"Should I dress your hair in a knot behind?" asked the maid.
A knot sounded very decorous, and Beth agreed, but when it was done Beth knew it had not helped. With her hair drawn tightly up, her neck appeared more slender, and when the diamond necklace was clasped around it, positively swanlike. Resigned, Beth allowed the maid to a.s.sist her into the long kid gloves and fasten the bracelet over one wrist. Redcliff then clipped the pendant diamonds onto her ears and pinned the brooch in the center of the knot of ribbons on her bandeau.
It only remained to step into her satin slippers and stand before the mirror. Beth knew what she would see. It was Beth Armitage at her prettiest-slender but well-rounded, clear-skinned and glossy-haired. The problem, as she had known, was that she still was no beauty. She did well enough and her hosts would have no cause to blush for her, but this, the best that could be done for her, left her still just a pa.s.sably pretty young woman. She would rather not appear to have tried.
She was surprised when told the marquess had come to escort her downstairs but accepted her fate with resignation. Tonight was their acting debut.
She had forgotten to wonder what he would look like. Her breath caught at the sight of him in formal black and pure white, his tanned skin and golden hair thrown into brilliance. She felt that little tremor inside which warned her again that she was not immune to his charms.
Why should she wish it when he was to be her husband?
Because it was a matter of pride not to go willingly into slavery.
"How pretty you look," he said in a friendly way.
Nerves abraded, Beth responded sharply, "I could say the same to you, I think. Fine feathers do make fine birds, do they not?"
His eyes flashed, but his smile never faltered. He drew her arm into his and they began their walk.
"Are you suggesting, Miss Armitage, that under this magnificence, I am a mere sparrow?" His tone was still light.
She glanced up at him. "Too small. A rooster, perhaps?"
He met her look and, though he continued to smile, his eyes were chilling rapidly. "You a.s.sume I will not take vengeance when you are in all your finery? You could be right. But perhaps I will hold a grudge."
That was too close to the mark. Beth knew she was guilty of holding onto her resentment. "Then we can be a pair of broody hens," she said bitterly, "sitting on our grievances until they hatch into disaster."
She intended it to be a kind of peace offering and perhaps he took it that way for he laughed. "I refuse to be any species of fowl. I prefer to be thought of as a hawk. n.o.ble hunter, sharp of claw."
That was too frightening an image. "I"m sure you do," Beth said tartly, "but I think it is more a case of a magpie, s.n.a.t.c.hing at small glittering things of no particular value."
"And you, my dear," he retorted, good humor fled, "to stretch the a.n.a.logy a little, are developing into a harpy, all teeth and claws."
Without warning he opened a door and swung her into a room. A bedroom.
Beth looked up at him wide-eyed, fear shivering along her nerves. Why could she not control her clever tongue? Why could she not remember he was quite unlike any man she had ever known?
He was dangerous.
Beth the radical reminded herself she had determined to stand up to the marquess. Beth the cautious whispered that she hadn"t reckoned on doing it alone, in a bedroom.
"What are you doing?" she said. It came out rather squeakily.
He was not touching her, but he was standing close, deliberately looming over her. Beth forced herself to not step back. "I am reminding you of our bargain," he said tersely. "Are you going to behave yourself tonight?"
It was the wrong word to use. Beth intended to honor her bargain, but she did not like to be told to behave herself. She raised her chin. "Do you not see me dressed like a peac.o.c.k," she asked bitterly, "sporting the family jewels?"
"You know that is only the minor part."
Beth sneered. "I am not going to call you a baboon in front of your friends and neighbors, my lord."
His lips tightened. "Not good enough, Elizabeth. The only sane reason for this match is that we are in love. Madly, crazily in love. Good breeding takes away the necessity for us to be demonstrative, thank G.o.d." He took a step back, but that was no relief, for he used the s.p.a.ce to let his eyes wander dismissively over her.
Beth could feel herself color.
"But," he drawled, "we need a certain something in the eyes, don"t you think?"
Beth forced a careless shrug and gave him exactly the same slow dismissive scrutiny. "It will be an effort, my lord, but I will try."
She heard his breath hiss between his teeth. He stepped closer again and placed one finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Make sure you do, Elizabeth, or I will take payment for the dishonored debt."
"You do not try at all," she said fiercely, jerking away from his touch. "Can you not see this is no way to make me be as you would wish?"
He moved away and turned to face her, one brow raised. "How then? I have been as kind as I know how and had it thrown in my face. I have offered you kisses and had them rejected. I have left you be and returned to sharp words. At the moment, my dear bride-to-be, I simply want to be sure there will be no scandal from this evening. I"m not considering your feelings at all."
"That is blunt," said Beth, shocked by his all-too-accurate a.n.a.lysis.
"You once said you preferred plain speaking. You have it. Behave yourself."
Beth felt a tremor and did not know whether it was fear or anger. "Like most animals, my lord, I do not like the whip." She took a deep breath and fought for composure before this quarrel spun out of control. "If you would stop reminding me you have the upper hand I think I would behave a great deal better." She meant it to be a conciliatory suggestion, but he did not take it that way.
