The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,26

two of the more outrageous court dandies. Having satisfied herself as to the current fashions, her gaze wandered until it rested on Julian.

Trying to steady her rapid heartbeat as she looked at her husband, Cara had to admire the picture he made. He wore a dark blue superfine jacket with a darker hued brocade waistcoat, unadorned by anything except a single gold watch fob. His cravat, tied in what Richard had called a Waterfall, rippled down his immense chest. As he talked to the children, his head was turned full face toward Cara and her eyes touched the fine features and brown eyes half concealed by coal black lashes. His dark hair tumbled across his forehead where he periodically brushed it back in annoyance.

"I always said her father was a want-wit. Valencia's lucky that her mother is gone. Now there was a sharp one."

Cara's wandering attention was brought back to the older women's conversation. Valencia's name had been mentioned by Agnes and Janey and their comments had been in no way complimentary. It took several minutes for Cara to weave together the backstairs gossip to realize the woman under discussion was the Lady Valencia Greeley, assumed by all to be her husband's current mistress.

"....no better than she should be!" Harriet finished. "Can't believe her father hasn't twigged to the situation."

Letitia leaned forward, her hand bracing her ample bosom as though to keep her fluttering heart within the tightly laced bodice. Lowering her voice she spoke with relish. "I hear that their pockets are to let. But looking at Valencia one would never suspect. That pink dress is one of Madame Chapair's creations, not some pinch-penny seamstress as Valencia would have you believe."

Once again the lorgnettes were raised and Cara's eyes followed to the woman seated beside Julian on the sofa.

Lady Valencia Greeley was beautiful. She was small but her figure was quite breathtaking from her voluptuous bosom to her curvaceous hips. Soft little hands fluttered girlishly as she plied her fan. The dress in question was of the softest shade of pink tulle, fragile as a cobweb. On another woman it would have been insipid but Cara admitted Valencia wore the dress with a piquant flair. A band of ruffles foamed at the low neckline giving coy glimpses of the white flesh it was supposed to conceal. Her head was molded by waves of golden tresses swept up to the back of her head where they cascaded in spiraling curls intertwined with pink ribbons.

"....beauty won't last forever," continued the indefatigable Harriet. "She appears to have a dash of excess flesh under her chin. And just look at her arms! My dear, she'll be waddling in another five years," the older woman announced happily.

Through narrowed eyes Cara scrutinized Valencia, trying to be objective. She did not consider the woman a rival for Julian's affections. At first Cara had been disturbed by her husband's unfaithfulness, but had reminded herself that it was common enough for a married man to have a mistress. However being sensible in the abstract, Cara found, was far different from being objective now that she was facing the actual object of Julian's desires. After all he is my husband, she muttered, eyeing the young woman.

Initially Valencia appeared to be in the first bloom of youth. She had a heart shaped face with a deep widow's peak set above slanting green cat's eyes. Although the eyes were small, they were balanced by the wide sweep of brows above and the tiny pouting mouth below. A beauty patch nestled in the valley of a dimple in her cheek. Although her every appearance called out an innocence of unawakened passion there was a sleepy awareness in the sensuality of her eyes and mouth. As Cara watched, Valencia dropped her hand to caress Julian's leg. It was but an instant's movement and then hand and face were back to their pose of girlish innocence.

To her chagrin, angry emotion washed over Cara. Lowering her eyes to hide her fury, she felt her cheeks redden and looked up again, only to be skewered on her husband's sardonic brown gaze.

Julian had been aware of Cara's presence since she entered the room. There was something about the girl that mystified him. She carried herself with an air that bespoke both education and breeding. Young in years perhaps, but her face, plain at first glance, held maturity and character. He noted in amusement that Miss Farraday was an innocent. She had seen Valencia's caress and Julian was