Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

L ucian forced himself to count to ten. Slowly. But anger surged through his veins. It was not lost on him that he was never angry unless his wife was involved. In fact, he couldn’t remember being angry a day in India.

But the moment he’d seen Pembroke proposing to Gemma, it was as if a red veil had descended over his eyes. He’d stalked outside and tossed that fool into the gardens. How dare Pembroke take such a liberty? And someone had said Pembroke and Gemma were thick as thieves. Did that mean she’d taken him as a lover?

If Lucian found out that was true, Pembroke’s life wouldn’t be worth a farthing.

One thing was clear. The chaps at the club were right. Gemma had become a beauty in the last fifteen months. An extraordinary one. The moment he’d seen her in the light from the candles scattered across the verandah, he’d sucked in his breath.

Where she had once been tall and awkward, she was now graceful and poised. Where she had been flat-chested, she was now generously curved. Her hair, which had once been a short mass of wayward curls, was now long and luxuriant. It was swept up behind her head, but he could tell how much longer it had grown. The curls had been tamed into a sophisticated chignon. She’d grown into her features, and her eyes were now luminous in a face of such ethereal beauty it hardly seemed real. High, sharp cheekbones, delicate dark brows, sooty lashes that framed eyes so dark they looked exotic. She had the face of an angel. The body of a siren.

And the temperament of a demon.

She was wearing a satin turquoise gown with an empire waist. The color was splendid with her dark hair. Lucian understood why all the gentlemen at the club had been so ready to tell him about her. He’d left a duckling and returned to a swan.

She might be beautiful and popular, but Lucian had no intention of allowing his wife to run about town accepting proposals and taking lovers. Quite the opposite, actually. She was his . He would not allow her to cuckold him or make a mockery of his family's name. The sooner she realized that, the better.

He’d wanted to get Gemma alone to discuss that and everything else he’d heard about her at the club. He intended to provide her with a set of rules. And if she failed to follow the rules, he would send her to Cumberland. He would make that clear. She should not try him.

Only before he’d even had a chance to speak to her, she’d immediately defied him. Which meant she hadn’t changed from the headstrong chit he’d left all those months ago. Unfortunate, but still an obstacle he was ready to surmount.

She’d given him a blank look at first, then a tight smile. She was angry as well. She’d mentioned that he hadn’t written her in all these months. What precisely did she think he had to say to her? But even as he had the thought, he could admit that it stood to some reason that she was angry.

She’d stalked away from him, refusing to go home in order to get a bit of her own back after having been ignored for so long. Fine. Even Mrs. Howard had implied that had been poorly done of him. He would acknowledge that he may not have handled his communication with his wife in the best manner, but that was all he’d acknowledge. Gemma’s refusal to leave with him had been maddening. But she couldn’t ignore him for long. They’d be back home together soon enough. And when they left here tonight, he would make everything clear. Over the last year, she may have had carte blanche to act however she liked, but he was back in town, and her inappropriate behavior was about to be severely curtailed.

Lucian straightened his shoulders and smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. The entire ballroom had no doubt just witnessed his duchess leave him outside. Perhaps some of them—the females—thought she was in the right. But he had no intention of allowing the ballroom to think there was a problem in their marriage. She might not agree to go home with him yet. But by God, she would dance with him.

He turned on a heel and stalked back toward the ballroom.