A Little Bit Wild (17 page)

The brightly colored crowd swirled before Jude like a flock of excited birds. He glared across the ballroom, unmoved by the lively sight.

He was too lost to appreciate the beauty of the scene. Lost in his unspoken worries that Harry could be behind this trouble. If it was Harry, the betrayal would break Marissa's heart.

But more than that, Jude was lost in his own past and the weight it pressed into his shoulders.

When he'd joined his father's ducal household, Jude had expected to feel like an outcast. Marginalized at the least, hated at worst. But he'd been pleasantly surprised by his welcome there. The duchess hadn't treated him like one of her own children, but she hadn't despised him either. As for his half brothers, he'd found two young boys who looked up to him as a large and foreign creature.

Much as the ladies of the ton did in his adulthood.

He could still remember that feeling of settling in at his father's home. He'd been homesick and heartbroken, but he'd also been relieved to have been so easily absorbed into the household.

He'd never lost that gratitude, he realized now. A courtesan's bastard was one thing, but a duke's bastard was another. Though he'd missed the warmth of his mother's home, and had luxuriated in it during the .summer months he'd spent with her, he'd appreciated the mantle of respect that had come with being his father's son.

That respect had afforded him the confidence that permeated every fiber of his being. The confidence that allowed him to move through the ton and feel equal.

Or so he'd always thought. But Marissa had exposed a secret knowledge that he was not quite equal. Perhaps not less than, but most definitely different. That was a secret he could expose to himself and eventually live with, but the knowledge that he still felt relieved to be accepted ... that was a bitter pill to swallow.

It was there in his attempt to seduce Marissa York into loving him. He saw now that seduction was simply a way to sneak beneath her defenses and trick her into feeling true affection. As if a lady would need to be fooled into taking him in.

He smiled bitterly and waited for her to circle around to his side of the dance floor again.

By God, she was a beauty. He told her so often, but he didn't think she realized that he wasn't speaking strictly of her looks. She was lively and smart and brave and passionate. And yes, a little shallow. But she'd been correct to tell him his pain wasn't her doing. That responsibility lay with him.

Sensing a presence at his side, Jude frowned to find Aidan there. "Is all in place?" Jude asked quietly.

"Yes. Edward has taken the first watch. I'm to meet him at the folly in an hour. Your turn will come next, then Edward again."

"We could be here all night."

"We could," Aidan agreed. Marissa appeared before them, her face slightly stiff as she danced a quadrille. "I'm getting the sense you've changed your mind about my sister. Will you call off?"

Jude shook his head.

"Well, you don't look like a man who's headed happily for the altar."

"Leave it. We argued. That's all."

"About Patience?"

"I said leave it!"

"For God's sake," Aidan muttered. "You're acting like a moon-eyed ass."

Jude gritted his teeth and glared so fiercely at the dancers that one gentleman shot him an alarmed look.

"In fact, you look almost as miserable as I was when I lost my... the woman I meant to marry."

Aidan never spoke of it, and the shock of hearing him talk of her swept some of Jude's mood away. "But she died," he said stupidly.

"Yes, but there was an argument. Before. We were estranged for a time... and then I never saw her again."

"Christ, I'm sorry."

Aidan rolled his shoulders as if loosening the memory from its hold. "Getting back to you—"

"I'd prefer not."

Aidan relented, finally, so they stood in companionably stony silence again, as good gentlemen of

the ton often did. After a time, Jude realized the dancers had changed partners, and he caught sight of the man on Marissa's arm. "Who's that?"

Aidan followed his gaze and his face went hard. "The infamous Charles LeMont."

"Bloody hell." Just as Jude had suspected, Marissa's first love was a slender reed of a man. His golden locks curled in a perfectly tousled mess. His face was pale and smooth as a girl's. What a damned joke. "He practically violated your sister. Are you just going to let him dance with her?"

"Are you?" Aidan drawled, and Jude could've sworn the gaslight in the room went red for a moment.

He breathed deeply and told himself that creating a scene in the ballroom would be even worse than whatever whispered rumors the blackmailer might spread.

"Edward pulled him aside as soon as we arrived. LeMont seemed appropriately clueless before his wife hurried over to ask after our ailing horse. And he certainly looks harmless."

He did, even to Jude's jaundiced eye. Pretty, he might be, but there was nothing rakish about him, and he touched Marissa only when the dance strictly called for it. Not that Jude ceased his scowling. She was dancing with her former lover, knowing Jude would see her, knowing he'd be jealous. In fact, at that very moment, Marissa's eyes met his across the room, and she stared hard at him, with not even a hint of an embarrassed blush on her cheeks.

And Charles LeMont had seen her thighs. That was more than Jude could claim.

Frustrated with himself, he turned and walked toward the hall without a word to Aidan. Jude had never believed jealousy an appropriate response to any situation. It was a useless exercise practiced by prideless men. Either a woman wanted you or she didn't. Either she'd be true or she wouldn't. No amount of worrying or raging would change that.

And yet, here he was, fretting over Marissa as if she were a toy he could possess.

He meant only to give himself some breathing room, perhaps have a glass of brandy to calm his nerves. But when he was only feet from escape, a woman stepped into his path, and Jude froze in shock.

"Hello, Jude," she said softly, her eyes crinkling in a smile.

"Corrine," he responded, as her name was the only thing making it through the churning shock of his mind.

"It's wonderful to see you."

"You've returned from Jamaica." Obviously.

"It was dreadfully hot there. I've no idea how my sister survives it." She sighed prettily.

A few heartbeats later and his mind was back in reasonable order. "Your sister and her family are well?"

