Chapter 19

T he large ballroom glimmered with candlelight, brandishing the grandeur of the mansion, exhibiting every aspect, displaying every item to perfection. An air of magic and mystery drifted aimlessly, captivating the guests and luring them into enchantment. In the center of the room, a group of reflective stars hung above a crystal waterfall. Clouds of white lined with beads were draped between columns surrounding the dance floor of sparkling glass. Rebekah stared in awe.

"Lady Mayweather has outdone every matriarch in London. Her ball shall be on the tongues of every member of the ton," Penelope said.

At the moment, all Rebekah could do was stare. She could hardly contain her excitement—and her dread. The room was filled to overflowing. How would she spot Aaron in this crush of nobles.

Her heart did a little flutter. How could she not? Aaron was taller than most, a broad chest with muscle, and his hair held the brilliance of the sun. Most likely he would have it tied back this evening.

Even though Rebekah tried to prepare herself and develop an attitude of languid nonchalance, on the inside she was a bundle of nerves. She was a participant in a well manufactured sham. Aunt had helped her choose the perfect gown, and of course Madame Lasselle had assured her it was the latest fashion. Joyanna's personal maid did Rebekah's hair. When she'd seen herself in the mirror, she could barely believe the woman staring back at her. She'd felt like a princess attending her first ball.

Sorrow loomed with her role of achievement, hiding her broken heart. Playing the lovely, cheerful woman who cared not a whit about her husband's indiscretions. She tried not to judge him too harshly. He had given her a house to live in—without him. He'd saved her reputation—which she didn't give a hoot about. He promised to take care of her father—Papa was happy. And he'd given her a ready-made family—that treated her better than he did.

She held her head high, pasted a smile on her face, and damned her husband to hell.

And then she saw him.

Of course he was breathtaking.

Aaron cut a fine figure in his tailor-made clothes. Taller than she remembered, and his coat stretched tight over his broad shoulders. Aaron was no dandy with lace at his cuffs. But the diamond pin in his neckcloth drew her gaze to his throat. Men were handsome, but Aaron was so much more. Dashing, with an air of danger. His waistcoat with silver embroidery stretched over his sizeable muscles. He held the strong presence of a confident stallion. His trousers clung to his well-defined thighs. He was most handsome and sharp with nary a piece out of place. His long hair had been tied back showing his prominent jaw.

She lifted her gaze to his eyes. His stark gaze frightened her, and at the same time sent a zinging heat to her core. His eyes roamed over the entire length of her, then ever so slowly returned to her face. A knot formed in her chest. Tingles of apprehension shot through her limbs, and she silently prayed her knees would hold her steady. While their eyes were locked on each other, one corner of his mouth lifted in a forced grin.

Good. Let him be angry. He'd ignored her long enough. She'd been left to survive on her own, she was not about to fall at his feet. The arrogant poop was too sure of himself. Their sham of a marriage was about to be put to the test.

Aunt watched her. Waiting to see if Rebekah was made of the starch that Aunt had assured her she was. She postured as she'd been taught, remembering the last few months, and why she was here.

There was no going back.

Aaron strode toward her. The entire room had gone quiet. The world was watching, waiting, to see the lovebirds unite. She would not give them the satisfaction—give him the satisfaction—of seeing her falter. If the ton wanted a polished lady, then they would get one.

"Hello, wife." Aaron's words pierced her, quiet enough only she heard. The evil grin on his face looked like a wolf ready to devour everything in his path. He took her gloved hand and bent low, kissing the back. Even through her glove, she felt his heat.

She shook off the moment of weakness, and mentally kicked herself for being drawn in. Placing her fan in front of her face, she whispered in the same tone he had used. "So, you do remember."

His gaze shot to hers, letting her know the mark had hit its target.

She lowered the fan, and said loudly for the onlookers, "How perceptive you are, dear husband. Thank you for allowing me my … private time. I have missed you." Let the ton think of that what they will.

