The Bride's Necklace Part 18

Her sister waited anxiously on the front porch when Tory arrived. As she departed the carriage, Claire raced along the brick walkway into her sister's arms.

"Oh, Tory, I'm so glad to see you!"

"It's only been a few days, darling."

"I know, but it seems much longer." She took hold of Tory's hand and led her into the house, which was fas.h.i.+onably elegant, with a marble-floored entry and a drawing room done in ivory and gold.

A tall, thin butler appeared. When Claire simply looked up at him, he smiled. "Perhaps my lady would wish some tea to share with her guest," he prompted.

"Oh, yes! Thank you, Parkhurst, that would be lovely."

"Of course, my lady." He gave her an indulgent smile, already enthralled with his new mistress.

She and Claire went into the drawing room, which was small but stylishly furnished, with a sienna marble mantel above the hearth and crystal-prismed lamps and porcelain-faced clocks sitting on Sheraton tables.

Claire smiled as they walked into the room, but the smile seemed forced.

"You look a little pale, dearest. Are you feeling all right?"

Claire glanced away. "I am fine."

Worry filtered through her. "Is everything...is everything all right between you and Lord Percy?"

"I suppose so." She sighed as she sank down on the sofa. "It's just..."

"Just what, darling? Do you not enjoy Lord Percy's company?"

She nodded, her smile a little more genuine. "Oh, yes. I like him ever so much. But-"

The tea cart rattled just then as Parkhurst shoved it through the open doorway.

"Why don't you pour for us?" Tory suggested. "Then you can tell me all about it."

Parkhurst left the tea cart and closed the drawing room doors, making them private. Tory seated herself on the sofa next to Claire, who took care to arrange the skirt of her finely cut day dress, a pale green jaconet gathered into delicate folds beneath the bosom. Tory also wore a gown of muslin, hers in a saffron hue, the square-cut bodice heavily embroidered in silk.

Claire was married to the son of a marquess; Tory was the wife of an earl. Both Cord and Percy had gone to extravagant expense to see their wives properly clothed.

Claire took a sip of her tea. "Sometimes when I am with him...I don't know...in some odd way he makes me feel nervous. He's extremely handsome, of course, and entirely a gentleman. Still, when he holds my hand, my palms become damp. He kisses me and I like it very much, but when he stops, I find myself growing agitated that he doesn't continue."

Tory bit her lip. She knew what her sister was feeling. Cord made her feel those things and a good deal more. But how did she go about explaining desire between a man and his wife?

"What you are feeling is natural, Claire. When a woman admires a man, she often feels those sorts of things. Just follow Lord Percy's lead, and in time, it will all work out." At least she hoped that it would.

"Tonight he is taking me to the opera. I have never been to an opera and I am so looking forward to it. He has planned something for every night this week. It is all very exciting."

He is courting her, Tory thought, pleased by the notion.

"Percy said to ask if you and Lord Brant might wish to join us. The marquess has a private box and Percy thinks you would both enjoy the performance."

Oh, how she would love to attend the opera! And to sit in a private box, no less. Cord would be too busy, she knew, working late, as usual, unable to break away. She tried not to let it annoy her, but lately it did.

"He will probably be working," Tory said. "But I shall certainly try to convince him."

"If the earl cannot come, perhaps you could still come with us. I should like that ever so much."

Tory would like that, too. Still, she would rather go with her husband.

She was thinking of Cord several hours later when she returned to the house and made her way straight to his study.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, my lord."

Cord leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's all right. I could use a moment's break. How was your sister?"

"She is adjusting. Lord Percy is treating her very well. As a matter of fact, they have extended an invitation to join them at the opera tonight. I was hoping that perhaps..."

Cord sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry, sweeting. Unfortunately, I've a meeting with Colonel Pendleton tonight. I'm sure Lord Percy wouldn't mind escorting two beautiful women instead of one."

The matter of Captain Sharpe's rescue was certainly of more import. Tory could scarcely argue with that. Still, if he would be gone for the evening, what would it matter if she went on her own? "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Go ahead," he urged. "It'll be good for you to get out of the house."

She didn't want to go without him, but staying home alone every night wasn't much fun, either.

And so it had started, innocently enough, just a reason to get out of the house while Cord was busy working. Three or four nights a week, Tory joined her sister and her husband at an endless stream of social events.

Unlike Cord, Percival Chezwick had few responsibilities. He had a sizable trust fund combined with a small inheritance from his grandfather, and he was young and full of life.

