Lord Charlesworth returned a cold bow and ushered his wife away.
“Who are those people, Robert?” Kate watched the lady dab at her eyes with a handkerchief as they left the room.
“My mother and her second husband.” Robert’s fingers firmed on her arm, and his cold, strained voice did not invite her to comment.
Shocked, Kate suffered a rush of sympathy for the woman. Ignoring his warning, she gazed into his face. “Your mother? But you were so harsh with her. Why, she was crying!”
Robert stared down at her, his expression confusing her. “Becoming my wife does not give you the right to question my behavior.”
Kate clamped her lips together to stop herself from answering back. It was unthinkable that such bad blood could occur between family members. What on earth happened to cause this dreadful rift?
She danced twice with Robert. He was a graceful dancer, and even though she was absorbed with the steps, she relished being with him and hoped they would dance together again. It appeared unlikely, for husbands and wives did not seem to dance together overmuch. A friend came to claim him for a card game and after he introduced her to Lady Blaine, he bowed and left her, disappearing into the gaming room.
Older, Lady Blaine clucked her tongue. “It is a shame to desert you when you are newlyweds, I must say. But your husband is no different to any other men here tonight, my dear. Shall we sit down?” Kate spent a pleasant half hour with Lady Blain who told her about her grandchildren until Kate was asked to dance again.
For the next few hours, Kate drank champagne, chatted, and danced. Her toes hurt in her new shoes, and the droll and salacious banter swirling around the room began to fatigue her. George, Prince of Wales, who had left the ball with his parents, was discussed at length. Mrs. Maria Anne Fitzherbert had given birth to a son who, it was said, had been sired by the prince. Intent on pursuing her, he had consented to their marriage, now deemed illegal because the lady was Catholic. The baby, christened James Ord, was to be raised by Catholics in America. It shocked Kate when a witty man induced great amusement by listing all the women the Prince had bedded before the tender age of one-and-twenty.
Kate sat to rest her aching feet and declined another glass of champagne. She hadn’t noticed how many glasses she’d drunk during the course of the evening. It would not do to appear in one’s cups here, and she was already a trifle tipsy.
When she could bear no more, she went in search of her husband. She found him at the card table. His face tightening, he stood to greet her. “Yes, my love?”
Kate quaked and gritted her teeth. “I wish to go home, my lord.”
Robert threw down his cards. “I’m out.” His challenging gaze roamed the assembled group as he tossed a pile of coins into the mix of paper money and wagers in the center of the table. “Gentlemen. I shall have to wait for another evening to relieve you of your funds.”
“Take care, St. Malin. You may not win at home, either,” a red-haired gentleman said. Their chuckles followed Kate and Robert from the room.
Robert glowered at her as they sought out their hostess. “Please don’t ever do that again,” he said in a fierce undertone.
He complimented Lady Elphinstone on the success of her ball.
She tilted her head with a flirtatious smile and discussed the ball for several minutes while failing to draw Kate into the conversation.
Perhaps aware of it, Robert took her arm. “It is Lady St. Malin’s first ball,” he said. “And I believe she enjoyed it, too. Did you not, Kate?”
“Indeed. I met so many kind people, I am overwhelmed,” Kate said pointedly.
In the foyer, Robert called for their cloaks and their coach to be brought around.
Kate wanted to apologize for embarrassing him in the card room but feared it might start an argument. She had no energy for it.
As they donned their outer garments, Kate yawned behind a gloved hand. Outside, the fresh air made her dizzy, and she gripped Robert’s arm, stumbling over her feet.
In the flickering light of the braziers, his eyes softened. “It’s been quite an evening for you, hasn’t it?” He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. “And you did remarkably well.”
Their coach drew up, and Robert assisted her inside while the footman stood back.
Relieved she’d made it through the evening without disgracing herself or Robert, Kate sank down gratefully onto the luxurious satin squab. She was awfully tired, and the dimly lit blue and gold interior of the carriage began to waver about.
They drove through the dim London streets wheels clattering over the cobbles. Robert had employed two link boys to run ahead to light the way, for it was black as pitch when the moon hid behind the clouds and the street lamps had been doused hours ago.
Kate yawned, her head spinning. She tried and failed to count how many glasses of champagne she’d drunk during the evening. They drank champagne only rarely in Oxford, her father preferred ale and her mother sherry.
A town-crier called the hour. It was well past midnight.
Beside her, Robert quizzed her about the evening as she lay back against the squab. Who she’d met, and liked, or disliked. She gave a rather droll description of Lord Branchford’s opinion of Oxford and was pleased when Robert laughed. But when her tongue seemed to grow thick, and she tripped over the words, she lapsed into silence.
The carriage swerved around a corner and threw her against him. His arm came around her shoulders to steady her and remained. She leaned against his chest, enjoying his clean, manly smell far more than those with whom she’d been dancing, where the heavy use of scent and powder failed to disguise the rank smell of stale sweat.
Not used to staying up so late, Kate yawned again. They went to bed with the chickens in Oxford. She peeped up at his handsome jawline in the half-dark. It was not done for a woman to show affection to her husband in public. She’d heard a woman at the ball criticize a wife for kissing her husband too demonstrably. In fact, it didn’t seem fashionable to love one’s husband at all. Affairs could be easily arranged if any of the gossip could be believed. If it was discreet, few appeared to mind. She didn’t understand this world of thetonand was not at all sure she wished to be part of it.
“It won’t happen to us,” she murmured. The rhythmic clunk of the carriage wheels on the cobbles proved soporific, and her eyelids grew heavy.
Robert tilted his head toward her. “What won’t?”
“Never,” she said emphatically, closing her eyes. She drifted off to the sound of his deep chuckle, relishing the squeeze he gave her.
