Regency Innocents: The Earl's Untouched Bride / Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride

And wondered why he had never thought of it before.

‘You will be accompanying me to the theatre.’ It had worked well for them in Paris. Why should it not work here?

‘I … I will?’ Finally, finally he was going to permit her to appear in public as his bride!

And people would look at how small and plain she was, and wonder why on earth he had married her when he could have had any woman for the lifting of his finger.

Charles watched the joy drain from her face.

‘Is the primrose satin ready?’ he asked tersely, refusing to voice his hurt.

It was not her fault she regarded an outing with him as a duty to be borne, when a trip to Vauxhall Gardens with his half-brother filled her with eager anticipation.

When she nodded, he said, ‘Wear it tomorrow.’ Without further comment, he gave her the kiss which was always the prelude to leaving her room.

It was only after he had gone that she allowed herself to feel resentful that he had not bothered to thank her for getting Robert to venture out of doors. Nobody else had succeeded in so much as rousing him out of his rooms for months. But could Charles unbend towards her enough to applaud her achievement? Not he!

But she still, foolishly, studied his face for some sign of approval as she descended the stairs the following evening, dressed according to his dictates. She felt a little uncomfortable in the high-waisted gown which would have left her arms completely bare were it not for the matching gloves that came past her elbows. The neckline glittered with the most intricate beadwork Heloise had ever seen. The motif of thistle-heads and leaves was picked up in the self-coloured stitching on her gloves, and repeated around the three flounces on her skirts.

‘Come into my study for a moment before we leave,’ he said, crooking his finger imperiously. His guarded expression told her nothing. ‘I have something I wish to give you.’

She followed him, her stomach feeling as though a nest of snakes had taken up residence there. She was thrilled he was taking her out, desperate to be a credit to him, terrified she would let him down, and agonisingly conscious of every single one of her physical deficiencies.

Walking to his desk, he opened a large, square leather case which had been lying on it, and pushed it towards her across the polished mahogany surface. Inside, nestling on a bed of black velvet, was a parure consisting of necklace, bracelet, earrings and an aigrette of pale yellow gems, in a rather heavy and elaborate setting of gold. From another box, which he produced from his pocket, he took a matching ring.

‘I wished to have given you this sooner, but on returning to London and examining it I found it needed cleaning.’

‘Oh?’ Her eyes filled with tears as he slid the ring, which fitted perfectly, onto her finger. He had bought Felice a ring that matched her eyes. When he had given it to her, he had said no jewel could compare with them. He had merely had some old baubles he’d had to hand cleaned up for his plain and undeserving wife.

Still, at least she understood now why he had ordered her to wear the primrose satin. There were not many fabrics that could complement such unusually coloured gems as the ones he lifted from the box and fastened in her ears.

‘Perfect,’ he said, standing back to admire the effect of the earrings glittering against the curtain of his wife’s dark hair.

Heloise stiffened her spine, stifling her momentary pang of self-pity. She had always known she was a second-best wife. Of course she would only get second-hand jewels! What had she expected? That her husband would begin to act out of character and forget that she was not the woman he had wanted to marry?

He was being very kind, considering the way she had acted since being installed in his home. He had never, for example, upbraided her for the scene she had created at dinner, when she knew such behaviour was what he deplored above all else. He had merely sent her food up to her room.

Because he was, she suddenly realised, a kind man underneath those chillingly controlled manners. It was why she had never really been able to stay afraid of him for longer than a minute at a time. Why she had been able to confide in him from the very first. She had even been secure enough to give way to the childish temper tantrums that her brother had predicted would drive any husband to give her a beating.

Charles would never beat her. He did not, she saw with a sinking heart, care enough about her to lose that glacial self-control.

‘I couldn’t have you going out without any jewellery, could I?’ he said, fastening the necklace round her throat.

‘No, I suppose not,’ she replied. He might not care about her much, but he cared about his own reputation. His Countess could not appear in public without adequate adornment. The dress, the jewels—they were just the costume that made her look the part she was playing.

Charles was rather perplexed by Heloise’s response. He had just hung diamonds worth a king’s ransom around her neck, and instead of going into raptures she seemed weighed down.

Could she be nervous at suddenly having so much wealth displayed upon her person? She had never owned much jewellery before.

Nor wanted it. She had not even been tempted to try on the emerald ring that had been her sister’s.

‘These are yours by right as my wife, you know, Heloise.’ The set of yellow diamonds had been in his family for generations, handed down to each new bride upon her wedding—except for the ring, which was given upon the occasion of the betrothal. ‘It never felt right that you had to wear that ring I bought in Paris.’

‘I shall never wear it again,’ she vowed. It must remind him of all he had lost! And while she had been complaining to herself of all that she did not have, she had entirely forgotten that her husband was still trying to recover from his broken heart. He was so good at disguising his emotions that it took moments like this to remind her how much he must still be hurting.

‘What are we going to see at the theatre tonight?’ she said, deciding that he would be more comfortable if they talked about trivial matters.

‘The beau monde,’ he quipped, taking her arm and leading her to the door. He was glad he had taken that moment to reassure her. Now that she had got over her initial reluctance to accept the family heirlooms, she might even be able to enjoy herself a little. ‘As in Paris, we go to the theatre to see who is in the audience, not what is being performed upon the stage. I expect that during the intervals persons wishing for an introduction to my new Countess will besiege our box. They will probably think,’

he remarked dryly, ‘that they will be able to get to me through you. I hope you will not be taken in.’ He frowned. ‘It would be best if you did not associate with anyone without checking their credentials with me first.’