She spoke a bit about the plantation she'd visited and what the island was like, while Jude tried to recover from the shock of seeing his former lover here, at a country ball in the middle of nowhere. Her black hair and brown eyes looked the same, but her skin had bronzed a bit on her journey, and she was thinner as well.

"I understand congratulations are in order," she finally said, her eyes falling to his chest as she shook her head. "I don't know why I'm surprised, but I am."

"Thank you. Have you not yet remarried? I was certain you'd meet a dashing ship's captain and sail the world with him."

She laughed with a familiar husky sound that had once been enough to swell his cock with anticipation. She was, objectively, an average-looking woman, but she lived life with such joy that she enchanted everyone she met.

Conine shook her head. "A ship's captain might make an ideal husband, actually, but I've yet to meet one who's dashing. I find them all rather grumpy and serious."

"Tragic."

"In the meantime, perhaps you will escort me for a dance. If your marriage is a happy one, this might be my last chance to insinuate myself into your arms. And I left so quickly for Jamaica that I already missed one last chance with you. I'd hate to miss this one as well."

There was a promise in those words, a hint that spoke of more than dancing. Jude offered a chagrined smile and began to excuse himself from the honor. He wasn't one to be led by his cock and didn't feel tempted, despite the current uncertainty of his and Marissa's future.

But he paused just before the words left his mouth. He remembered Marissa's steady look as she'd danced by in her former lover's arms.

"I'd be honored," he heard himself say as he bowed and offered his arm.

This was beneath him. Far beneath him. But as with his jealousy, he could taste the bitterness of it in his mouth, but he could not seem to spit it out.

He would dance with Conine, if only to tell himself that he hadn't lost this battle. But the war . . .

the war was another matter entirely. Either Marissa would carry on with her life, or they would marry and he'd have a wife who thought she'd married beneath her.

So knowing it would help nothing, Jude escorted Conine into the crowd just as a waltz began.

Breathless from the dancing, Marissa wound her way through the crowd to join Aidan and Jude. If she hadn't needed to speak with them, she might have avoided the men all night. Jude, at least, looked like an angry bull, anxious to gore at least a few of the guests before the evening was out. When she saw that Aidan stood alone, she wasn't surprised at the relief that loosened her muscles, but even then, she felt a pang of loss that she wouldn't be near Jude.

"Enjoying yourself, Marissa?" Aidan asked as he signaled a footman to bring a glass of champagne.

"I'm not sure how I could be. I only want this night to be over. Is Edward... ?"

"Yes. I'll be relieving him in half an hour or so."

"So there's been no word?"

"None."

The champagne arrived, but Marissa held it without taking a sip. "I danced with Charles."

"So I saw. Jude and I wondered if you were trying to tempt one of us to violence."

She rolled her eyes. "Charles is harmless. Which is what I wanted to tell you. The only topic he broached was his wife's pregnancy. He's elated. There was not even a hint of awkwardness between us. I'm sure it's not him."

"Perhaps he was hoping to wound you, speaking of the child he will have with another woman."

"No, I'm sure that wasn't it. He spoke of his wife with great affection. In the past, there was some tension between us, as if Charles was remembering our previous affection each time we met. But that's gone now. Or perhaps I am changed .... I don't know."

"Are you changed?" he asked.

She shook her head, unable to answer the question. Was she changed, or was she only cowed by all that had happened in the past month?

As she contemplated that question, Marissa caught sight of a familiar set of shoulders moving through the crowd. For a split second, she could not reconcile that they were Jude's shoulders, only because he was surrounded by dancers. But yes, Jude was dancing, and as he spun in time to the slow and sensual waltz, his partner came into view.

The woman was a stranger, which was another odd shock after the intimate confines of the hunting season. Her black hair was lovely and her brown eyes warm, but her face was unremarkable otherwise. At any other time in her life, Marissa would hardly have noticed her at all. Certainly, she would've sniffed at the idea of being threatened by her.

But this woman, plain or not, glowed with...
knowledge.
She moved with the rhythm of the music as if her body were a mystery only she understood. She knew the power of her large eyes and used them to full effect. And she knew Jude. Intimately. Marissa could see this with no effort at all. Patience Wellingsly had looked at Jude as if she wanted him.

But this woman looked as if she'd had him and knew she would have him again.

It was there in the secret tilt of her lips and the wicked quirk of one eyebrow. It was there in the curve of her fingers around his arm. Not tight and grasping, but easy and light. She laughed up at him, and Jude smiled.

That smile. That crooked half smile he saved for Marissa. He gave that stranger the smile that never ceased to make Marissa's heart skip a beat, and when the woman turned her head to the side, his eyes slid down her throat.

Everything inside Marissa's body went cold, even as her skin inched toward a burn.

Aidan said something, but she couldn't make out his words. "Pardon?''

"I asked if you wanted something else to drink."

"No, it's fine." To distract him, she sipped her drink as she watched Jude and his partner disappear into the crowd. She was left with watching the other dancers, just as she'd spent countless hours watching before. But tonight, the dancers seemed ... shifted. Different in a subtle way. A year ago, she would only have seen the handsome gentlemen who showed a fine leg as they bowed through the moves of the country dances. Or the occasional lady whose dress Marissa coveted. She'd see the charming smiles and elegant hands. She'd mark the most beautiful couples and count them the luckiest.

But tonight, she saw the underpinnings of it all, like the sketch marks left under a watercolor painting, not meant to be seen, but caught with a close look.

There, to the right, a handsome young man danced with perfect grace, but he looked over the head of his beaming partner, not interested in her round, Hushed face. A common enough scene, but made more tragic by the fact that they were newly married in a match necessitated by debts. The bride was happy. The groom made no bones about his dissatisfaction. He wanted everyone to know.