Whispers murmured at once, the buzz growing louder around the room. Someone signaled the orchestra, and a melody filled the hall.

Never releasing her hand, Aaron placed her fingers on the sleeve of his coat. Instinct made her jerk away, but he caught her hand with his own, forcing her to leave it in the crook of his elbow.

"Don't worry, husband," she snapped, keeping a smile on her face. "I won't embarrass you."

His brow furrowed, and the vein at his temple jerked.

Not so sure of yourself now are you ?

Let him see she was no meek mouse.

"May I have this dance, darling?"

Darling. She wanted to snarl in his face.

"Of course, my love." She beamed at him. Flashing her eyelashes was too much, so she decided not to do it. She was no simpering miss, no debutante with stars in her eyes. She knew the real Aaron Greystoke. No one should envy his wife.

He led her to the dance floor, with the courtliness of an aristocrat. At that moment, she was thankful she had paid attention to Serena and Joyanna.

Aaron's face softened as he placed his hand at her waist. Rebekah accepted his gallantry, knowing it was for the benefit of the observers. For the evening, she would keep up the pretense of doting wife.

As Aaron whirled her on the highly polished dance floor, she refused to be intimidated by his perfect steps. It was no great surprise that he was a superb dancer. She was a fast learner. The instructor Aunt hired to tutor Rebekah had even given her a compliment, saying she had a natural talent.

Aaron gripped her hand tighter. He bent close, his voice low enough so others would not hear.

"Have you grown bored in Surrey, wife?"

It was now out in the open. The ton now saw with their own eyes that Aaron Greystoke had a wife.

"Did you think your wife so ugly you had to hide me away?"

His brows rose with his surprise.

Yes, Aaron, I am no meek mouse.

"Or perhaps you thought I would embarrass you?"

He gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight she thought it might crack. "It appears, dear wife, we need to have a serious discussion."

"Certainly," she said with a nod. "Would you prefer to check your calendar to see when you might be available to fit me in?"

"Do not test me, Rebekah. There are limits—even for a wife."

"Oh, then, you do remember you have one."

"Bloody hell."

"Be cautious, husband. You do want to keep up appearances, do you not?"

"I would rather not have scandal reach Aunt Penelope."

"Hiding your bride in Surrey and attending parties and balls as a bachelor is not scandalous? But then, there is a separate set of rules for gentlemen. And I use that term loosely."

Good God, she was lovely. More lovely than he remembered. If he was not so shocked, so stunned, he could truly enjoy Rebekah's beauty. If he was not angry, he could allow his lust free rein. Rebekah was a beautiful, desirable woman. Her hair had grown into glossy waves that tumbled over her shoulders. Sooty lashes enhanced the bright blue in her eyes. Her curves had filled out rather nicely drawing any man's gaze.

She looked delectable enough to shake any man's control. Her low-cut bodice had half the bucks in this room already with their tongues hanging out, and most likely planning a rendezvous with his wife.

Aaron took a peek at her bosom. Her lush, creamy bosom. He could almost feel his hands grasping her flesh.

Bloody hell. Snap out of it.

Just what was she and Aunt up to? He knew Rebekah showing up in London, coming to Haverson's ball, had been his aunt's idea. She was forcing him to acknowledge his wife. He thought about the betting book at White's. Let the ton go hang.

"What are you doing here?"

"Are you not happy to see me?" Sweet and docile would not describe Rebekah, yet here she was, acting like a cheerful debutante.

"You should have told me you wanted to come to Town."

"And how, pray tell, was I to communicate with my absent husband? By carrier pigeon? Or perhaps the widows of the ton. After all, those ladies know more regarding your whereabouts than I do."

And there was the woman he knew.

Aaron forced the smile to stay on his lips while the muscle in his jaw clenched. "Since you are here with Aunt Penelope, I will assume she had a hand in this."

"You may assume whatever you like, dear husband."

"Smile, darling. Your facade is slipping."

Her eyes flashed with fire. "I should think, Husband, if you are going to bring up duplicity, perhaps you should look to yourself. Were the ladies of the ton aware of your matrimonial state?"

