Lord Garson’s Bride (Dashing Widows 7)

He laughed. “That doesn’t count with husbands, sweetheart. The world knows I’ve well and truly compromised you.” Under the cover of the back of her chair, he trailed his hand down her spine and briefly cupped the lush roundness of her rump. She shivered with sensuous enjoyment as he slowly drew away. He’d like to do more but damn it, they were in public. “Just in case you’re not sure about that, shall I compromise you again when I get you home?”

“Yes, please.” She leaned forward, eyes alight. “Would it cause a scandal if I kissed you?”

“Do I care?”

“Behave yourself, you two,” Helena said from behind them. Garson had been so focused on Jane, he hadn’t heard the door click open as the Wests returned.

“Killjoy,” he muttered, but he sat back and drank some more champagne. “How are the Kinglakes?”

“Avid with curiosity about Jane. They were most put out that you introduced her to us first. I’ve asked Sally to tea on Friday, Jane. Would you like to come? Sally’s great fun, and she’ll have plenty to talk about, as they’ve just spent the winter in Rome.”

“Are there any Caravaggios left south of the Alps, or did Charles buy them all?” Garson asked.

West smiled. “I gather the Kinglake art collection has a number of impressive new additions.”

Garson turned to Jane. “Charles Kinglake has a famous art collection. We must go and see their new pictures while we’re in Town.”

“And Charles asked if Jane will save him a contredanse at the ball.”

“That’s a relief,” Jane said. “I was afraid nobody will dance with me. Now I have Hugh and West and Sir Charles.”

Helena’s snort was dismissive. “My dear, don’t waste time worrying about sitting on the sidelines. When the beau monde get a look at you in that red dress, you’ll need a whip to beat off the eager partners.”

*

Chapter Twenty-Seven

*

Helena’s remark proved prophetic.

From the moment Jane set foot in the Oldhams’ lavishly decorated ballroom, she felt like the heroine in a fairy story. At the theatre, she’d caught a glimpse of the ton en fête, but nothing prepared her for the sophisticated, stylish, glittering crowd jammed into this huge white and gold space. She entered a magical place, where violins played sweet music, the scent of lilies and orchids filled the air, and jewels sparkled like legendary treasures.

She’d been grateful to Helena for introducing her to Madame Lisette. But on this, her first foray into high society, she came to understand quite what a massive favor her friend had done her. The deep red dress clung to her body in a way that had made her self-conscious in the shop. She’d protested at how low it was cut across her bosom, but the others had talked her out of choosing something more modest. Her courage had received its reward when Hugh’s eyes lit up at the sight of her before they left Half Moon Street. For a few fraught seconds, she’d wondered if he meant to escort her to the ball, or whisk her into bed.

The red should clash horribly with her hair, but even Jane recognized that the color was superb on her. It made her look like a sensually confident woman, instead of a frightened girl. It made her look the way she felt when she lay in Hugh’s arms and until this moment, had never felt anywhere else.

Still, Cinderella must have been nervous before that fateful ball. So was Jane. She couldn’t help contrasting herself with the drab, careworn creature she’d been at Cavell Court. That sad woman would never put on such a flamboyant gown and set out to stake her proper place in the world.

Butterflies swooped and dipped in her stomach when she ventured into the ballroom at Hugh’s side. Then she lifted her chin and summoned all her pride. She was Cedric Norris’s daughter, with a bloodline going back to the Norman Conquest. She was Hugh Rutherford’s wife. She had every right to join this daunting new milieu.

Even without her new friends’ warnings, she’d known that she’d be the cynosure of all eyes. Not only was she a new face, and the daughter of an earl, but she was also Lord Garson’s bride. It was soon apparent that the denizens of this brilliant world held Hugh in high esteem. The woman he chose was of abiding interest, not just because of the old scandal with Morwenna, but because people were genuinely fond of him. Everyone she met expressed the warmest good wishes for her happiness.

Sooner than she’d dreamed was possible, her terror subsided, and she started to enjoy herself. All night, gentlemen besieged the new Lady Garson, wishing to dance with her. She’d thought Hugh was being kind, when he reserved two dances ahead of time, but soon she was glad he had. Because flattering as it was to have all these elegant fellows clamoring for her attention, the only man in this throng who meant a jot to her was her husband.

Now at last it was time for the supper dance. She thanked her most recent partner, Sir Charles Kinglake, and turned to watch Hugh approach, tall and striking in his somber black. To her mind, her husband was the handsomest man here, with his classic features and chiseled jaw. His face reflected his character and goodness. Her heart did one of those strange little somersaults, as she reminded herself she was married to this magnificent man.

He smiled with the mixture of tenderness and affection that always turned her brain to custard. Her heart stopped flipping like a landed trout. In fact, it stopped altogether. The chatter and music and frenetic activity receded into a strange, echoing silence, so when her heart stumbled back to life, all she heard was the throb of blood in her ears.

“Has my wife got time to dance with her poor, neglected husband?” he asked, holding out one white-gloved hand.

“I might be able to fit you in,” she said lightly, curling her fingers around his.

When Sir Charles bowed, the candles cast a sheen over his golden hair. “Garson, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your marriage and wish you both well. Lady Garson is utterly delightful.”

“Thank you, Sir Charles.” To her surprise, she didn’t sound flustered. In fact, she sounded as though she was accustomed to spectacular gentlemen calling her delightful.

She had a brief recollection of the dull, lonely life she’d planned for herself after her father’s death. Instead of respectable and stultifying spinsterhood in some shabby seaside resort, here she was at the heart of society, being treated like a princess and making wonderful new friends. What a lot she owed to Hugh. He really was her knight in shining armor.