Free The Reluctant Marquess by Maggi Andersen Page A

the list.”
    She huffed. “As if I would. And I am married.”
    “Married? The prince’s ladies most often are. Some cuckolded husbands are busy elsewhere. Some suffer in silence. Royalty live by different rules.” Robert glowered down at her. “Prince or no, I’m not one of those husbands who will turn a blind eye, Charity.”
    Charity felt rather thrilled at the dangerous light in his eye. He said no more and began to introduce her to more people.
    She would never remember all their names. They were polite to her face, no doubt because of her high rank, but a buzz of conversation followed her. The aged Duke of Allthrop raised his pince nez. “That’s the chit who married young St Malin? Did all right for herself,” he said loudly. His wife whispered in his ear. “What? Don’t hush me. Pretty little thing.” Charity moved hurriedly away, her cheeks burning.
    She danced with Lord Branchford who seemed to gaze at a fixed point above her head. He trod heavily on her toes. “You are from the country, I believe, Lady St Malin.”
    Charity sighed. “Oxfordshire is not so terribly far from London, my lord.”
    “Ah, yes, but bucolic, eh? I have a hunting lodge in that area. We all withdraw to the country when the Season ends. I find it a bit of bore and short of the comforts one comes to expect.”
    Charity was about to disagree, but she remembered Robert’s warning and merely smiled as he escorted her from the floor.
    A handsome middle-aged couple approached them. The dainty woman smiled, but her partner, a heavy-set man scowled.
    “Robert, why didn’t you inform us?” the lady asked, reaching up to touch his face.
    Robert stepped back and bowed. “My bride, Lady St Malin,” he said stiffly. He turned to Charity, surprising her with the ridge of color on his cheekbones and the dark look in his eyes.
    “Charity, I’d like you to meet Lord and Lady Charlesworth.”
    “It is nice to meet you, my dear,” Lady Charlesworth said. “You did not invite us to the wedding, Robert.”
    “It was done quickly and simply, in the country.”
    Her eyes looked wistful. “Will you bring Lady St Malin to visit us soon?”
    “Alas, we have many social engagements to fulfill, my lady.”
    The lady’s pretty blue eyes filled with despair.
    ”I’m sure that is so.” Lord Charlesworth returned a cold bow and ushered his wife away.
    “Who were those people, Robert?” Charity watched the lady dab at her eyes with a handkerchief as they left the room.
    “My mother, and her second husband.” Robert’s fingers clutched her arm, and his cold, strained voice did not invite her to comment.
    Charity’s eyes widened, and she felt a rush of sympathy for the woman. Ignoring the warning, she said, “Your mother? But you were so harsh. Why, I believe she was crying!”
    Robert stared down at her, a fierce light in his eye. “Becoming my wife does not give you the right to question my behavior.”
    Charity clamped her lips together to stop herself answering back. It was inconceivable that such a thing could happen between family members. What on earth might have happened to cause this dreadful rift? She meant to learn more of this by more subtle means. This new-found determination surprised her.
    She took the floor only once with Robert. He danced well, and she would have liked to dance with him again, but he left her to the men crowding around her to gamble in one of the ante-rooms. Charity danced for hours. Her feet hurt in her new shoes, and the witty and salacious banter that swirled round her became exhausting. The Prince of Wales, who had left the ball along with his parents, was discussed at length.
    Mrs Maria Anne Fitzherbert had given birth to a son most felt sure had been sired by the prince. The marriage ceremony which took place between the prince and Mrs Fitzherbert in ’85 was deemed illegal as the lady was Roman Catholic. Some offered the opinion that the prince knew full well the truth of it when he proposed.