Heloise was virtually silent all evening. At first, Charles wondered if he had said something to offend her. She had lifted her chin as he’d handed her to her seat, and stared fixedly at the stage throughout the first act. Fortunately, this had left her oblivious to the stir her appearance, decked in the Walton diamonds, had created.

Gradually, he recognised that this was the Heloise he had first become acquainted with. The quiet, reserved girl that nobody noticed. Who observed but did not participate. This public Heloise was a far cry from the termagant who yelled at his brother, flounced out of rooms, slammed doors, and rattled on without pausing to draw breath.

He welcomed her return when they got into the carriage to go home.

‘Charles,’ she breathed, leaning forward and tapping his knee with her ivory-handled fan. ‘Who was that dreadful man—the great big dark one who accosted us in the corridor during the interval?’

He smiled wryly. He had assumed it would be easier to control exactly whom he permitted to approach her if they went for a stroll, rather than sitting passively in their box and letting the importunate besiege them.

‘Lord Lensborough,’ he replied, no doubt in his mind as to who she meant.

The Marquis had stood directly in their path, blocking their progress. And when he had said, Allow me to felicitate you upon your marriage,’ his hostility had been unmistakable.

‘Is he one of the family you won’t speak to because of what they did to Robert?’

‘Far from it. If anything, he regards himself as Robert’s champion. His own brother, who serves in Robert’s former regiment, was so concerned about the Turkish treatment I would mete out, he wrote begging Lensborough to watch over him.’

‘Oh. I am so sorry.’ Heloise laid one gloved hand upon her husband’s sleeve.

‘For what?’ It was ridiculous, he reflected with a frown, that his spirits should lift just because she had forgotten herself so far as to reach out and touch him.

‘That people should so misunderstand you. What do they think you mean to do with Robert? Is he not your brother? Your heir?’

‘Alas, from Lord Lensborough’s reaction this evening, I fear they suspect that I mean to cut him out by siring an heir of my own. Through you.’

‘Well, that just goes to show,’ she said, snatching back her hand, remembering his reaction when she had made such an impulsive gesture once before, ‘how silly they are.’ Couldn’t they see how devoted Charles was to his brother? Didn’t they understand how outraged he had been by the way his guardians had tried to cut him out of the succession?

Charles sighed. The reminder that she would one day have to face this distasteful duty as a wife had brought about an instant withdrawal.

But at least when he went to her room later, to bid her goodnight, she seemed to be in good spirits.

‘Thank you for this evening, Charles,’ she said prettily, when he bent to bestow a chaste salutation on her forehead. ‘I did enjoy it.’

‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you seemed … abstracted.’

‘Oh, well …’ She fidgeted nervously with the ties of her robe, her cheeks flushing pink as she averted her eyes from his.

Ah! She was relieved it was over. But she did not wish to wound him by confessing as much.

She wanted him gone. Very well, he would oblige her! He would not force his unwelcome presence on her a moment longer. Turning on his heel, he stalked from the room.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Heloise flung back the covers and went to the desk which she had converted to a drawing table. She had nearly given the game away then. It was just that there had been so many odd people at the theatre. And the knowledge that there was, at last, a fresh sheaf of drawing paper and a selection of really good-quality pencils hidden in a box beneath her bed was like a tonic fizzing through her veins. Now that she was a countess, with an army of staff at her disposal, she did not have to search the shops for what she wanted. She simply sent her maid, Sukey, with a list, and voilà ! After an hour or so the girl returned with exactly what she requested! And, since Sukey was so grateful for the meteoric rise in her status, she would rather cut her own throat, she had breathed dramatically, than ever betray Her Ladyship’s confidence.

Heloise only felt a small twinge of conscience for continuing with a pastime Charles frowned upon. So long as he did not find out, it could not hurt him.

And so many ideas had flooded to her while she had been studying the crowds tonight. Beau monde! She scoffed as she pulled a stool to her desk and lit the two lamps she had placed there for moments such as this. There was nothing beau about the manners of some of those people! They ignored the efforts of the actors upon the stage for the most part, which was rude, since they had clearly gone to a great deal of effort for the entertainment of an audience that was interested only in its own members. Except for certain of the men, when the pretty young dancers came on. Then it was all tongues hanging out and nudging elbows, and comments which she was certain were coarse, though fortunately she had not been able to hear them. And as for that obnoxious marquis, who harboured such uncharitable thoughts towards both Charles and herself … well! She had seen the plump little blonde sitting beside him in his own private box, giving him sheep’s eyes. A woman who was clearly not his wife. And he had the temerity to look askance at her !

Dawn was filtering through her curtains before Heloise began to yawn. Her excitement had driven her to fill page after page with initial sketches. Later, when she had the interminable hours of daylight to fill, she would add the detail and bring the scenes to life with judicious touches of watercolour paint. Yes … She yawned again, sloughing off her robe and letting it drop to the floor. There was much to be said about an evening spent at the English theatre.

And tonight the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall would provide even more material for her portfolio.

Robert was to dine with them both before taking her out. Charles had sent a note to inform her.

This time there were no arguments. There was scarcely any conversation at all. It was as though all three of them were determined to say nothing that might spark another confrontation.

Eventually, Charles remarked, ‘I shall not be dining at home for the next few evenings, Lady Walton. I warned you before we married that I have an interest in politics. And at this particular time, with Bonaparte on the rampage again, you will appreciate that I must be busy in the affairs of my country.’

Of course she understood. In Paris, it was in the private salons of influential hostesses that statesmen decided which line they were going to take in public. Similar meetings must go on in London.

She nodded. Robert scowled.

She was not surprised when, the second they got into Walton’s private carriage, which he had put at their disposal for the outing, Robert blurted, ‘He’s not going to back those fools who want to try and appease Bonaparte, is he?’

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