The Viscount And The Virgin Part 9

There was no sign of Viscount Stanegate or his wife, she noted with disappointment. She had particularly wanted to speak to William Wardale's daughter. She had meant to make a point of smiling at her during the ceremony, but of course she had been in no fit state to smile about anything by the time Monty dragged her down the aisle.

At last, her eyes came to rest on Rick, who was standing talking to Lady Verity's other brother, Hal Carlow, and her heart gave a little lurch. The one person, above all others, she had wished to attend her wedding ceremony had not been there!

'Rick,' she said, the other occupants of the room fading into in significance.

He had been deep in conversation with Major Carlow, but at the sound of his name on her lips he raised his head and came striding towards her, his face creased with concern.

'I am sorry, Midge,' he said, taking both her hands in his. 'The fellow disappeared completely. Crawled back under whatever stone he had been hiding under, I expect.'

'Rick! How can you be so unkind? If that man is Stephen...'

'Ah, yes, if if,' he said sharply. 'Look, Midge, don't you think it more likely that somebody just wanted to spoil your wedding day? And paid some pa.s.sing stranger to pose as...well...Stephen Hebden? You s.n.a.t.c.hing Monty out from under them all will have put quite a few noses out of joint, I daresay...'

Midge's mind flew back to the malicious smiles upon the faces of the Veryan girls. And the way they had always managed to make her look ridiculous. And she wondered if Rick could be right.

'I thought...' She shook her head. 'He knew so many things...I couldn't see how he could have known them if he wasn't...'

But Major Carlow, who had sauntered over, was looking at her with an expression it was hard to fathom.

'Did I hear a'right? It was Stephen Hebden trying to gain entry to the church just now?'

'Yes,' said Midge, at exactly the same moment Rick said, 'No! Fellow claiming to be Stephen Hebden. But Stephen died years ago-'

'Only wish to G.o.d he had!' rapped Major Carlow. Then, pulling himself up short, 'Beg pardon, my lady, but I have had some experience of his tactics, and I think it only fair to warn you...' He petered out, just a second before she became aware Monty had joined them in the doorway.

'Having to beg my lady's pardon already, Hal? And you not five minutes in the house, you unmitigated scoundrel!'

Major Carlow smiled, but not with the same insouciance she had seen in him earlier.

The three men then indulged in a few moments of jovially insulting one another, the way her three step-brothers had used to do. As she listened, she felt Monty's arm slide round her waist. She knew she ought to have made some protest, but she couldn't summon the will power to pretend she was not down right glad of his physical support. She had never felt so plain and gauche as she did standing there in the first gown to come out of her trunk, in the shadow of two officers in dress uniform and the most handsome man in the world.

She wondered, with a little pang of hurt, if this was why Viscount Mildenhall had dressed so plainly today. Because he did not want to outshine his fubsy little bride.

It was kind of him, if so. For she was sure he would much rather be wearing some thing that showed off his physique, like the major's snugly fitting uniform.

As though Monty had sensed she was feeling left out, he squeezed her waist a little more firmly, before saying, 'Come, then. Let us put on our Society faces, and go and greet our other guests properly.'

'Before we do,' she said, 'may I ask, that is,' she could feel her cheeks going red as she looked up into Major Carlow's face. 'I notice that Viscount Stanegate and his wife have not arrived. I do hope...'

'Nell's not feeling quite the thing, so Marcus took her home, thank G.o.d,' he said. 'Hate to think how upset she would have been had she heard that Gypsy trouble maker was hanging about the church.'

Midge blinked up at him in surprise, but before she could ask exactly what he had meant by that cryptic statement, Monty was dragging her away.

'No more of that now, please,' he murmured into her ear as he steered her towards the first knot of wedding guests. 'I will find out what he meant, discreetly, and we can discuss it later. For now, we have a job to do.'

He startled her by dropping a swift kiss on her cheek. 'Pretending to be respectable pillars of Society.'

She felt both the words and the deed like a blow, an unnecessary reminder that he thought her very far from respectable!

Later, she vowed, when he discussed all the items on his agenda, she was going to bring up the matter of his erroneous opinion of her!

He seemed unaware of her simmering resentment as he guided her through the room, charming one group of guests after another. He kept his arm round her waist, holding her close to his side as though he could not bear to be parted from her by so much as an inch!

But by the time they sat down to dine, the whole atmosphere had lightened considerably. The banquet her aunt had arranged was truly magnificent, the waiting staff smoothly efficient, and conversation around the table was soon flowing as freely as the copious quant.i.ties of champagne her uncle had supplied.

It could not have gone off better.

Even Midge managed not to knock anything over or spill anything down her gown.

