adam. To Gabby, the most magnificent of the group (she was a bit biased). It was good to see him at ease with the other husbands. He didn’t speak often, yet his sultan’s gaze missed nothing, the faint curve of his mouth conveying his enjoyment of the male camaraderie.
“Goodness, Gabby, youdohave the look of a newlywed tonight.” A smile tucked in Emma’s cheeks. “I take it matters with Mr. Garrity have improved?”
“Beyond my wildest dreams,” Gabby said fervently.
