on, and he will put an end to it.’
Clarissa laughed, and it was no delicate silvery peal of ladylike mirth, but a belly-deep whoop of joy. ‘You mean to tell my husband? About me and Adam? Oh, my dear. My sweet, young innocent. You do not understand at all, do you? My husband already knows.’
Penny felt her stomach drop and thought with horror that she was likely to be sick on the floor of her own ballroom. What a ludicrous scene that would be. Clarissa, or any of the other ladies of her husband’s acquaintance, would have managed a genteel faint.
‘Clarissa, we must dance. You have monopolised our hostess long enough.’ Lord Timothy was standing behind her, and she prayed that he had not heard what his wife had been murmuring, for the situation was quite mortifying enough.
‘But I was having such a lovely chat with Penny.’ Clarissa’s voice was honey sweet.
‘I can see that.’ Tim’s was ice and steel. ‘She bears the look of one who has experienced one of your chats, darling. Drained of blood, and faint of heart. Remove your claws from her and accompany me.’ He laid a hand on Clarissa’s wrist and squeezed. ‘Or I will pry them loose for you.’
Clarissa laughed and released her, then turned to the dance floor. ‘Very well, Timothy. Let us dance. So long as it is not a waltz. I am saving the waltzes for someone special.’ Then she walked away as though nothing had happened.
Penny stood frozen in place, watching her, and felt Tim’s hand upon her shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’ His face was so close to her that his cheek brushed her hair. ‘I will see to it that my wife goes home early. And then we will speak. Until then, do not trouble yourself.’
She nodded without speaking.
He eased away from her, passing by to follow his wife. In a tone loud enough to be heard by people passing, he said, ‘Lovely party, your Grace. I never fail to find entertainment on a visit to Bellston.’
Chapter Fourteen
Penny closed her eyes, and focused on the sound of the room, rather than the faces of the people in it. She had thought things were going so well. But now, it was impossible to tell friends from enemies. When she was seventeen, the falsehoods and sly derision had come as a surprise. But she knew better now. When she looked closely at those around her, she could see from the strained expressions on the faces of her husband’s friends that she did not fit in.
And the looks of suspicion, jealousy and disdain seemed to follow, wherever Clarissa had been. The woman could spread discord like a bee spreads pollen.
Damn them all. She would send the guests away, just as Adam had told her she could. And never, ever, would she submit to such torture again. In time, Adam would forget about her, since it was obvious that he wished to be elsewhere. If it mattered so much to him that there be entertainment in his house, he would have been at her side when she was all but attacked by his mistress.
She steadied her breathing. To call a sudden halt to the proceedings would be even more embarrassing than to continue with them. If there were any left in the room that were not talking about her, they soon would be, once she drove them from her house and slammed the doors.
She would retire herself, then. It was embarrassing for a hostess to abandon her guests. But she found herself—suddenly indisposed. Too ill to continue, no doubt due to the stress of the event. People would understand. Some would know the cause of the indisposition, but not all. She might still save some small portion of pride.
She had but to find her husband, and tell him that it behoved him, as host, to rise from the card table, and attend to his guests, for she could not hold up another instant.
She exited the hall and was almost in the card room before she knew what she was about. The sound of male laughter echoed into the hallway.
It would be embarrassing to invade the privacy of the men, but it could not be helped. It was her house, after all. Even if she might need to continually remind herself of the fact.
She paused in front of the partially open door, standing behind it, and taking in a deep breath, scented with the tobacco smoke escaping from the room. And without intending to, she heard the conversation, escaping from the room as well.
‘Of course, now that Adam is an old married man, he will not be interested in cards or horses. I dare say your new bride does not approve of your track losses, Bellston.’
There was general laughter.
‘She has not yet had the chance to approve or disapprove of them, Mark. We have been married a short time, and even I cannot lose money so fast as that, despite my dashed bad luck. When one is throwing one’s money away, it takes time to pick a horse that can do the job properly.’
‘You took little enough care in the finding of a wife, Adam.’
So she was no different than choosing a jade. Anger mingled with shame at the hearing of it.
‘Indeed. You were alone when you left London. Wherever did you find her?’ It was her husband’s friend, John.
‘She found me, more like. I was not even looking.’ Her husband’s voice.
She drew back from the door. Her father had often told her that people who listened at keyholes deserved what they heard. She should retreat immediately if she did not want Clarissa’s stories confirmed.
‘She must have a fat purse, then, for you to marry so quickly.’
She could feel her cheeks reddening. One, two, three …
‘Her father was a cit?’ Another voice, edged with curiosity.
Four, five, six.
‘In printing, I believe,’ her husband answered. ‘Books and such. My wife is a great reader. Probably through his influence.’
Someone laughed. ‘What does a woman need with reading?’
Idiot. Her fists balled.
‘I wouldn’t know, myself. But she seems to value it.’ There was the faintest trace of sarcasm in her husband’s voice. And she relaxed her fists. ‘I imagine it proves useful, if one does not wish to appear as foolish as you.’
‘But it must take her time away from other, more important things,’ John responded. ‘Her appearance, for example. She is a bit of a quiz.’
Her husband, and his damned friends, sniping and backbiting, as she had seen them on the first day. She would not cry, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman, in her own house, and she would suffer these fools no longer, but go into the room and remind her husband who had paid for the party.
And then she noticed the silence emanating from the room. John’s comment had been followed by a mutter of assent, and some nervous laughter, that had faded quickly to nothing.
Her husband spoke. ‘I find her appearance to be singular. Her eyes, especially, are most compelling. Not to everyone’s taste, perhaps, but very much to mine. You might wish to remember that, in future, if you wish to visit my home.’ The warning in his voice was clear, and she imagined him the way he had been when he stood up to her brother. Quiet, but quite frightening.