When it was time to leave, her aunt, who was looking much less fraught after the amount of champagne she had imbibed, came to bid her farewell.

'Well, I must say, you have married a man with great presence of mind. The way he handled our guests, as though he saw nothing untoward in that Disgraceful Scene outside the church...'

She reached out and patted Midge on the cheek. 'And, after all, you will be a countess one day. Then-' she drew herself up to her full height '-they will all have to keep their tongues between their teeth!'

Midge gathered that her aunt must have spent a great portion of the afternoon fielding spiteful comments about her conduct, but rather than looking hara.s.sed, Lady Callandar was positively vibrating with triumph.

'Next time you make an exhibition of yourself,' she said, with an almost mischievous twinkle in her eye, 'and knowing you as I do, I am certain there will will be a next time, you would do well to follow your husband's lead and brazen it out. Act as though you have nothing to be ashamed of. Never apologize.' be a next time, you would do well to follow your husband's lead and brazen it out. Act as though you have nothing to be ashamed of. Never apologize.'

And then, to Midge's complete astonishment, her aunt leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. In spite of the fact that anybody might have seen her!

'I shall look forward to calling upon you when you return to town,' she finished, with a warm smile.

Imogen raised her hand to her face, stunned by her aunt's public demonstration of affection and approval. If only she could have unbent towards her sooner! The months living in Mount Street would not have been anything like as difficult.

Monty had been standing a few feet away, in what looked like deep conversation with Rick and Major Carlow. But the moment her aunt left her, he excused himself and came straight over.

'Is anything amiss?'

He could tell that Lady Callandar had said some thing that had rocked Midge to the core. Without caring about the impropriety of it, he put his arms round her and hugged her hard.

He could scarcely credit how fiercely protective he had grown towards her, in such a short s.p.a.ce of time. When he had seen her hovering in the doorway earlier, her eyes wide with apprehension, he had wanted to simply whisk her away to somewhere where n.o.body would ever hurt her again. It had hurt when those misty grey eyes had swept straight past him, to come to rest on the form of her beloved step brother. But it made no difference to his resolve to protect her. Show them all that he did not disapprove of what she had done or the way she was. So he had crossed the room. Gone to stand beside her. Faced down the starchy matrons who had looked down their noses at her, and the girls who had sn.i.g.g.e.red at her. She had not objected to him putting his arm round her waist, so he had kept it there. At one point, she so far forgot herself as to lean her head on his shoulder for a few seconds. Yes, he was really pleased with the progress he had made with his reluctant bride.

'My aunt,' she said with an ironic twist to her mouth, 'has just informed me that now I am your your wife, I can get away with all manner of social crimes, providing I never apologize for them.' wife, I can get away with all manner of social crimes, providing I never apologize for them.'

Monty frowned. That comment was tactless in the extreme. It was as though her aunt expected Midge to be a failure. What a dreadful way to send her into her married life!

Hoping to put a positive slant on things, he said ruefully, 'Whatever you do, now that you have a t.i.tle, certain people will always toady to you, that is true.'

Midge glanced up at the cynical expression on his face, her heart sinking. He might have brazened things out, as her aunt put it, for the benefit of the wedding guests, but deep down, he knew she was destined to be a social failure. All the pleasure she had felt at finally winning her aunt round dissipated at the realization she still had a long way to go to earn her husband's respect.

Chapter Seven

Pansy put the finishing touches to Imogen's night attire, helped her up into the enormous bed, and withdrew from the room with a sentimental sigh.

Imogen slumped back against the pillows, chewing on her thumb nail.

She did not know what to make of her husband anymore. She had got so used to thinking he was a pompous a.s.s. But there had been moments today when she had felt positively grateful to him. Just for being there!

Any minute now, though, she sighed, he would be walking through the door that connected her room to his, so they could have that 'long talk' he had threatened her with. When they would 'decide what was to be done.' And she had a nasty suspicion that, since n.o.body else would be watching, he would revert to his true colours.

She heard a floor board creak and her eyes flew to the connecting door.

More than half expecting to receive a scolding, she sat up straight, nervously pushing her hair off her forehead with trembling fingers.

Just about everything she'd done since coming to London had resulted in a scold. She glanced round at the opulence of the room he had a.s.signed to her, as his viscountess, and felt a little pang of yearning for the cosy little room up under the eaves of the Brambles. n.o.body had ever gone up there to replay the catalogue of errors she had committed during the preceding day.

She lifted her chin, tamping down on the deceitful feeling of nostalgia. The reason Hugh had never scolded her had been because he had not cared, one way or the other, what she did, so long as nothing interrupted his studies. Whereas her aunt's constant sniping stemmed from her concern as to what other people would make of her. And as for her husband...

