A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy 2)

And all of this was highly important because he didn’t want any lingering, pernicious gossip to reach his wife.

He walked to Ophelia and offered his arm. He knew many watched as she accepted his invitation with a smile. There was a time he would have been beside himself with excitement and anguish, to even be this close to her. He’d been caught up in a spell of his own making; how silly and impetuous it seemed now.

He nodded at Wescott as he led Ophelia into the opening steps of the waltz. He immediately spoke before he lost his courage and sense of purpose.

“Thank you for granting me this dance,” he said. “I’ve made things right with your husband, but it occurred to me that I have not made things right with you.”

Ophelia met his gaze with friendly ease. “Dear Lord Townsend, there is no need. I’m only grateful my husband’s circle of friends is intact again.”

“Still, I must apologize for my abominable behavior that day.” He did not have to say which day. They both knew. They both remembered. “You must have thought me a madman when I burst into your room and professed to love you.”

She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “I did, honestly, for I didn’t know who you were.”

“I’m so sorry, Lady Wescott. I became carried away with emotion. I look back now and think how foolish I was to ruin your private moment together, your betrothal. I’m grateful you’re still willing to call me a friend.”

“Wescott’s friends shall be my friends, now and always. Let’s speak of the past no more. The gossips may do so, but I will not.”

“Then I shan’t either.”

“You’ve made a fine marriage in the former Lady Jane McConall, have you not? I’ve meant to tell you how much I enjoy her company.”

“Indeed, I’m honored to be her husband.”

“Everything has worked out for the best,” said Ophelia with satisfaction. “Now that Wescott’s sister Hazel is situated, we may turn our attention to your youngest sister Rosalind. She’s eager to be married.”

“I know it.” Townsend had to laugh. “Seems like yesterday she was mucking about in short skirts, carrying around her ever-changing collection of dolls.”

“Ever-changing?”

“Oh yes. My sister was forever having her dolls die and be reborn whenever her big brothers were home from university. I attended more doll christenings and funerals than I care to admit. Rosalind may seem sweet, but she hides a certain flair for the dramatic.”

“Aren’t sisters wonderful? I doubtless tormented my brother in the same way.”

He felt a tug on his arm. For a moment, he was waltzing with two women instead of one as Jane insinuated herself between them. The dance’s graceful sway ground to a halt. The couples around them had to change direction to avoid running into them.

“What’s the matter?” Jane did not look pleased. “What’s happened?”

“I didn’t know.” Tears glittered in her eyes, sparkling as brightly as her tiara. “You didn’t tell me you were in love with her. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What? I—I’m not, not anymore.”

“You’re dancing with her. You still love her! I saw you laughing together from all the way over there. Everyone here can see.”

Yes, everyone could see, and his wife was shouting private things at him over the music so everyone could hear as well. He turned to apologize to Ophelia, but she’d already melted away as any proper lady would do in the midst of a madcap situation.

“What on earth are you about?” He took her arm to lead her somewhere private, before they created a worse spectacle at his sister’s anniversary ball.

“I know,” she cried, trying to pull away from him. “I know about you and Ophelia, and that you never meant to marry me at all.”

“Hush. Let’s not talk about this before the entire ton.”

People moved out of their way as they passed. Already half the couples had stopped dancing in order to crane their necks and see what the Marquess and Marchioness of Townsend were going on about. “How dare you make such a scene,” he said through gritted teeth. “Stop fighting and walk with me.”

They passed his parents, whose smiles hid a note of sympathy. “Is there anything I can do?” his mother asked quietly.

“No. I’m sorry. I’ll take her to the east parlor until she’s calmed.”

“I’ll send tea—”

“Don’t bother,” he said. Neither of them would be in a mood to sip tea when he was done with her. How dared she attack and embarrass him, here of all places? And Ophelia as well?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, still resisting.

“We’ll speak about this when we’re alone, in private,” he snapped. “Not before.”

“Oh, are you embarrassed? Imagine how I felt when I overheard gossips on the balcony cackling about our betrothal, about the fact you meant to propose to my sister!”