Royal Regard by Mariana Gabrielle Page B

instinctive
whimpers and, satisfied he had made his point, he turned the
conversation. “What has Huntleigh done to upset you? A
disagreement?”
    She spoke without thinking: “In the carriage.
He said—” She stopped short. “No, it is disloyal to speak of my
marital concerns with anyone but my husband.”
    “Come now, you have been dying to have it out
all night. What did he say?”
    She huffed, “How do you know we had
words?”
    “The argument is all over your face, darling.
And anyone with eyes can see he neglects you.”
    “He is not neglectful, just not roman—” Her
eyes dropped, but then her chin raised and she set her jaw. “Lord
Huntleigh is a good husband and the very kindest of men. I will not
have you disparage him.”
    “I would never think of it. I just wonder how
a man who is ‘not romantic’ manages to keep the interest of such a
vivacious young lady. I mean, at home he can’t just fob you off on
the nearest man in dancing pumps. As you are so quick to defend, he
must have hidden charms only on view in your sitting room.”
    Her giggle went past the point of politesse,
bordering on an outright snort. However, she followed the minor
calumny with, “Myron—Lord Huntleigh—and I spend more time in
intellectual conversation than any two people I’ve ever known. We
play backgammon and discuss politics and business, and he
appreciates my intellect.”
    “As I say, you are being neglected.” He ran
his thumb across her wrist, and she almost choked. “You beautiful
girl, poorly romanced by Humdrum Huntleigh in your very own drawing
room.” His voice lost volume and an octave. “Bedroom, too, I wager.
The worst sort of crime.”
    She tried for dispassion, but her voice
cracked. “I suppose being romanced by you in a ballroom is
better?”
    His smile was predatory. “How lovely of you
to say.”
    “I made no such—” She harrumphed, “You will
turn around every word, I assume?”
    “In recompense, if one appreciates a turn of
phrase, I do write truly passionate love poetry.” She shook her
head, loosening, but not losing, the unfocused gleam in her eye. He
hoped quite sincerely she was envisioning him in a state of
passion. Better yet, herself. In seconds, her jaw clenched and
brows turned down.
    “That is almost a good-quality judgmental
look,” he teased. “It will convince at least a few people you spurn
my advances, although not quite as forceful as it might be if you
were not so curious. Perhaps if you turn your brows down just a bit
more… there! That’s it.” He leaned over and said, almost silently,
“Although, if you purse your pretty lips like that much longer, I
shall be forced to kiss you, and all of our subterfuge will be for
naught.”
    Her mouth dropped open, astonished at the
unabashed advance. “Your audacity knows no bounds!”
    “No, none. Any man with a wife will tell you
so.”
    She couldn’t help laughing, but looked around
to make certain no one was listening, and he could see her
concerted effort to blank her expression.
    “You have a very bad face for cards, my
darling. Clearly, we must speak of nothing but the weather until
the dance is over, or you will give away our lascivious intentions
with your charming giggles. Your husband must believe you find me
the most tedious man imaginable.”
    She tossed her head and lied, “That will
present no difficulty at all.” A few more strands of hair fell to
her shoulders, drawing his attention. How he wished he could pull
out the pins and run his hands through it.
    “No?” he asked, one corner of his lips turned
up.
    “I find you deadly dull.”
    His voice took on a rasp as he remarked, “You
would find me much less so had you taken me to the gallery.”
    “The gallery?! As if I would—you are
indecent!” She almost pulled away but must have thought better of
the scene she would create, instead merely stepping back, clearing
her throat and calming her voice, if not her tone. “I can only
think you