Her breath hitched in her throat as the door opened and Monty, clad in a magnificent green silk brocade dressing gown, entered the room.

He was bound to have some thing to say about her conduct. It was only natural for him to want his wife to maintain certain standards in public.

She searched his handsome face anxiously. There was an intent expression in his eyes as he advanced towards the bed, but he did not look cross.

She smiled at him, relieved that he really did appear willing to discuss the incident in the portico with an open mind.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Raised it to his lips and kissed it. Smiled back at her...

And it was only then she noticed the absence of what she had hoped they were going to discuss.

'Where is it?'

'Where is what?'

'The gift Stephen brought me. You said you would take care of it for me.'

There was a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Had he just said whatever he had felt would make her behave, without having any intention of truly listening to her opinions? She remembered the ruthless way he had bullied her into marrying him, and s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand out of his.

'You have not...you have not disposed of it, have you?'

He shot to his feet, staggered at how much she could hurt him by harbouring such a suspicion!

He turned on his heel and stalked back into his room, flinging open the doors of his wardrobe to find the jacket that he had been wearing earlier. The packet must still be in the inside pocket. d.a.m.n that rogue of a brother of hers!

d.a.m.n Viscount Mildenhall too. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the wardrobe door. What a c.o.xcomb he was, to a.s.sume his new bride, a girl he had coerced into marriage, would now be so over whelmed by the honour he had bestowed on her that she would by lying in bed, panting for him to come to her.

He sure as h.e.l.l would not have taken getting a girl into his bed for granted when he had been merely Lieutenant Vernon Claremont. Oh, he had learned that his looks made him attractive to the fair s.e.x. He had wooed and won his fair share.

But he had not wooed Midge.

Just a.s.sumed...he grimaced. 'Put yourself in her shoes,' he growled to himself, shaking his head. If he had just endured the day she'd had, would he be feeling amorous?

No wonder she accused him of being arrogant.

Well, if he had been, marriage to her would soon cure him of that! She had quite a knack of puncturing the over-inflated opinion of himself he had acquired as a result of all the toadying that went on in London Society.

He whirled round on hearing the rustle of silk behind him. Midge stood in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist, her grey eyes frosty.

Dear G.o.d, he hoped she had not heard him talking to himself!

'I apologize,' she said stiffly. 'I did not mean to imply that you are not completely trust worthy. You said you would take care of it, and I am sure you would not lie to me.'

The words might have been humble, but she had spoken them as though she was delivering a challenge.

She more than half expected him to lie to her, he realized. She really did think he was a... What was it she had called him? Oh, yes, a vile worm.

His lips pulled tight into a flat line, he turned his back on her and resumed the search of his jacket pockets.

'You must forgive me for forgetting all about this,' he said sarcastically, as his fingers closed round the elusive article. 'It is just that discussing your brother was the last thing I expected to be doing on my wedding night.'

Imogen's eyes snagged on the wedge of flesh that became exposed when his dressing gown gaped as he threw her brother's wedding gift to her. He was not wearing a night shirt!

Her eyes swept the entire length of him, ending in a fascinated perusal of his bare calves and toes. She gulped. He did not appear to be wearing anything at all under that dressing gown.

She remembered the look on his face as he had approached her bed, the gleam in his eyes when she had smiled. The eager way he had grasped her hand.

And his bitter words as he riffled through his wardrobe at her behest.

'I do beg your pardon,' she said, hanging her head. She had been so busy thinking of things to resent about him, she had entirely for got ten what a poor bargain he was getting out of this marriage. That there was only one thing he considered her fit for.

'I c-could leave opening this until morning.' He had not at tempted to deceive her, she could see that now. It was just that her concerns seemed trivial to him. Because she was a mere female. And he was a typically thought less, selfish male.

She returned to her room and laid the packet on her bedside table.

'Oh, no you don't,' he growled, stalking into the room after her. 'We will get this business out of the way, since it is so very much on your mind. I intend to have your undivided attention when I make love to you for the first time.'

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile as she s.n.a.t.c.hed the packet up and went to sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She would have permitted him to a.s.sert his marital rights over her, dutifully, but he would have to be blind not to see that her fingers were itching to untie the knot on that d.a.m.ned parcel, rather than the belt of his dressing gown.

He joined her on the ottoman, wondering if any other bride groom had ever found himself coming so low down on the list of his bride's priorities on his wedding night.

She looked up at him warily when he sat down, a question in her eyes.

'Go on.' He sighed. 'Let us see what all the fuss was about.'

With a smile of relief, she tore open the wrapping paper.

Then went white.

He forgot all about his own fit of pique when he followed her appalled gaze and saw, lying in her lap, a replica of a hangman's noose. Fashioned from what looked like a lot of silk scarves plaited together.