An Undomesticated Wife (10 page)

That is the very reason I have no interest in learning
, she was tempted to retort. She could not show her childish thoughts. So far the dowager duchess had been her ally, a very valuable ally. She suspected that the duke was terrified of his imposing mother, and she suspected, as well, that the dowager duchess liked the situation exactly as it was.

Marcus was the piece of the puzzle that she could not extricate from the confusion of this new life among the
ton
. Again her father's voice rang in her ears.

Until you know if a man is your friend or enemy, you must treat him with cautious camaraderie. If he is to be your friend, he will appreciate your sense of trust in him. If he is an enemy, he will come to respect you
.

“But what if he is a husband?” she longed to ask. She had thought of putting the words in a letter to her father, but she had no idea if a letter could leave this household unread by anyone but herself. Until she was more sure, she must refrain from seeking her father's advice.

Instead, she said aloud, “You can teach me about the household while we are riding.”

“Very well,” the dowager duchess replied with a smile. “I see you have inherited your father's ability to charm anyone into giving you your way.”

“Almost anyone.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, but the words had slipped out.

Regina was stunned when the dowager duchess did not reply. This was quite a surprise. She hoped it was the only one today.

Hyde Park was a tapestry of riders and flowers against the background of lush trees and the Serpentine. A playful breeze teased the branches, setting them to caressing one another. It was a day made for conversations and flirtations.

Regina could not hide her delight with the glorious colors appearing from beneath each copse. The few flowers they had had in their garden in Algiers could not compare with this riotous color. Keeping the dowager duchess busy naming the flowers was far more interesting than hearing about which wine was served with which course at dinner. She quickly discovered that the dowager duchess was more interested in pointing out the people they passed and sharing any hint of gossip that might be attached to them.

“Shame on him!” the old woman said as she stared at a distinguished-looking gentleman who was chatting with an elegant woman sitting in a small carriage. “Doesn't he know that she has set her cap on Lord Roth? He is wasting his time trying to get that light-skirts's attention. He should be thinking of his wife, who will be giving birth to his child before the end of the month.”

Unsure what to say, for to speak honestly would be to condemn Marcus along with this man, Regina sought the proper, noncommittal reply. “Your Grace, I think—”

“Regina! Is it you?”

A blond man jumped down from his horse. Rushing to the carriage, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. He smiled broadly, reminding her of the pranks they had enjoyed among the halls of the courts around the Dey's palace. Although he wore a brown riding coat instead of the uniform he had always worn in Algiers, he was little changed otherwise. The bushy mustache that nearly covered his upper lip was not
à la mode
, she now knew, but she could not imagine Benjamin Sheldon without it.

“I did not know that you were garrisoned in London now.” Recalling her manners, she added, “Benjamin, this is the Dowager Duchess of Attleby …” She realized she had no idea what the dowager duchess's given name was.

“Your Grace,” he said with a perfect bow toward her.

“This is Major Benjamin Sheldon.”

“Retired,” he said, chuckling. “It is just
Mr
. Sheldon now.”

“Retired?” gasped Regina. “But why?”

“I found that I was tired of taking orders from men I could not respect.” His smile returned as he added, “Now I answer to whom I choose.”

“How do you do,
Mr
. Sheldon?” The dowager duchess smiled warmly. “I can assume by your conversation that you and my granddaughter-in-law are acquaintances of long standing.”

His gaze darted back to Regina. “Granddaughter-in-law? You have married? Why have I heard nothing of this?”

Regina felt heat oozing along her cheeks as she said, “My marriage was by proxy, and my husband's family has asked Lord Daniston and me to be remarried here in two weeks. Until that time—”

“We are in somewhat of a flux,” the dowager duchess interrupted smoothly. “There has been no announcement of the wedding in the paper, as you can understand. Of course, by this time, rumor has wafted from mouth to mouth throughout the Polite World, and we have endeavored to soothe the questions with the truth.”

