Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms 3)

“It came into the family by way of my great-great-grandmother.” There was a smile in Colin’s voice. “She wasn’t a Granville by birth.”

Belinda glanced up at him. “It’s lovely.” She swallowed. “I’ll need a moment to put it on.”

“No need,” he said, the words falling easily from his lips. “I’ll help you.”

She searched his gaze, and what she saw there sent her heart into deep beats.

Colin set the box down and removed the diamond sparkler. It gleamed with white fire in the light.

She held herself still as he leaned close.

The cool diamonds slid against her skin, and a moment later, Colin’s warm fingers touched her as he worked to fasten the jewelry at her neck.

Belinda felt her nipples tighten in reaction, and warmth pooled within her.

When his job was done, Colin paused, his lips hovering inches away from hers.

Her breath hitched in response.

They remained that way for only a fraction of a minute, but it seemed like forever.

“I’m looking forward to this evening,” Colin said huskily.

Yes. No, no. What was wrong with her?

He had her so confused and sexually aware that she couldn’t think straight.

Colin straightened and gave her a lopsided smile. “I believe I’ll let you deal with the matching earrings yourself.”

The spell was broken. Belinda took a step back.

In the next moment, Colin reached for another velvet box, she turned toward a nearby oval mirror and the housekeeper simultaneously walked in to announce that rain was threatening and umbrellas were advisable.

Soon after, Belinda and Colin departed for the party. The short drive was uneventful, and since this wasn’t her first social engagement with him, she soon found herself relaxing and enjoying the party when they arrived.

Two of Colin’s married cousins were present—parents of children that she’d entertained in the art room. After some awkward chitchat with her, they and their spouses appeared to lower their defenses—if only because she’d so effectively entertained the junior members of the family.

A little while later, she was turning away from a conversation with a British viscount and his wife when she spotted a familiar figure and froze.

Tod.

She was aghast.

She had no idea that he would be here tonight. She glanced over at Colin and realized that he had noted Tod’s presence, too.

Belinda stifled the impulse to bolt. She supposed it was inevitable that she and Colin would run into Tod at some point. London was not that big of a town. Still, did it have to be right now?

Tod approached her. “Lady Wentworth—or is it more proper to address you as Lady Granville?”

Within a moment, Colin had walked over to them and gave Tod a sharp nod of acknowledgment. “In either case, she is the Marchioness of Easterbridge.”

Belinda looked at Colin. Must he refer to the elephant in the room so bluntly? All three of them knew she remained Colin’s wife. Tod had asked a fair question given that she’d retained her maiden name and a number of people knew it.

Still, annoyed as she was with Colin, she couldn’t help comparing the two men as they stood side by side. Tod seemed somehow diminished in Colin’s presence. He was not quite as broad, but there was also a subtle distinction in bearing. Colin exuded power.

Of course, the physical differences were only part of the story. Tod had given in to familial pressure by heading to the altar with her. In contrast, Colin had eloped with her in Las Vegas, driven by passion and acting in careless defiance of what his family might have thought.

Tod turned toward her. “Would you like to dance?”