Page 42 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

‘I bought them.’

‘I did not ask for such expensive jewellery. My mother’s pendant will be quite sufficient.’

His gaze hardened, if that was possible. ‘This is about my reputation. Our family’s reputation. You will wear them with pride as befits my family name.’ He picked up the pendant from the dressing table, gave it a scornful glance and tossed it down. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

Reputation… Then the diamonds were not really a gift.

She felt relieved. She also felt sad. What was he trying to prove, and to whom? It seemed she had no choice but to wear them. It was in their rules. Hopefully it would make him happy.

But it would not stop her from feeling ridiculous.

Graydon took a deep breath and looked around his entrance hall with satisfaction. Everything about the house spoke of wealth and, more importantly, of success. When the ton saw his wife tonight, any doubts on that score would be put to rest. He would have restored his family name, restored his mother to her rightful place in Society and proved to all they’d been wrong to turn their backs in the first place.

While he had hoped to have a ball at Blackdown Hall at the end of the season, its lack would not be noted. He would hold it in the autumn, perhaps. All was going exactly as he’d hoped.

Then why did he keep seeing that look of panic in his wife’s eyes when he had placed the diamonds around her throat? Any other lady would have been thrilled to receive such a magnificent set. For her to say she looked ridiculous was nonsense. She would be the equal to any lady at Almack’s tonight.

And she would be the envy of all. He could not wait to see Eloise’s face when she saw those diamonds.

Light footsteps sounded on the stairs. He gestured to the butler to bring his wife’s wrap and went to the foot of them to await her arrival.

The diamonds glittered like fire as they caught the light of each wall sconce as she descended. Her face was set in regal calmness.

He frowned. She had done something to the necklace. Half of it was missing. Now only a single large drop hung low at its centre, seeming as if it would disappear between her lovely breasts. It teased his gaze with the promise of bounty as it drew the eye downward.

His gaze travelled upwards to her face. The tiara was unaltered, but tucked so deeply into the curls of her coiffure it seemed fragmented, the sparkles catching the eye and disappearing as she moved. She hesitated, her hand curling around the balustrade, as if expecting his anger. The bracelet caught the light. That she had left as he had placed it around her wrist.

He had spent a great deal of money on those diamonds. And she had reduced them almost to nothing.

She looked lovely. He had not noticed the gown when he’d visited her a few moments ago; he had been too intent on adorning her with a show of his wealth. The gown would have seemed almost puritanical, if it were not for the colour, and suited her diminutive size perfectly.

‘Your carriage awaits,’ Powell said, bowing.

Florence reached the bottom step.

He toyed with the idea of sending her back upstairs to repair the damage she had done to his plans. That was what his father would have done. He would have shown that he was master in his house and, more importantly, master of his wife. And he would have had no hesitation in embarrassing his wife in front of the servants.

He took a deep breath. He would not be like his father. And besides, he had timed their departure exactly to make the most impression by their entrance—late enough that all the important people would have assembled, but not too late to fully partake of the evening.

He signalled for the butler to help Florence into her cloak and they stepped out into the warm night and got going.

They rode in the carriage in silence. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but if it was to argue her case he did not want to hear it. She had deliberately defied his request and now was not the time for them to engage in a discussion about her wifely duties. Later would be soon enough.

They slowed when they neared their destination and joined the line of carriages waiting to drop off their passengers at the door. Soon it was their turn, and they alighted when the footman opened the carriage door.

Once inside, having gone separate ways to remove their outer raiment and change into their slippers, they rejoined each other in the hall. To his surprise, the one or two other ladies who had arrived at the same time were casting envious glances at his wife over their fans before making their way upstairs.

He took her arm and they walked up together. The maitre d’ greeted them like old acquaintances after taking their tickets, which his mother had secured for them. The buzz of conversation in the room seemed to quieten as they entered and then increase in volume. He could feel Florence’s hand tremble on his sleeve and he covered her gloved hand with his and gave it a light squeeze. She glanced up at him and smiled briefly.

It was one of those secretive smiles women often indulged in. It told him nothing, but her hand steadied, so he assumed he had imparted some sort of sense of support.

A moment later, his mother joined them. ‘My dear,’ she said to Florence, ‘You look magnificent. Those diamonds are just the thing for that gown.’ She turned to him. ‘Graydon, you did not mention you had purchased the Hart parure. They must have cost you a fortune. Personally, I would have advised against it.’

Astonished that she recognised the set and that she was against it, he frowned. ‘Why is that?’

‘Lady Hart was infamous for wearing the whole set as if she were attending a ball at court, hanging her wealth around her neck like the upstart cit she was. Terribly vulgar, the Harts. I hear they lost all their money during the South Sea bubble and have been trying to divest themselves of that set for years. After everyone had laughed at it so much, no one wanted it. I had no idea it could be separated in that way.’

‘Nor had I,’ he managed to choke out.