Regina glanced at the dowager duchess, wondering what had been said out of her hearing. How many times had Papa told her to be observant of everything and everyone around her? She was letting her despair blind her to what was happening.

“I hope an old friend will be welcome to give you a look-in,” Benjamin said, seeming to overcome his shock more quickly than she had.

“Of course,” said Regina.

“Of course,” echoed a voice that sent a familiar rush of anticipation rippling through her.

She clutched the edge of the carriage as she turned to see Marcus standing behind them. With the sun glinting with blue fire off his ebony hair and highlighting the gold waistcoat beneath his sedate coat, he was the picture of debonair refinement. His riding boots accented the strength of his legs. A sleek phaeton was waiting at the side of the road, and she recognized it as the one that had driven away from Mme. LaPorte's after the unfortunate meeting there last week.

Falling back on habit, she let the aplomb that had carried her through many strained meetings in Algiers absorb her. She was even able to smile as she said, “Lord Daniston, allow me to present Mr. Benjamin Sheldon. Benjamin, this is my … husband.”

She blushed as she hesitated on the word, but Benjamin came to her rescue by holding out his hand and saying, “You are a lucky man, Daniston.”

“So I have been told.”

Benjamin glanced at her, but she fought to keep her face emotionless. His smile seemed labored as he said, “I shall call soon, Regina.”

“Yes,” she said, “Please do that.”

As Benjamin mounted and rode off along the path, the dowager duchess clapped her gloved hands together. “Marcus, it is a delight to see you. Of course, my dear boy, I shall not keep you from taking your wife for a drive about the Park.” She smiled, but the set of her chin warned that she would not accept an argument.

“Grandmother—”

“You do not need this old bag of wretched bones playing watchdog for you.” She motioned for him to open the door and help Regina out. “After all, not worrying about a small indiscretion is one of the benefits of being able to court Regina while you are wed to her.”

“Madam?” He held up his hand.

Regina put her fingers out and tried to quell the flood of pleasure as his hand swallowed her smaller one. She was making a great cake of herself by letting his undeniably masculine allure beguile her. Being cautious and sensible during this ride must be her major concern.

The thick seats of the phaeton were more comfortable than she had expected of such a fleet vehicle. Even though the velvet welcomed her to lean back and enjoy more views of the Park, she sat on the very edge of the seat while Marcus picked up the reins.

His mouth was set in a straight line, and his shoulders were as unmoving as if they had been sculpted of marble. As he drove deeper into the Park, he said nothing.

When the silence between them became unbearable, Regina said, “If you are wondering, Benjamin is Papa's friend.”

“And yours?” he asked in a clipped voice.

“Yes, although I have not seen Benjamin in many years.” She tried to relax against the seat as she prepared for his exasperation to overflow. It must be exasperation. It could be nothing else … certainly not jealousy.

“Have you no female friends?”

Mayhap a bit of jealousy
, which was a surprisingly pleasing thought. Yet she must be honest. “What opportunity would I have had to meet other women? They all were sequestered in the seraglio.”

“Not the Englishwomen.”

“Of which there were few.” She gazed across the gloriously green park. Looking at Marcus, who was frowning, she added, “Most of the Englishwomen left nearly as soon as they reached Algiers. I can understand why they pined for England now. This is a splendid place.”

“It is clearly different from Algiers.”

She did not pretend to misunderstand. “Do you wish me to rescind my invitation to Benjamin to give us a look-in?”

“I would prefer that you delay such calls until after the wedding.”

Her fingers curled into fists on her lap as she raised her chin. “I had not expected my husband to tell me whom I could have as friends. Nor would I feel that I should choose his.”

“I do not wish to speak of Jocelyn.”

Although she flinched at his easy use of his mistress's name when he avoided using hers, Regina said, “I have no desire to speak of Mrs. Simpson either. I was speaking of
friends.
” Her eyes widened. “If you mean to insinuate that Benjamin and I have been lovers, I can assure—” She gasped as the carriage rocked to a sudden stop in the shadow of a group of trees.

