Free Royal Regard by Mariana Gabrielle Page B

Huntleigh
in two weeks than he could possibly explain.
    “It is not difficult to keep you away,” Lord
Huntleigh said, not quite joking, and turned to his wife. “My dear,
if you will forgive, we can find the card room to discuss our
business.” He pinched her cheek. “And you must never entertain the
Duke of Wellbridge outside my company. Any man with a wife will
tell you so.” He motioned to Nick. “Shall we attempt to avoid the
ballroom entirely?”
    About an hour later, Nick made his way back
to her. “Lady Huntleigh, I had not meant to keep you from the
dancing.”
    She looked up in surprise. “My goodness, Your
Grace, you startled me. Are you finished with your business then?”
She peered around him, twisting her hands together. “Is my husband
behind you?”
    “Any moment.” He leaned in and lowered his
voice. “You needn’t call me ‘Your Grace,’ you know. You are an
unquestioned countess now, not a country-mouse-come-to-Town.”
    She made a concerted effort to disengage her
fidgety hands, but merely moved them from her waist to begin
worrying the fabric of her skirt. “Hardly unquestioned, Your
Grace.” She conceded with a nod, almost in a whisper, “Duke.” She
couldn’t stop the nervous twitching of a wallflower, which might
explain her not dancing, if one discounted gossip as the more
likely justification.
    Before they had retired to play whist, Nick
had noted her faintly injured glances toward Lord Huntleigh. They
must have had a fight before the party, or Huntleigh said something
thoughtless or hurtful. It wasn’t so important she would feign a
megrim to go home, but not so small she would forget by morning.
Though most women would be flagrantly flirting with every man
present to make known any upset with their husbands.
    Huntleigh, Nick had discovered in the card
room, saw nothing wrong at all, just a youthful, compliant,
entirely respectable girl who did everything he asked. He had been
nothing but generous in everything he said about her, though never
as besotted as some old men become about their young wives. She was
a veritable paragon, to hear her husband tell it—as hostess and
nursemaid and housekeeper and opponent at backgammon. He probably
didn’t even realize she might be pleasing in the bedroom.
    Nick would be doing this poor young lady a
service, paying her a bit of attention, he told himself, liven
things up a bit. Every woman deserves to know when a gentleman
thinks she’s pretty, and any husband unaware his wife is upset with
him really had no right to keep her. Nick was flabbergasted
Huntleigh didn’t realize they had been having a disagreement all
evening, perhaps longer.
    “I must apologize for requiring so much of
Lord Huntleigh’s time. I had no idea you might not find other
partners, or I would never have spirited him away.”
    “It is of no concern. My husband only ever
attends parties to advance his business, and I keep myself
entertained. The Estermore’s picture gallery rivals any I’ve seen
outside a royal residence or museum.”
    “I shall make a point of viewing it, so we
might have a topic of conversation next time we meet.” He paused,
uncertain if his usual gambit would produce a positive result, but
more impatient than usual in his pursuit. “Unless you should like
to adjourn there to guide me through the collection.”
    She took two blatant steps away, but couldn’t
help her body turning toward him, eyes dropping. “I entertain
myself, Sir, not gentlemen of my husband’s acquaintance.”
    He immediately withdrew his impropriety, but
not entirely the intent. “Such a shame you should have to entertain
yourself in the absence of admiring company.”
    She looked around at the crowds either
staring pointedly away from her or talking about her behind their
hands, and shrugged one shoulder. “I prefer my own society to the
entertainments of the Season.”
    “Do you?” He had seen the momentary longing
on her face as she watched the couples