Innocent in the Regency Ballroom. Christine Merrill

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Innocent in the Regency Ballroom - Christine Merrill


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‘It is more economical to dine at home,’ she offered.

      He raised an eyebrow and said, ‘I imagine it is on such nights as the servants are engaged. My kitchen is most fine. You will know that soon enough. But remember, I have released the staff for the evening. You may go back, if you wish, and explain to them that economy requires they return to work.’

      She gave a small shake of her head.

      ‘I thought not. In the future, you may dine at home, as you wish. But do not be terribly surprised if I do not join you there, for I prefer society to peace and quiet. And tonight, we will dine out to celebrate the nuptials. That is only natural, is it not?’

      She nodded hesitantly.

      ‘I thought you would agree.’ He smiled again, knowing that he was once more without opposition and gave directions to the driver.

      On entering the restaurant, they were led by the head waiter to a prominent spot with the faintest murmur of ‘your Grace’. Penny was conscious of the eyes of the strangers around them, tracking them to their table.

      Her husband’s head dipped in her direction. ‘They are wondering who you are.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ She could feel the blood draining from her face and a lightness in her head as the weight of all the eyes settled upon her.

      ‘My dear, you look quite faint.’ He seemed genuinely concerned. ‘Wine will restore you. And food and rest.’ He signalled the waiter. ‘Champagne, please. And a dinner fit for celebration. But nothing too heavy. ‘When his glass was filled, he raised it in toast to her. ‘To my bride.’

      The waiter took in the faintest breath of surprise, as did a woman at a nearby table, who had overheard the remark.

      ‘Shh,’ Penny cautioned. ‘People are taking notice.’

      ‘Let them,’ Adam said, taking a sip. ‘While you packed, I arranged for an announcement in tomorrow’s Times. It is not as if it is to be a secret.’

      ‘I never thought …’

      ‘That you would tell anyone besides the bank that you had wed?’

      ‘That anyone would care,’ she said.

      ‘I have no idea what people might think of your marriage,’ he responded. ‘But if I marry, all of London will care.’

      She took a gulp of her own wine. ‘That is most conceited of you, sir.’

      ‘But no less true.’

      ‘But there must be a better way to make the world aware than sitting in the middle of a public place and allowing the world to gawk at us,’ she whispered.

      He smiled. ‘I am sorry. Have I done something to shame you, Penelope?’

      ‘Of course not. We barely know—’

      He cut her off before she could finish the sentence. ‘Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You are the Duke of Bellston. Why would I be embarrassed?’

      ‘Then I fail to understand why we should not be seen dining together, in a public place. It is not as if I do not wish my wife at my side.’

      She was readying the argument that, of course, he would not wish to dine with her. He was a duke, and she was a nobody. And he was every bit as beautiful as she was plain. And if he meant to embarrass her by showing the world the fact …

      And then she looked at the way he was smiling at her. It was a kind smile, not full of passion, but containing no malice. And she imagined what it would be like, if he had dropped her at the townhouse, and gone on his merry way. Perhaps he would mention casually to some man at a club that he had wed. And there would be a small announcement in the papers.

      People would wonder. And then, someone would see her, and nod, and whisper to others that it was obvious why the duke chose to leave his wife alone. When the most attractive feature was a woman’s purse, you hardly need bring her along to enjoy the benefit.

      Or, they could be seen in public for a time, and people might remark on the difference between them. But they would not think that the eventual separation of the two was a sign that he had packed her off to the country out of shame.

      He watched as the knowledge came home to her. ‘People will talk, Penny. No matter what we do. But there are ways to see that they speak aloud, and then lose interest. It is far less annoying, I assure you, than the continual whispering of those who are afraid to give voice to their suspicions.’

      The plates arrived, and he offered her a bite of lobster on the end of his fork. ‘Relax. Enjoy your dinner. And then we will go home.’

      She took it obediently and chewed, numb with shock. Home. Together. With him. The thoughts that flitted across her mind were madness. After the rough start in Scotland, her new husband was proving to be almost too perfect. In the space of a few hours, he had gained for her everything she could have wished. And now, if he would only let her go home and seclude herself in that horrible pink room before she said something foolish … If he insisted on staring at her as he had been with those marvellous blue eyes, and feeding her from his own plate as though she were a baby bird, who could blame her if she forgot that the need for familiarity was a sham, and began to think that deeper emotions were engaged.

      There was a very subdued commotion at the entrance to the room, and Adam looked up. ‘Aha. I knew news would travel quickly. But I had wondered how long it would take.’

      A man strode rapidly toward them, weaving between the tables to where they sat. He noticed the space, set for two, and turned to the nearest empty table, seizing a chair and pulling it forward to them, seating himself between Penny and the duke. Then he looked at Adam and said, without preamble, ‘When did you mean to inform me? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be at one’s club, enjoying a whisky and minding one’s own business, only to have the man holding the book demanding that I pay my wagers on the date of your marriage? Of course I insisted that it was nonsense, for there was no way that such a thing would have occurred without my knowledge.’

      Adam laughed. ‘Ah, yes. I had forgotten the wagers.’ He looked sheepishly at Penny. ‘I stand to lose a fair sum of money on that as well. I had bet against myself marrying within the year.’

      Gambling, again. And losing. Another confirmation of her suspicions. ‘You bet against yourself?’

      He shrugged. ‘I needed the money, and thought it must be a sure thing. But when I found you, darling, I quite forgot—’

      ‘Darling?’ the man next to her snapped. ‘So it’s true, then? You ran off to Scotland to get a wife, and told me nothing?’

      ‘It did not occur to me until after,’ Adam answered. ‘Penny, may I present your brother-in-law, Lord William Felkirk. William, Penelope, my wife, the new duchess of Bellston.’

      William stared at her, reached for his brother’s wine glass and drained it.

      William was a younger version of her husband. Not so handsome, perhaps, but he had a pleasant face, which would have been even more pleasant had it not been frozen in shock by the sight of her. Penny attempted a smile and murmured, ‘How do you do?’

      Will continued to stare at her in silence.

      Adam smiled in her direction with enough warmth for both of them, and then looked back to his brother. ‘Manners, Will. Say hello to the girl.’

      ‘How do you do?’ Will said without emotion.

      ‘Penny is the heiress to a printer, here in London. We met when I was travelling.’

      She could see the alarm in his eyes at the word printer, followed by a wariness. He examined her closely, and glanced from her to his brother. ‘You were not long in the north, Adam. The trip lasted less than a week. Your marriage was most unexpected.’

      ‘To us as well.’


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