Marcus grasped her by the shoulders. Pulling her to him, he wrapped one arm around her to keep her from edging away. “You need not reassure me on that matter, for I am certain he has not enjoyed that intimacy with you.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” His voice softened to a husky warmth, astonishing her. One moment, he was furious with her; the next, the craving she had discovered in his kiss sifted into his words.

“How?”

He kissed her right cheek, then her left one, before teasing the tip of her nose with a light kiss. “Sheldon seems to have a modicum of sense about him. No man with any sense would get involved with an impossible woman like you.”

“But you are married to me.”

“Not of my own choice,” he whispered as he trailed moist sparks along her throat.

She closed her eyes and let him draw her so close that her body was molded along the hard planes of his chest. Stroking his back with one hand, she swept her other hand up through his thick hair, letting each strand caress her as he sought within her mouth for the delight she could not deny him. Bold, his tongue taught hers a sweet dance, every touch sending molten fire into her very depths. As her breath mixed with his, she longed to be even closer to him, to explore the full realm of this rapture.

“Dash it!” he muttered as he raised his mouth from hers. “Why did I agree to these three damnably interminable weeks before we consummate this marriage?”

“I don't know,” she answered, tracing a wavy path between the buttons in the center of his waistcoat. “Why did you?”

“When I figure that out, you shall be the first to know.” His smile vanished as his lips covered hers again.

Knowing that she would hate herself later for surrendering to him, she gave every bit of herself to the kiss. At this moment, when she was enveloped in his arms, she was sure every dream she had could come true … or be destroyed.

Eight

“I think things are going well, don't you?” asked the dowager duchess as she took a sip of her coffee.

Marcus nearly choked on his. Going well? This travesty of a marriage? “Grandmother, your continuing optimism is amazing.”

“Now, now, my dear Marcus,” she chided as she tapped the newspaper the duke was reading to get his attention and include him in the conversation, “you cannot say that your visit to the Park a couple of days ago was not a success. I have heard—Oh, dear me, how I have heard!—how wondrously matched you and Regina seemed as you enjoyed an outing in the Park.”

“She is astonished with the most commonplace things.” He hoped his answer would cover the thud of desire that struck him like a gentleman of the fist when he recalled the flavor of Regina's tempting lips.

“True.” The dowager duchess rang the silver bell by her side and motioned for their coffee cups to be replenished. “She was quite nonplussed when I spoke to Mr. Pennant. I could see no good reason for the man to dally in the center of the square, and I informed him of that fact. Quite politely, I would say, although I am sure you would not question that fact. Mr. Pennant seemed to take my words well.”

Marcus sat straighter upon hearing the name he had never expected to be spoken at the breakfast table, but his father spoke first. “Who is Mr. Pennant?”

“Grandmother,” Marcus said when she simply smiled, “you should know better than to approach a stranger and reprimand him.”

“He left.”

The duke chuckled under his breath. “I would guess the man saw no reason to stay and suffer your scolds, Mother.”

“Idle hands are—”

“Troublesome,” Marcus grumbled at the comment he had heard too often throughout his life.

“What did you say?” the dowager duchess asked. “You must speak up, my boy. Mumbling is a most unpleasant habit.”

Marcus forced a smile. “I said I was pleased that the man is not tarrying here. We have no need for more trouble.”

Again the duke interjected, “I am sure the man has found suitable tasks elsewhere. I think we need worry about him no longer.”

“Worry about whom?” asked Regina as she entered the breakfast parlor.

Marcus stood to escort her to her chair but found his feet secured to the floor. He stared. He could not help himself. From the beginning he had admired his wife's loveliness, but she looked exquisite in a gown decorated with stripes as jade as her eyes. The stripes ran the length of her dress, drawing his gaze to the high waistline accented by ruffles across her breasts. She did look as fresh and winsome as a spring morning.