Free Season for Scandal by Theresa Romain Page B

and he soon found her in conversation with a familiar man. Edmund pawed through his memories, trying to place the square-jawed fellow before him.
    “. . . slid directly into the Ganges,” said the man to Jane. “Can you credit it? A river of mud, and I was riding atop it just like a child sledding down a snowy hill.”
    Bellamy, that was who it was. The sahib who had attended their wedding. That friend of Xavier’s or whatever the case might be.
    Edmund lurked at Jane’s side, waiting for her to notice his presence as her companion continued his thrilling tale about surviving a mudslide into the Ganges River.
    “Again, though, an elephant came to the rescue,” said the older man. “It wrapped its trunk about me and lifted me as if I was no more than a baby. I rode back to my home on its back and kept it as a pet. Why, the beast followed me everywhere, it was so devoted. I do believe it was sadder than I when I had to leave it behind in India. But one can hardly bring such a pet to London.”
    Edmund had to interject at this point. “You kept an elephant as a pet? Don’t they eat a great deal?”
    Jane turned to him, her expression turning from rapt attention to reproach at once. “Hallo, Kirkpatrick. You’ve missed the beginning of the story.”
    “Not at all, not at all.” Bellamy’s teeth flashed brilliantly white against his sun-browned skin. “Unless you’ve been to India, my lord, you wouldn’t realize just how easy it is to care for an elephant.”
    “I’ve not had the pleasure of going to India.” Edmund shrugged off the subject. “Jane, would you care to join—”
    “Do you recognize me, my lord?” The man’s smile widened.
    “Yes, you were at our wedding.” Edmund quashed a flicker of annoyance at the man’s interruption. “Bellamy, isn’t it?”
    “Indeed. My congratulations on a most lovely bride, my lord.” Bellamy turned to Jane. “I was just about to ask Lady Kirkpatrick if she would do me the honor of joining me for the supper dance.”
    Edmund frowned, but before he could protest, Jane spoke. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’ve already promised my husband.”
    “Ah.” A flash of regret crossed the man’s face; Edmund wanted to wipe his features clean for him. Daniel. “Well. Such devotion is to be expected in these early weeks. Enjoy it while it lasts, my lord. Lady Kirkpatrick.”
    With a bow to each of them, he slipped away through the crowd, and Edmund rounded on Jane. “You call him Daniel ? He’s all but a stranger, Jane. You don’t even call me by my Christian name.”
    She shot him a Look. “I did once. You didn’t seem to like it.”
    Edmund, I love you.
    “I liked it fine,” he said, keeping his voice gentle with an effort. “Henceforth, please address me with at least the same degree of intimacy that you use with recent acquaintances. Especially those who spout ridiculous tales about elephants.”
    “They were exciting tales. Since I’m interested in travel, he was telling me about his life in India. And he offered to let me use his Christian name. Did you notice, Edmund , that I did not make the same offer to him?”
    Edmund felt every sentence as a reproach. This odd wedding guest had captured his wife’s imagination, swiftly endeared himself to her. With his stories, he had brought her to India, while Edmund had taken her nowhere but a ballroom.
    “Besides,” she added, so low beneath the hubbub that Edmund bent his head to catch her words, “it was not as though you required my company. You were dancing holes in your boots with every other woman here.”
    “Are you jealous?” His brows knit.
    “What do you care?”
    “I care a great deal,” he said stupidly.
    She made an impatient gesture. “If you insist. Look . . . Edmund. I didn’t ask you for any of your time this evening. You volunteered it.”
    “Yes,” he said. “And I wanted—”
    “You wanted to dance with everyone else and leave behind your absurd little wife who doesn’t even