Claiming His Wife (Domestic Discipline 4)

"Ladies and their ribbons," Alex said teasingly back to her, his heart lightening. It was an old retort, teasing words exchanged more than once back when he'd started courting her. Grace had asked him to go shopping with her and he'd made some kind of pompous remark about ladies always needing new ribbons; she'd tossed her head and haughtily informed him that she was going to New Market to choose a new horse, but if he wanted ribbons she would send him out with her mother so he would at least be educated in choosing the best.

That was the day Alex had decided he was going to marry her.

A gentleman Grace had met earlier that evening, Mr. Lowell, interrupted just then, asking Grace to dance. Somewhat in a daze, she accepted, looking over her shoulder at Alex as Mr. Lowell led her away. Alex's eyes were trained on her, watching her walk away.

She hadn't expected him to remember that old repartee. It had fallen from her lips before she'd thought about it, sparked by the conversation, and she'd thought it a mistake even before she'd finished saying the words. But then Alex had responded. He'd remembered.

That had surprised her even more than his appearance by her side at the end of the dance. She'd thoroughly expected him to remain with the blonde beauty he'd ended up dancing with. After all, he'd been hanging on Grace all night and he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted. When she'd first seen him take to the floor, her heart had dropped somewhere around the vicinity of her feet. She thought that by accepting Marbury's invitation, that her action had spurred Alex to seek out another companion.

Even though she'd tried to tell herself she was glad that he'd gotten the message, it had still hurt.

Then he'd reappeared at her side, the blonde nowhere in sight, as aggressively possessive as he had been earlier in the evening. Even though she tried to remain aloof, how could such attention not turn her head, just a little? Then, to know that he'd remembered such a simple little thing from before... a tiny joke between them that she'd have bet he would have forgotten. Such little interactions had meant something to her, but what could they have meant to him?

Yet he'd remembered.

For the rest of the night, Grace was utterly taken aback. Alex danced with woman after woman, just as she did with the men who came to ask her, but he always returned to her side after each set. Without the lady in question on his arm. And he never danced with a single one twice.

Except for Grace. He claimed every single waltz with her, apparently content to dance with her held close, even though they didn't exchange a word between them. She truly didn't know what to say.

Chapter 6

"But what do I do?" Grace whispered into Eleanor's ear.

They were doing their best not to catch the Countess' eye while she went into raptures, showing them the ballroom as it was being decorated for the wedding. The event was two days away and Cynthia looked like she was reaching the end of her patience, but Grace was too wrapped up in her own issues to help with that. Besides, the Countess had her arm firmly wrapped around Cynthia's. It would be like trying to detach a leech. A well-meaning, motherly, and completely wedding-crazed leech.

"You could always try giving him another chance, he might surprise you," Eleanor whispered back, glancing over to make sure that they weren't being watched. They were, but only by Cynthia, who was gazing at them beseechingly as the Countess directed one of the footmen to raise the valances another foot. They both looked back at her with sympathy and shook their heads.

She stuck out her tongue at them and Eleanor giggled. Even Grace smiled, although she was currently feeling far too rattled to truly feel any humor. Eleanor kept pushing her to give her marriage another chance, to take Alex at face value - again. The worst part was, Grace could feel herself weakening and wanting to do exactly that.

But if Eleanor was wrong, and Alex was only using her again, Grace didn't know if her heart could take it.

Irene looked over at them curiously. She'd been following the Countess through the ballroom much closer than Grace or Eleanor had. Probably conditioned to follow closely by that harpy mother of hers, poor thing. Lately Grace had been tempted to talk to Irene, wondering if she might have any insights into Alex's behavior. After all, she had known him the longest. But, even though there was some obvious cooling of untoward affection between them, she was sure that Irene's loyalty remained to Alex. She didn't know if she could trust Irene to keep her confidence.

The doors on the far side of the room opened, and the Earl peered in, looking around. His mother saw him immediately and started half-dragging Cynthia across the room, stopping mid-tirade as she barreled towards her son, her voice rising as she neared him.

"Wesley! There you are! What do you have to say for yourself, sirrah? I cannot belie

ve your behavior last night!"

"Oh dear," Eleanor murmured under her breath, holding her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggle as Wesley's friends abandoned ship and left him to the tender mercies of the Countess.

Apparently, Wesley had taken Cynthia out to the gardens at the dance last night and had rendered her into such a state of disarray that they'd had to make a hasty trip home. The Countess was infuriated, although she hadn't shown it before, as she put the blame solely on her son's broad shoulders. Cynthia appeared fascinated by the diatribe, while everyone else displayed varying degrees of amusement. Grace coughed to cover her own laughter, and she couldn't help catching Alex's gaze. For one delightful, pure moment, they looked at each other, laughter filling their eyes. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful when he smiled.

Then the moment was over, and Grace pulled her gaze away. She couldn't drop her guard too much. Not yet.

If only she could find a way to test him, to discover what his motivations were. Perhaps she should search the study of their current residence, see if he had any of his business papers. They might hold a clue. Or his correspondence. Something to tell her why he might need a wife by his side, or her as his wife in particular.

In the meantime... perhaps there were other ways of ascertaining just how serious he was. Her scandalous reputation didn't appear to currently bother him, but what if she was seen as being even more so? After all, he was intent on reining her in, and everyone now knew it, and if she refused to let him, perhaps he'd find her too embarrassing to hold on to. Especially if his reasons had to do with business. She had thought she'd already broken the line of what a man would be willing to tolerate before divorce, but perhaps she hadn't gone quite far enough.

And, if by some miracle, he held on to her no matter what she did... then perhaps she would have her answer.

******

His wife was drunk.

At a dinner party.

Unfortunately, one that included more than just their close friends. The Countess had invited quite a few guests into her home, to celebrate Wesley and Cynthia's upcoming nuptials. Fortunately, Grace was far enough down the table from their hostess that the Countess hadn't noticed and so wasn't distressed, especially since she was more focused on ensuring her son and his fiancé behaved, but quite a few people at Grace's end of the table were already shooting her glances and whispering behind their hands.