He was proud of his beautiful wife and took every possible occasion to show her off to Society.

It was the night of the earl of Marley's house party that Percy's cousin, Julian Fox, first accompanied them.

Julian was the son of a viscount, several years older than Percy, in London for the Season. He was black-haired and blue-eyed, more sophisticated than his cousin and not the least bit shy. He was handsome and utterly charming.

Tory liked him from the moment she met him and he seemed to like her. Throughout the evening, Julian was approached by women, but though he was friendly, mostly he ignored them, remaining, instead, close to Tory and the party he had come with.

The next night, they attended the theater, Shakespeare's King Lear, and again, Julian went with them. If he had made the slightest overture, the least improper advance, she might have been uncomfortable, but he played the perfect gentleman.

Over the next several weeks, the foursome attended the theatre, the opera and an endless stream of soirees, house parties and ridottos. Tonight they were attending a ball in honor of the mayor's birthday. Occasionally, she noticed someone looking their way, but it never crossed her mind that people might be gossiping about them.

It wasn't until later she realized she was traveling the road to perdition.

Percy stood next to his wife in the ballroom.

"Where is Tory?" Claire's gaze searched the room. "I don't see her anywhere about."

"She is probably in the gaming room with Julian. Or perhaps they are dancing."

"Your cousin and my sister have become such dear friends," Claire said. "Still, I know she would love for Lord Brant to accompany her. Perhaps you could speak to him, tell him how happy it would make her if he joined us some evening."

Percy's pulse increased as her lovely blue eyes came to rest on his face. He nodded noncommittally but made no reply. It wasn't his place to interfere between a man and his wife. Besides, he had more than enough problems with his own marriage.

Claire took his hand. "Could we dance? Please, Percy?"

"If that is your wish, sweetheart, I shall make it my command." He smiled and led her off toward the dance floor. He agreed to anything she asked, gave her anything she wanted, though she rarely asked for much. He was head over the mark for her, completely dim-witted where his wife was concerned.

Not that she was his wife in truth. The marriage had yet to be consummated, and though he thought of little else twenty-four hours a day, the time was not yet right to press his suit.

His wife knew nothing of the physical side of marriage-though if kissing were an art form, she had become a female Michelangelo. So good, in fact, that he dared not kiss her overlong for fear he might lose control and ravish her.

He forced the worrisome thought away and smiled at her. Letting her lead him onto the dance floor, he took her hand and led her into the steps of a contredanse, enjoying the sweet way she smiled back at him whenever he took her hand. Each time she touched him, his manhood stirred and his face heated up. He worried about the snug fit of his breeches and tried to think of something besides the soft swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s above the top of her mauve silk gown.

He watched her make a graceful pirouette, her gown floating softly around her calves. For an instant, her beautiful eyes locked with his and a blush rose in her cheeks. Percy forced himself to look away and prayed with every ounce of his strength he could continue to control himself where his utterly delectable wife was concerned.

The evening progressed. Tory wandered out of the card room, wondering where her sister had gone. "There you are. I've been looking all over." Julian Fox walked toward her, smiling as he captured her hand. He was as tall as Cord, with thick black hair and stunning blue eyes, and he cut a das.h.i.+ng figure in his perfectly tailored burgundy tailcoat and light gray breeches.

"They are starting the entertainment out in the garden," he said. "I thought you might like to see it."

"I was playing whist and not very well. I should far prefer watching the entertainment than losing all of my money."

"Dancing Cossacks from the Steppes of Russia." Julian leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Probably no more than wandering Gypsies, but who cares?" He straightened. "Come. If we hurry we can still find a seat."

Julian led her through the doors leading out to the terrace. Tory knew he felt safe with her, able to dodge the throngs of women who vied for his attention. Aside from his good looks and charm, Julian had money and social position. He would be considered a very good catch for one of the young women in the marriage mart. But Julian seemed to have little interest. Tory wondered if perhaps a woman had hurt him in the past and now he guarded his heart very carefully.

Certainly, he had no interest in her, which was why she also felt safe with him. They were friends, nothing more, and, in truth, she would much rather be with her husband.

And yet marriage to Cord had been far from the sort of which she had dreamed, the kind her father and mother had shared, doing things together, enjoying each other's company more than anyone else's.

She sighed as she let Julian seat her in a chair at the end of several rows. He wasn't Cord, but he was excellent company. Tory settled back to watch the show.

Cord pushed away from his desk. It was well past one and Victoria had not yet returned. These evening affairs were beginning to annoy him.