Anger impaled him. No one dared to call him a liar. "You go too far, dear Wife ," he growled. "You know very well the news of our nuptials spread before the wedding ceremony took place."

"And what a lovely ceremony it was." Her smile flashed and she moved with the music expertly. Her eyes glared daggers and promises that he would pay later.

Just what did she think she could do?

"Whatever will you do now that the cat is out of the bag? Or should I say the jailed wife has broken free from her prison."

"Prison?" If they were not in front of a million curious eyes, he would throttle her.

"Yes, Aaron. The only thing worse than being married to you is being pitied." She tried darting off, but he would not let her go.

"Oh, no, my butterfly. You will not stalk off in the middle of our dance."

She surprised him by continuing with their steps.

"Would that be humiliating?"

"Not only to me," he ground out. She would suffer more than anyone else. "Now, shut up and pretend you want to dance with me."

She seemed to consider her options. Then she placed an alarming smile on her face and gave the appearance she was enjoying herself.

Talk about two very different sides to one's personality.

"I had no idea what parties awaited me in London."

The cheeky chit was toying with him. "You like parties, do you?"

"Since you never took me to any, I have nothing to compare. However, if they are like this one, I think I shall have a grand time during the season."

Over my dead body.

"Aaron. You look distressed? Is anything amiss?"

"I believe it is time for us to leave."

She looked surprised. Then the blasted luring smile was back on her face. He would get her out of here before another randy buck took notice and was tempted by her appeal. Good God, he would not fight admirers for his wife's attention.

He took her arm, and escorted her from the throng of dancers.

"Where are we going, darling?"

"We are leaving."

She dug in her heels. "You may do as you wish. I am going to stay."

Aaron was so stunned he could only stare. His wife was defying him? In a room full of onlookers?

Devil take her.

His grip on her arm tightened. "You are coming with me, Wife ."

"Are you going somewhere, Rebekah?"

He recognized that voice immediately. Edmund. Damn him for his interference.

"Step aside, brother. My wife is leaving with me."

"Joyanna," Edmund spoke to his wife keeping his gaze on Aaron. Why don't you and Rebekah go to Aunt Penelope, while I discuss manners with my brother."

Joyanna looped her arm through Rebekah's and waved her fan. "I agree, Rebekah. Shall we join Penelope?"

Aaron glared at Edmund as the women walked away. "Enjoy your sneering grin while you can, brother. If you try to stop me, you may lose a few of those shining teeth."

Edmund threw his head back and laughed. "Damned good one, Aaron. Damned good one. Now, shall we discuss this in private?"

"Glad to see you making jokes. Because a moment ago, it looked as though you were about to cause a scene, Aaron."

Aaron cringed. Another brother. "Good of you to join us, Nathaniel. I have a bone to pick with you."

"Pick away, brother. Just remember Aunt, and as well as the rest of the ton, is watching."

Damn the bloody ton.

"Very well. We'll discuss the matter later. As for now, we are leaving."

"We?" Nathaniel raised a brow.

"Don't goad me, brother." Aaron moved to step around Nathaniel, Edmund blocked him.

"Stop right there, brother. Wife or no, you will not manhandle Rebekah. Did you not even notice you were bruising her arm?"

What? Bollocks. No, he hadn't.

"She came with me," Nathaniel pointed out. "When she is ready, I will take her home?"

Aaron snapped his head to Nathaniel. There were so many things wrong with that statement. One—who did his damn brother think he was? Two—why was Nathaniel sticking his nose in Aaron's business. Three—when she was ready?

"Where is Serena?"

"How kind of you to ask. As you know she is heavy with child, and her time nears. She is indisposed."

"So, you decided to bring my wife to a ball?"

"Down, Pup." Nathaniel growled in a whisper.

"Aaron, watch your words," Edmund intervened. "You've had a shock. You need time to process."