"I see no sign of that," he said implacably. "But if you behave well I will have no reason to wield the whip, will I?"
Beth clenched one fist and drove it into her other palm. She had never felt so close to violence. "But it is always there!" she protested. "I can never for one moment be unaware of your power!"
He shrugged, and she could tell he was genuinely perplexed by her words. "That is the way of the world, Elizabeth. You cannot change it and neither can I. If I promise never to compel you to do anything, that won"t alter the fact that I could, and probably with the full force of the law behind me."
He offered a smile and she could tell he was making a genuine effort to be kind. "There"s no need for all this heat, my dear. I am not likely to be a demanding husband, and pretty women generally find it easy enough to control their men. I know many men who live under the cat"s paw."
It was as if a chasm yawned between them, as if they spoke different languages entirely. Anger drained from Beth, leaving only sadness. "You need not fear that, my lord," she said quietly. "I will never try to use feminine wiles to rule you."
With that she turned away toward the door but waited politely for him to open it.
"You will notice," he said as she walked out ahead of him, "that I suppressed the obvious rejoinder."
Beth responded to his light tone with one of her own. "That you would prefer feminine wiles? You are bound for disappointment there, Lord Arden. I have none."
"How fortunate then," he drawled, "that I have wiles enough for two."
It was, she supposed, a gallant attempt on both their parts to restore some kind of harmony, but the evening loomed before them, full of traps and disasters.
They walked along in silence until they were nearly at the open doors of the drawing room. A rumble of conversation escaped the room, lightened by exclamations and laughter. Through the door Beth could see a number of glittering people, and she knew there were many more out of sight. She came to understand his concern about appearances. They were about to go on stage before the cream of the county.
She stopped and turned to him. "I"m sorry if I"ve been unreasonable, my lord. I no longer seem to know right from wrong, sense from nonsense. When we are struggling to keep afloat in strange waters, we do not always take care of others."
He considered her seriously and again she had the impression that he was at least trying to understand her point of view. He began to reply, then glanced over her shoulder. "We are observed. I am going to give you a very small kiss, Elizabeth. It will do our reputation as mad romantics a world of good and cut down," he added dryly, "on the required number of languishing looks."
Despite an urge to escape, Beth stood still as he held her by the shoulders and touched his lips to hers. As he said, it was gentle and unalarming, but it was not without effect. It was their first kiss and contained a grain of something of worth-perhaps concern, or even the greater warmth of embryonic friendship. Beth was aware that it was precious and raised one hand to gently touch the side of his handsome face.
He gave her a swift suspicious look. With a sinking heart, she realized he saw the gesture as evidence of boldness. Quicksands indeed.
She was not a blushing schoolgirl, after all. She was mature and confident, with at least book knowledge of men and yet, because of her foolish words, if she relaxed for a second he saw her as wanton. With a sigh, she replaced her hand on his arm and allowed herself to be drawn into the lion"s den.
The large, gilded drawing room was hung with huge Gobelin tapestries separated by ornate pilasters. The arms of the de Vaux, repeated again and again in blue, red, and gold marched across the ceiling lit by hundreds of candles in scintillating chandeliers which seemed to spark flashes from ostentatious jewelry and avid eyes. Conversation ceased. To Beth it appeared they were the focus of hundreds of pairs of eyes.
Her hand clutched at the marquess"s arm.
The duke and d.u.c.h.ess came forward to stand by their side. Then the duke introduced Beth. All these friends and neighbors applauded, but Beth was sure she could see incredulity in some eyes and envy in others. When the guests looked away and recommenced their chatter, Beth knew that now they were talking about her.
She could imagine the words. "Such a dab of a thing."
"Nothing special about her at all."
"Can"t hold a candle to...."
Abandoning notions of independence, Beth thanked the heavens that the nature of the occasion made it proper for the marquess to stay by her side, for she might otherwise have given in to panic. As it was she found her nerves jumping from the number of people-and these were only the ones invited to dinner-and the way they looked at her as she and the marquess circled the room talking to first one group then the next.
There were impertinent questions. There were jealous looks from a number of young ladies and their mamas. There was insincere, gushing familiarity. She was amazed and embarra.s.sed by the number of people who tried to toady to her. She was really just Beth Armitage, schoolteacher.
The three young men brought from London seemed to have no problems with the betrothal. Beth wondered what the marquess had told them, for these guests must know him well.
Lord Amleigh was a handsome, dark-haired young man with lively gray eyes. He seemed rather intense, almost fiery.
Lord Darius Debenham was sandy haired with blue eyes. He would never be described as handsome, but his lively features were full of attractive good humor. He looked exactly the kind of man who would try to build a champagne fountain.
Major Beaumont was rather like the marquess in build and almost matched him in looks in a dark-haired, dark-eyed way. She noted with sympathy his empty sleeve.
