Free Mutual Consent by Gayle Buck

spoke with a hearty reassurance that he was not at all positive he actually felt.
    Babs smiled, her keen ears picking up the falseness of his tone. She inclined her head in ironic acknowledgment. His lordship was not to know that whatever his reservations might have been, she had every intention of putting his reassurance to her to the uttermost limits. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, my lord. I shall do my utter best, you may rest assured of that.”
    Lord Chatworth eyed his wife with a hint of suspicion. He did not quite know what had been said, but he sensed that she was hugely satisfied at what had just transpired. “I shall also require you to act as my hostess from time to time,” he said slowly.
    He was startled by the look almost of panic that darted into her expressive eyes. Oho, my girl, he thought. So there is something that you fear, after all. He wondered with resignation if his wife, with her obvious trepidation at the mere suggestion of hostessing, would prove to be a disaster in a social setting. Perhaps her air of breeding would evaporate and leave only the vulgar underpinnings of her paternal ancestry.
    But then, it hardly mattered. He did not plan on spending much time in doing the pretty in his own establishment. There were amusements enough about town so that he did not need to entertain, and certainly there was a particular lady who knew just how to entertain him.
    At thought of his mistress, the earl’s lips curled faintly. His reception at that lady’s hands on the occasion of his next visit would be interesting at the very least. He had not informed her of his plans to wed.
    Babs wondered at his lordship’s strange smile. His eyes were on her, but she did not think he saw her. She shivered slightly. There was something in his expression that sent a frisson up her spine. “My lord? You said something about hostessing a few gatherings. When may I expect to do so? I shall naturally wish to address the question of proper entertainment and the invitations.”
    Lord Chatworth was brought back from his pleasantly erotic reverie. He frowned in sudden irritability. “You need not concern yourself with any of that just yet. I think it more important that you become better acquainted with society before setting about a party.”
    “Of course, my lord,’’ Babs said quietly. She was startled by the earl’s sudden snappishness, but quickly regained her balance. Her dealings with her father had not led her to believe that any gentleman was capable of civility for any great length of time.
    Lord Chatworth was unaccountably sorry for his discourtesy toward his unwanted wife. It was an emotion as surprising as it was annoying. “I think also that it is time that we establish a more familiar footing, my dear.”
    He was amused that she stiffened, and he smiled, an arrogant mocking-smile expression. “I do not go back so soon on our agreement, my lady, never fear. Unless you wish it, of course.” He paused, to give her time to reply, and his amusement was strengthened by her quick shake of her head. “I meant merely that we cannot go on addressing one another forever with such formality. I think that it is common practice for a wedded couple to make use of each other’s Christian names. Especially as we have our unique business arrangement, I think it will facilitate matters if we should practice a little less formality. I am Marcus to my friends.’’
    Babs smiled a little, wondering with a touch of wistfulness if that was what she was: a friend who chanced to have married him. She thought not, but she could not very well refuse to agree to his suggestion. It would be churlish in the extreme. “Very well, my lord. I so agree.”
    Lord Chatworth smiled. He leaned forward from his chair to offer his hand to her. She laid her hand in his and his strong fingers closed about hers. “Obviously it will take practice on your part, Barbara,” he said teasingly.
    Her attention was centered on the