Being the unreasonable one was new to him. He took a breath and faced Nathaniel. "I don't know how my wife came to be in your company, but I suggest you go home and take care of your own."

Nathaniel gritted his teeth, showing his temper was close to the surface.

"Might I remind both of you we are at a bloody ball," Edmund said, then turned to Aaron. "You surprise me. Usually, it is you who shows a cool head and reasons with us."

"Stay out of this, Edmund."

"Sorry, brother. Not happening. Not while there's a lovely young woman caught between the two of you."

"Bollocks." Aaron glared at Nathaniel. "Rebekah is mine."

"Need I remind you she came to me?"

"She came to Greystoke Manor only because she thought I was the Earl of Greystoke."

"And what did you do? You deposited your wife at Surrey, then came to London for the season, living as a bachelor."

Aaron took stock of their situation. He and his brothers were the center of attention. He placed a huge grin on his face and spoke to Nathaniel in a voice low enough the damn gossip hungry matrons wouldn't hear. "Don't tell me how to live my life, Nathaniel. Rebekah didn't want this marriage any more than I did. You know nothing of how I've been spending my time in London."

"There is no excuse to desert Rebekah and act like she doesn't exist!" Then Nathaniel gave him the look he'd given when they were youths, and Aaron knew his brother would not back down.

Aaron had always looked up to his eldest brother. Wanted to be just like him. But Nathaniel sticking his nose in Aaron's so-called marriage—no matter the ludicrous state—was crossing a line he had no business crossing.

"You may be the oldest, Nathaniel, but I remember how you flouted father's teachings. You not only disobeyed, but you challenged him. I am a grown man. You are not my father. As a matter of fact, you disappeared—"

"Shut up, Aaron," Edmund said. "Our father was a tyrant, but the one thing he instilled in each of us was decorum, and how to behave while in public." He grinned, and continued, "You wouldn't want to upset Aunt this evening, would you?"

Aaron steamed. He glanced over to where Aunt and Rebekah sat with the other matriarchs. "Some bloody brother you are. I see you stand with Nathaniel."

"I'm not taking sides. But I'll not have you embarrass Aunt by creating a scene. Aunt is the one who brought Rebekah here. She had Nathaniel escort them. If you don't like the situation, then do something about it."

Aaron thought about his decision for two seconds, then spoke, "I shall do exactly that." He spun on his heel and made a bee line for Rebekah, leaving his brothers to follow or stand there as they liked.

"Good evening, Aunt."

"You rascal. What are you and your brothers arguing about?" Aunt might sound in a temper, but she masked her true feelings by her guarded expression

"How observant, Aunt. Actually, we were discussing the ball."

"Of course, you were."

He may have been her favorite, but Penelope would take him to task if need be. "Aunt, I hope you will forgive me, but I have not seen my wife in quite a while."

"Whose fault is that?" she mumbled.

Crafty old woman .

"There are things we need to discuss." He kept his gaze on Rebekah as he talked to his aunt. She flinched at the mention of her name.

Again, he was taken with her beauty. She was more lovely than he could have imagined. The gown of lilac complimented her creamy skin and her light hair. Her eyes met his and quickly darted away. Not as confident as the woman spouting bangers at him on the dance floor. He squinted his eyes, studying her. She was nervous. Or frightened.

Of him?

Bloody hell.

"Rebekah, I apologize. I did not mean for my grip to be so strong." He managed a grin. "I'm not as bad as all that, am I?"

When her eyes met his, they were filled with confusion. At least it wasn't fear. He never wanted her—or any woman—to fear him.

"If I promise to be on my best behavior, would you leave with me?"

"We only just arrived, Aaron," Aunt scolded. "You will allow her a chance to experience her first ball."

"You lay me low pointing out my thoughtlessness, Aunt. I digress. Rebekah, I shall do whatever is in my power to see you take pleasure in this evening's festivities."

Aunt gave a nod of agreement. Rebekah looked as if she'd been poleaxed. And his damned brothers stood there, ready to pounce if he stepped out of line.