“No,” she said uneasily. “I wouldn’t dream—”
“Good!” The transformation was immediate, the smile blinding. “Because now that I know she still loves me, there isn’t anyone I would let come between us.”
The implication was there, as plain as the warmth now generating from his eyes, that “anyone” also included Frances. And it was also plain to see that Frances was thrilled by the subtle warning.
She hugged a bemused Roslynn, whispering happily in her ear, “You see now why I don’t doubt his sincerity? Isn’t he wonderful?”
Wonderful? Roslynn wanted to choke. The man was a rake, a libertine. It was Frances herself who had warned her about trusting such men, and here was her friend, willing to marry the very one who had broken her heart.
“I hope you’ll forgive us for running off, m’dear,” Frances was saying as she stepped back, a becomingblush staining her cheeks as she finished. “But George and I have so much to talk about.”
“I’m sure she understands how we’d like to be alone just now, Franny,” George added as he put an arm about Frances’ waist, drawing her indecently close. “After all, she’s newly married herself.”
Roslynn did choke this time, but fortunately, neither of them heard, too involved with gazing into each other’s adoring eyes to pay attention to much else. And somehow she must have said the appropriate thing in reply, for less than a minute later she found herself alone in the parlor, staring dazedly at the floor, bombarded with so many conflicting emotions that not one of them could dominate to eliminate her bewilderment.
“I see you’ve received the good news.”
Roslynn turned slowly toward the door, and for a moment every single thought in her head deserted her at the sight of her husband. He had done himself up fancy in a dark emerald coat of satin, with an abundance of snowy lace spilling from his throat. And he had combed his hair back in defiance of the current favored style, but it was so soft it refused discipline, already falling forward over each temple in thick ebony waves. He was stunning, there was no other word for it, so handsome she felt her heart trip over.
But then she noticed the stance, one very familiar to her now, the shoulder braced against the doorjamb, the arms crossed over his chest—and the smugness. Hell’s teeth, it fairly dripped from him, the self-satisfied smirk, the laughter in his cobalt eyes, made so much bluer in contrast to the dark green of his coat. He was peacock-proud of himself, the scoundrel, and flaunting it with his usual male arrogance.
“Nothing to say, sweetheart, after you made so much fuss over nothing?”
Now he was taunting her, rubbing it in. Her teeth slammed together, her fingers curling into fists on her hips. Her emotions had found their channel. Fury. But he wasn’t finished. He had to go for blood.
“It must be disconcerting to have the very woman who fostered your distrust of men turn traitor and trust one. Rather puts a new light on things, doesn’t it?”
“You—” No, she wouldn’t do it. She refused to yell like a fishwife again for the servants’ amusement. “Actually,” she gritted out between clenched teeth, “there’s no comparison between my case and hers.” And then she hissed, “She’ll come to her senses in the morning.”
“Knowing old George, I doubt it. The only thing your friend will have on her mind in the morning is how she spent the night. Sound familiar?”
She tried to fight it, to hold it back, but her cheeks bloomed with color despite her effort. “You’re disgusting, Anthony. They left here to talk.”
“If you say so, sweetheart.”
The condescending tone infuriated her. He was right, of course. She knew it. He knew it. It had been so embarrassingly obvious why George and Frances were in such a hurry to leave. But damned if she’d acknowledge it to him!
Tightly, she said, “I believe I’ve developed a headache. If you’ll excuse me….” But she had to stop when she reached the door, the space still blocked by his casual pose. “Do you mind?” she asked scathingly.
Anthony straightened up slowly, amused when she gave him her back by twisting to squeeze past himwithout touching. “Coward,” he said softly and grinned when she stopped halfway across the hall, shoulders stiffening. “And I believe I owe you a lesson in a chair, don’t I?” He heard her gasp just before she broke into a run for the stairs. His laughter followed her. “Another time, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Approaching the wide double-door entrance of Edward Malory’s grand ballroom two nights after Frances’ defection to the enemy camp, as Roslynn had come to think of her reunion with Amherst, Roslynn was brought up short, dragging her two escorts to a halt as well. The many carriages in front of the Malory mansion should have given some indication, but even so, they wouldn’t have accounted for the nearly two hundred people gathered in the large room before her.
“I thought this was only to be a quiet affair of friends and family,” Roslynn remarked to Anthony, unable to keep the stiffness from her tone. After all, this party was for them. She should have been given some kind of warning. “‘Nothing too big,’ I recall were your brother’s very words.”
“Actually, this is small for one of Charlotte’s entertainments.”
“And I suppose these are allyourfriends?”
“I hate to disillusion you, sweetheart, but I’m not that popular.” Anthony grinned. “When Eddie boy said friends of the family, I believe he meant friends of each individual member of the family, or so it appears. You’re dressed accordingly, my dear.”
She wasn’t worried about how she was dressed. The moss-green gown of silk crepe, with black lace over satin bandings around the cap sleeves, the deep-scooped neckline, and the high waist and hem, was suitable for any ball, and that was certainly what thishad turned out to be. Black evening gloves and satin slippers completed the outfit, but it was the diamonds, dripping from ears, neck, wrists, and several fingers, that made her presentable in her mind, even for a presentation to the Prince Regent.
She said no more. Anthony wasn’t exactly paying attention anyway, leisurely scanning the room, which gave her a moment to gaze at him, but only a moment. She forced her eyes away, gritting her teeth.
Arriving with Anthony and James, two of the most handsome men in London, she should have been immeasurably proud, and would have been if she had considered it. But the only thing on Roslynn’s mind was how soon she could escape her husband’s presence. After the intolerable ride over here, during which she had been forced to sit next to him in the carriage, she was now a mass of screaming nerves.
