Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,27
to follow their own hearts. He must never know that her heart seemed to be following him.
*
Christopher didn’t know what had made him kiss her. Except that she had looked so pretty and wounded and brave, and that he’d wanted to do it since last night when they had parted at her bedchamber door. He could have ruined everything with that kiss, and certainly she had jumped up like a startled gazelle when it had ended. But she hadn’t stopped him. It hadn’t been a threatening kiss, merely a moment of impulse, to see…what?
If she could tolerate his advances? He had only won her on a promise of keeping his attention to himself and leaving her free to pursue her own interests. And if she did…if she took a shine to Dudley? Or Letchworth? Or Gates? Or any other man in the country? He’d expire of possessive jealousy.
Dog in the manger, he mocked himself. She’s only your wife in name.
But did she have to remain that way?
He began to smile, reining in his stride as he realized she was trotting to keep up with him. He liked her being there, so close. He liked her partnership. He didn’t want to fall in love with his wife.
Although it might be fun, a tempting voice began to whisper, to see if he could win her…
You’ll ruin everything, idiot, he warned himself.
Or win everything?
Chapter Seven
Aware that his wife was going to find dinner something of a trial, Christopher made sure to go early to the drawing room. He found only his cousin Dudley there with a glass of sherry.
“You’ve brightened this place up, old fellow, I’ll give you that,” Dudley observed.
“Deborah’s doing.” Christopher poured himself a glass of sherry from the decanter and turned to find Dudley looking uncomfortable.
“Sorry about all of this,” Dudley murmured. “But he would come right away, especially when he heard about the scandal surrounding the girl.”
“How did he hear about that?” Christopher inquired, perching on the arm of a chair.
“Might have been me, Chris. Sorry! Never entered my head it was the same girl, only then I had it from a friend that it was…”
“Having met her, you’ll realize it’s a parcel of nonsense.”
“Oh, of course, yes,” Dudley said hastily. “Charming lady, everything that’s proper. But you can’t pretend she married you for anything other than money and position.”
“Same reasons I married her. It may not be a grand love match, but I won’t have her slighted or insulted, and if either of you dares—”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, old fellow, I assure you.” Dudley threw up one hand to signify surrender. “And even the old gentleman knows that approach isn’t going to work.”
“Hmm.” Christopher regarded him with a quick frown. “Why the devil are you here at all, Dudley? Not like you to involve yourself in my grandfather’s fights.”
Dudley shrugged. “Wasn’t sure if I should hold him back or let him have at you, to be honest. Don’t bite me, but I heard nothing good about the girl.”
“Hmm.” Christopher frowned. “You mean this scandal at the Princess of Wales’s house? You read the article?”
“I did. Don’t normally pay attention to these rags—full of petty gossip and innuendo—but the women named by initials were all Her Highness’s ladies.”
“But only two of them are on duty at once. Don’t you think it odd that four of them were named as being there?”
Dudley shrugged. “Never struck me, to be honest. Not really privy to the workings of the princess’s household. To be honest, I wouldn’t have paid much attention, but a friend of mine was there and saw them, including Juliet Lilbourne and Meg Winter, and no one would dare name them without some truth!”
“Perhaps, but who would know who Miss D.S. is?” Christopher demanded. “A duke’s daughter is news, but by the world’s standards, the daughter of a country clergyman is not. She doesn’t move among the ton.”
Dudley picked up his sherry once more and sat down. “Someone au fait with Her Highness’s household. Don’t see what you’re getting at, old fellow.”
“The whole thing smacks of malice,” Christopher said bluntly. “Who told you D.S. was Deborah Shelby? My wife?”
“Don’t recall now. Wait, I think it was Grassic, had it from Barden—who may be the Regent’s snake, but at least he knows the princess’s household.”
Christopher thought about that. “And you told my grandfather this?”
“I did when I heard who you had married.” Dudley cast him a defiant look. “Seemed only right.”
“Well, you may take it from me, it’s lies. She was