Still, wives often attended ton functions without their husbands, and it was through no fault of Victoria's that he hadn't the time to go about with her in Society. He should be grateful his brother-in-law had taken on the job of chaperone. Thank G.o.d the young man enjoyed that sort of thing.

As for Cord, he was busy with the purchase he was about to make on a block of real estate in Threadneedle Street, an empty building in an area of prestigious offices. With a little renovation, the structure would be worth double his investment.

It was highly unfas.h.i.+onable for a member of the aristocracy to do any sort of work, but Cord had discovered he enjoyed it. To appease the ton, he had pa.s.sed his interest in finance off as a hobby, which seemed perfectly credible to them.

Mostly, though, his mind was preparing for the upcoming attempt to free Ethan.

Two nights ago, Colonel Pendleton had received news that Ethan had been moved inland, to a prison east of Nantes. The place wasn't nearly as accessible as the prison in Calais, but the Loire River flowed past Nantes into the sea at St. Nazaire, and if freeing Ethan could be managed, the colonel believed Max Bradley could see it done.

And, as before, Cord intended to have a s.h.i.+p waiting to bring Ethan home once the men reached the coast.

He pulled the gold chain from the pocket of his waistcoat, flipped open the lid of his watch and checked the time. It was half past one. He snapped the lid closed and his gaze snagged on the chessboard sitting in the corner. He hadn't played chess with Victoria since they were wed. He simply hadn't had time.

Or perhaps that was just an excuse.

Staying busy kept his mind off his wife, kept him from getting more deeply involved with her than he was already. She'd had her hooks in him from the beginning, though he didn't think she knew. The last thing he wanted was to fall more deeply into the female trap she posed.

G.o.d's breath-he didn't want to wind up like that young fool, Lord Percy.

Cord liked things exactly as they were-Victoria pleasing him in bed while their lives ran on parallel, but separate, courses.

He heard movement in the hall and rose from his chair. Victoria was home and it was about d.a.m.ned time. Striding down the corridor, he spotted her in the entry, a slender, feminine vision in saffron silk and cream lace.

"I expected you sooner," he said darkly as he approached. She turned at the sound of his voice and her chin went up.

"Claire and Lord Percy wished to stay a bit longer tonight. As I was their guest, I had no choice but also to remain. Perhaps if you had come with me-"

"I was busy-as you d.a.m.n well know."

"Then, it would seem the problem would be yours and not mine."

His eyes narrowed. He started to say something more, but he knew in a way she was right, and besides, she looked so delectable with her cheeks flushed and her nose in the air that his body stirred and his loins filled. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he scooped her up in his arms and started climbing the stairs.

They could discuss her late hours on the morrow. Tonight he needed his wife and he meant to have her.

Her arms slipped around his neck, her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s pillowed against his chest, and his body throbbed to be inside her. There were advantages to being married he hadn't thought of before. As long as he maintained a certain distance, as long as he thought with his head and not his heart, he could enjoy himself.

Cord vowed that was exactly what he would do.

Chapter Fifteen*.

Tory was beginning to tire of the endless social whirl. There were nights she wished she could simply stay home, but if she did, she would wind up sitting alone in the drawing room, reading a book or working on her embroidery. Cord would be squirreled away in his study and wouldn't wish to be disturbed.

Tory sighed. She might as well go out.

Crossing the room, she tugged on the bell pull, ringing for her lady's maid, Emma Conklin, to help her select a gown for the night's affair.

"Gor, milady, but this one surely is fine. 'Tis one of me personal favorites." Emma had been a serving maid when Tory worked as housekeeper. Broad-hipped, with kinky blond hair and a faint c.o.c.kney accent, Emma had once revealed her dream of becoming a lady's maid, a highly unlikely circ.u.mstance, considering her background.

But Emma loved clothes and it turned out she was a very competent seamstress. When Tory became Cord's wife, she decided to give Emma the job as her maid.

"You don't think the pearl satin would be better?"

" 'Tis handsome and no doubt. But the rose silk with the pale pink overskirt and those lovely little oak cl.u.s.ters up the front-'tis exquisite, milady."

Tory smiled. She enjoyed Emma's company and her refres.h.i.+ng candor. "Then the rose silk it shall be."

Emma helped her into the dress and fastened the b.u.t.tons up the back, then Tory selected the jewelry she would wear.

Digging into the jewelry box, her hand brushed the slick white satin wrapped around her father's ring. A little chill went through her as she lifted the ring out of the box and unrolled the satin.