Why the devil should he care if she was the sort to turn her back on their intimacy and go to another’s bed? Why should he bother?
A moment later he cantered up the sandy hill to the road so he was alongside the parked phaeton. He tipped his hat and called out a jovial greeting.
He caught the look that came into Babs’ eyes, and it sucked the breath out of his lungs. He was dashed finished, he told himself. He had his answer to his questions.
He urged his horse to her side of the vehicle as he gave Sir Edward a perfunctory nod and took his hat off to Babs. “To the Lady Babs,” he said quietly. “May I extend my congratulations and wish you happy?”
Her face froze with shock as she turned and stared at Sir Edward and seemed to make up her mind. “If that is what you wish to do,” she said on a defeated note.
“Babs, sweetheart … what is this?” He spoke only to her, heedless that Sir Edward’s face had taken on color.
She brought those luscious, dark eyes of hers up to his face and silently implored him for help. How could he help her when he didn’t know why she had accepted to marry Sir Edward—especially after their lovemaking?
“You see, Nick … sometimes we appear to be what we are not. Sometimes we must do not what we want, but what we must, and those of us that can … make the best of it.” She said this last with a catch in her throat, and the duke had the very strong urge to take Sir Edward by the throat and strangle him.
“This is all very touching,” Sir Edward interjected dryly. “But I must see my lady home.” He nodded curtly and whipped his horses off.
Lord Wildfire sat his horse and watched them draw away down the avenue. Lady Babs turned once and cast him a soulful look. Something in the droop of her shoulders seemed to suggest she was acknowledging defeat.
What did all this mean? Was she being constrained to marry Sir Edward? Was Ned offering such a price to her father that he could not refuse in the face of his debts?
No, by damn, she wasn’t marrying Ned—or anyone else for that matter!
Eighteen
LADY BABS LOOKED around the Alvanleys’ ballroom with a heavy sigh. She had been thinking long and hard about doing just what she had told Sir Edward she would do. She would approach the Prince …
Brighton was ablaze with the hedonistic ton. The seaside town had been brought into fashion by the Prince Regent when he chose it for his Royal Pavilion, and he was very prominent at the moment with his collection of intimates surrounding him.
Otto stood at Bab’s side, pointing out first one and then another woman who had chosen to wear a gown he found appalling. She managed to laugh and told him he was very naughty, but her heart wasn’t in it as she scanned the crowd of guests for but one person.
Otto led her onto the floor, but as they were continually bumped by other dancers, he took her hand and led her off. “You will be bruised trying to dance with that squeeze of people bumping us at every turn …”
Babs smiled absently up at him, happy for his company, which Sir Edward seemed resigned to allow.
Otto touched her chin. “You are very lovely. Your choice of gown, the white with the black embroidery at the bodice, is very fetching and suits you with its simplicity.”
“Does it,” she said automatically. “That is nice.”
“Dash it, Babs, what the deuce is wrong?”
“Wrong? Why, Otto what could be wrong?”
“My question—you have but to answer.”
He was her dear, sweet friend. Most people would not have noticed her distress, she told herself. Could she confide in Otto? Should she burden him with such a secret? He would take her part. He would rage and fume, but in the end … what could he do?
“Nothing is wrong … perhaps I am tired from the long, boring day.” She patted his arm.
He was not convinced. “You do not fool me, Babs … something is wrong, and you are not tired … pale, yes, but tired, no.”
“Stop it, do, or you shall have me worried about my appearance, and then something will be wrong.” She allowed him a bright smile; though she had wanted to give him a laugh, she was unable to summon one.
Sir Edward approached and won a dark frown from Otto.
“May I lead you out for a dance …?” Sir Edward ignored the count as he spoke softly to Babs.
She lowered her gaze and put her hand on his extended forearm.