Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,67
she’d been dropped suddenly from a great height. He wanted her.
“Ah, it appears we returned just in time,” Gabriel said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, the intimate gesture causing a tightening that began in her chest and shot down to the place between her thighs. So this was what it was like not to be a wallflower? To be with a handsome man? She cut a furtive glance around the room beneath her lashes and saw female eyes trained on her with envy.
“Mrs. Marlington, I believe this is my set?”
They turned to find Visel behind them, his arm extended. Gabriel squeezed her hand and released her.
Lord Visel’s blond good looks were angelic, but the expression in his celestial eyes was hard: he was not a happy man.
They took their positions, his gaze never leaving her. “How are you enjoying married life thus far, Mrs. Marlington?” He did not speak loudly, but the words would have reached those around them, all of whom were behaving as if their ears weren’t stretched to capacity to listen to this most fascinating of conversations.
Drusilla realized he was trying to discompose her, expecting her marriage was not a happy union.
She gave him what she hoped was a smug, self-satisfied smile. “I find that it suits me very well, my lord.”
The music began, and it was a few moments before he could respond. They came together, and he bowed over her hand before leading her into formation, the two of them side by side.
“I’m very pleased to hear that, Mrs. Marlington. I’m afraid I inferred—from your husband’s presence at White’s on your wedding night—that matters between you might be rather . . . unsettled.”
Drusilla stumbled slightly. How dare he!
“Is aught amiss?” His question was solicitous, but the glint in his eyes was avid.
They broke the figure and she was spared from answering. It was just as well, because she pulsed with fury. Her face was hot and she could only hope she was not glowing like a lighthouse beacon. Plainly he was trying to make mischief, and that should have made his behavior easier to dismiss. However, the fact that Gabriel had left on their wedding night merely provided grist for people like him.
Any hope that her anger would go unnoticed was dashed when they next came into contact.
“I can see my comment upset you,” he said in a low voice, gracefully guiding her into the turn. “I didn’t mean to, but I seem to be making a dreadful hash of my apology.” His mobile, shapely lips were turned down at the corners, giving the appearance of contrition. Drusilla knew better.
She ignored him, hoping he would shut up. Unfortunately, he either did not notice or did not care.
“It’s just that . . . well, I feel somewhat responsible for what has happened to you—for your marriage to Marlington.”
“You take quite a lot upon yourself, sir.”
He smiled at her chilly tone. “It is the guilt, you see. If only I could be sure of your happiness.” He hesitated, as if he were indecisive, and then said, “But that is not my place—I beg your pardon. Besides, I can see you are both putting on your best face.”
Drusilla followed his gaze to where Gabriel was dancing—with the Kitten. All the joy she’d felt earlier drained away like liquid down a funnel. The two beautiful people were laughing as they danced, their movements easy and confident, as if they’d danced together a hundred times before.Which Drusilla knew they had, because each time she’d seen them was etched into her soul.
“I shouldn’t worry,” Visel said, interrupting her agony. He wore an expression of regret that seemed genuine. “Neither of them appears heartbroken.”
Drusilla met that comment with the stony silence it deserved.
“Tell me,” the earl said, the next time the dance brought them together, “how are you enjoying being part of such a big family?”
The innocuous question aroused her suspicion, but she could hardly ignore a direct question. “Very much, thank you.”
“I was surprised to learn that even Mr. Marlington’s family from Oran managed to make an appearance at your nuptials—I didn’t see the boy’s parents,just Mr. Marlington walking with the handsome little fellow in the park.”
Drusilla stared. “I beg your pardon?”
Visel’s eyes became wide, and he grimaced. “I’m devilishly sorry, ma’am—it seems I—dash it!” He bit his lip, and Drusilla fumed through the next several minutes until they were once again close enough to speak.
“I apologize, ma’am. I must have mistaken Marlington for somebody else.”