I can win your support for my cause.”
She kept her smile in place. “I’m afraid I would have to discuss the matter with…my husband.”
Stanfield cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. A promise I shall hold you to, my lady.”
Rule’s hand settled possessively at her waist. “If you will excuse us, there are some other people I would like my wife to meet.”
“Of course.” Stanfield made a polite bow and stepped out of their way. Leaving the man behind, she let Rule guide her rather forcefully toward a quiet area off the main part of the ballroom.
“It is not considered polite to discuss business matters at affairs such as these.”
“Is that so? Or is it merely impolite for a woman to discuss business matters at affairs such as these?”
Rule eyed her darkly. Then a corner of his mouth edged up. “You are not like other women, Violet Dewar. Perhaps that is the reason you intrigue me.”
“Do I?”
His blue eyes darkened. “In ways you are yet too innocent to understand.” He took her arm and laced it with his. “Come. We’ll make a pass round the ballroom. I’ll speak to a few more of the guests and then, if you are ready, we’ll go home.”
Violet breathed a sigh of relief. “I should like that above all things…my lord.”
It was the first time she had used his title and Rule grinned, carving the dimples she remembered into his cheeks.
“My lord?” he repeated as if she had finally accepted him as her master. “That has a very nice ring.”
She bit back a smile and shook her head. “You are a devil, Rule Dewar.” With the devil’s own charm.
And the way her stomach lifted when he looked at her the way he did now, as if she were a particularly delectable sweet, put her on guard.
If she weren’t extremely careful, she might wind up in the devil’s bed.
Rule left Violet in the care of his sisters-in-law and wove his way among the guests. As much as his somewhat tarnished reputation would allow, he wanted to smooth the way for his wife’s admittance into the inner sanctum of upper-class British Society.
As he paused here and there to speak to friends and answer questions about his bride and his unexpected marriage, he began to frown at some of the things he was overhearing. Gossip about the reasons for his hasty wedding, implications that his bride had been less than pure at the time they spoke their vows.
He tried to explain about Howard Griffin’s illness and the arrangement the man had made to secure his daughter’s future, but the more he talked, the more smug smiles and winks he received and the more irritated he became.
It surprised him to feel so protective of Violet when he had never felt that way about a woman before. He hadn’t known his mother, who had died giving birth to him. The only females in his family were his frail old aunt Agatha, whom he adored as the mother he never had, and his sisters-in law, whom he greatly respected.
He told himself his protectiveness came simply because Violet was his wife and not because he was so strongly attracted to her, not because he admired her for having the courage to travel all the way to England to confront him.
He watched her laughing at something Reese said. Reese, who rarely joked and hardly ever smiled until he married Elizabeth.
Rule liked it when Violet smiled. He would like it even more if one of those sweet smiles was intended for him.
He watched her until, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her cousin, Caroline. He straightened as he realized the girl was in conversation with his best friend, Lucas Barclay. Good God, Caroline Lockhart was as innocent as Violet, and, he noticed for the very first time, far more beautiful than he had realized.
And Luke was eyeing her like a wolf with a fresh piece of meat.
Rule strode toward them. “I see you’ve met my cousin, Miss Lockhart.”
One of Luke’s dark eyebrows went up. “Your cousin?”
“My wife’s cousin. My cousin by marriage.” Rule tried for a smile but it was thin at best.
“Ah, yes. I have yet to meet your lovely bride. Amazing, isn’t it? My best friend has a wife and I am the last to know.”
Rule sighed. “It’s a long story. I realize I owe you an explanation. Perhaps over lunch on the morrow?”
“Oh, indeed. Better late than never.” Luke’s tight smile softened as he gazed down at the little blonde. “In the meantime, Miss Lockhart has just agreed to partner me in a waltz.” He extended his arm. “Shall we, Miss Lockhart?”
She accepted Luke’s arm and returned his smile. “I would be delighted.”
They started forward but Rule stepped in front of them. “One dance, Luke. That’s all.”
Luke eyed him darkly. He made a stiff nod of his head. “I shall keep your wishes in mind.” But he didn’t say he would obey them. Luke was angry that Rule had kept his marriage a secret.
He had a right to be, Rule supposed. The two of them were like brothers.
But then he hadn’t told his brothers, either.
He watched the couple on the dance floor, Luke tall and dark, Caroline small, blue-eyed and fair. They made a handsome couple, might even make a good match—except that Luke was the biggest rake in London and fiercely opposed to marriage.
Rule inwardly sighed. Already his duties as husband were starting. He had a responsibility to his wife, but also to her family. He blew out a breath, wishing his first duty wasn’t to guard his cousin-in-law against his best friend.
Six
Half an hour passed. Rule decided to make a quick trip through the gaming room, see what sort of fires he might put out there, then collect his wife and go home.
He smiled as he walked down the hall, oddly pleased by the thought. My wife. Never once had it occurred to him he might like having a woman belong to him. Still smiling, he had just turned the corner when a lady gowned in scarlet silk appeared in front of him. Evelyn Dreyer, Viscountess St. Ives.
“Good evening, my lady,” he said to his former mistress. “You’re looking quite splendid tonight.” With her pale blond hair and amazing cheekbones, she was a beautiful woman. Rule gazed at her and thought of hair the color of flames and a pert nose dotted with intriguing little freckles.
“I just heard the news,” Evelyn said with a viperous smile. “You are married.”
“Yes, I am.”
“For quite some time, I gather.”
“Three years.” Though still not officially, since he hadn’t yet bedded his bride, but that was none of Evie’s business.
Her