The three were talking to two local men-Mr. Pedersby and Sir Vincent Hooke, both ruddy-faced and a little too loud.
It was Major Beaumont who stepped forward after the introductions. "Well, Miss Armitage," he said, raising her hand and kissing it with the air of a practiced flirt. "So you are Arden"s secret treasure. I can quite see how it is. You are definitely out of the usual way."
Beth glanced up sharply to see if there was innuendo in that comment, but if so it was well-concealed. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I have never sought to be one of the herd."
"But you are the very leader of the flock," said Sir Vincent with a silly laugh. "The flock of beauties who have hunted poor Arden down."
Beth glanced to the marquess for help, but he was laughing at some remark by Lord Darius. She gave in to the temptation to vent her irritation on a suitable target. "Flock?" she queried lightly, making play with her fan. "Sheep? But sheep do not hunt. Or starlings? Pray tell me, Sir Vincent. Which birds hunt in flocks?"
"Well...." Plump Sir Vincent had turned even redder and was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "A manner of speaking...."
"Perhaps you meant wolves," said Beth kindly in her best schoolmistress manner. "The collective noun, however, is pack. Or lions? A pride?"
She became aware that the marquess, along with everyone else in the group, was listening to her.
"Are we starting a zoo?" he asked mildly. "A pride of lions? Perhaps it should be a pride of dukes."
Beth couldn"t help a laugh. "Or marquesses. What about a peep of chickens? We could change that to a peep of maidens."
"A gaggle of geese becomes a gaggle of dowagers," he returned with a grin. "No, that doesn"t work too well. I have a better one. A leap of leopards. A leap of libertines."
"Should I perhaps "peep" at that one?" asked Beth, delighted at this quick-witted and absurd conversation. "And what would you do with a shrewdness of apes, my lord?"
"A shrewdness of schoolteachers," he said triumphantly. "We are neglecting our guests, my dear."
Beth became aware of the five young men watching them with various degrees of astonishment. For a few moments she had forgotten her circ.u.mstances and discovered something precious. She could not remember matching her wits like that before and it was a heady delight. She flashed a quick, self-conscious look at the marquess and met a similar one of his own. He, too, had been surprised.
It was Viscount Amleigh who stepped into the silence. "You"d need a very special word, Miss Armitage, to describe the hunting beasts of Almack"s."
Beth smiled at the young man who had doubtless been pursued there with great determination. "A militia of mamas?" she offered.
"A desperation of debutantes," was the marquess"s dry contribution. "I think we should stop, Elizabeth, or we"ll get an unconquerable reputation for bookishness." He turned to his friends. "I didn"t bring you three here to enjoy yourselves, you know. You"re supposed to be lessening the desperation of some of the local debutantes. You, too, Pedersby, Sir Vincent."
The men good-humoredly took their marching orders and went off to pay addresses to the young ladies sitting quietly with their parents.
Still relaxed from that exchange of wit, Beth grew careless. "Do you regret your bachelorhood, my lord?"
He looked down at her coolly. "What has that to say to anything? I do not blame you for our situation." There was a slight emphasis on the p.r.o.nouns.
Forgetting where they were, Beth felt anger boil in her again "Well-"
She gasped as her elbow was taken in a vice like grip and pain shot up her arm. She found herself in a chair.
"You are unwell, Elizabeth?" asked the marquess kindly.
The d.u.c.h.ess hurried over. "Is something the matter, my dears?"
Beth shook her head, hiding her shock. "Not at all," she said. "I felt a sudden pain," she glanced up at the cool eyes of her betrothed, "...from my ankle. I sprained it last year and it sometimes betrays me."
"I hope it will not prevent you from dancing, Elizabeth," said the d.u.c.h.ess.
Beth stood. "Oh no, Your Grace. It was the marquess"s excessive concern that forced me to sit in the first place."
They were back into conflict again. At that moment the meal was announced and, as it was a betrothal event, Beth had to place her hand on his arm and lead the procession to the formal dining room.
"What a remarkable liar you are," he said with cool admiration.
"Yes, aren"t I?" replied Beth, too angered by that moment of brutal dominance to choose her words.
They went ten steps in silence and she could not resist the urge to look over at him.
His lips were tight and his eyes cool. "Yes, it was unwise, wasn"t it? If you fight me, Elizabeth, you will lose and be hurt into the bargain. You can hardly expect me to be concerned about your sensibilities."
"What happened to our truce?" she asked with quiet intensity.
"It holds as long as you behave yourself."
Beth bit back angry words and faced forward again. Her situation, she thought bitterly, reminded her of a forlorn hope, when soldiers facing defeat without chance of survival, charged bravely, foolhardily, at the enemy. She could be compliant and enslaved, or she could fight and be defeated.
She could at least die with honor. A flaming row was out of the question and so, as they took their seats, she took up more subtle weapons. "I promise," she said sweetly, "to be exactly the kind of bride you deserve, oh n.o.ble one."