The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

“And she believed you?”

“Probably not. but I know she wants to help, and finding the journals might be a help. So it worked out.”

“Once again proving women are smarter than men. She and I would have all but come to blows before I would have been able to boost her out of town. My congratulations.” He lifted the curtain and peered through the window. “Good. We’ve just turned in to the Square. Sally Jersey’s a good friend, so don’t be intimidated when she looks you up and down as if you’re a race horse she’s considering purchasing. Just remember you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. Any room.”

“I’m not nervous. I’ve been looked up and down before, Gideon, and in surroundings far less civilized than a London mansion,” she told him. “Besides, I’m with you, so there’s nobody who would dare say or do anything to upset me. Because, as I recall the comment, you Redgraves spit bigger than most people.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I should have our crest reworked to include that somehow, shouldn’t I? Would it sound better in Latin, do you think?”

“Probably not even in Greek. Now, tell me again about Lord Charles and Mr. Urban. You can recognize them both on sight?”

“Yes, although I can’t say we’re friends. Urban is also a member of the Four-in-Hand Club, although I rarely ride with them anymore. Lord Charles is on his second wife, the first having died a few years ago. A fall down the stairs, or from a cliff that gave way while she was out walking, something like that.” He heard what he’d just said and looked quizzically at Jessica. “You don’t suppose…”

Jessica wrapped her shawl more tightly about her. “It’s easy to become fanciful, isn’t it? Is Mr. Urban married?”

“I don’t know. We can’t even be certain either one of them will be here tonight, save for the fact that nobody turns down an invitation from Sally Jersey, not if they’re at all concerned with being seen as the very crème of the ton. I’m only sorry your first evening of the Season is going to be spent playing at spy, but we have no time to waste.”

“I understand. I’d also like to get it over with as quickly as possible. There will be whispers, with my father’s death only a month behind us. Should I prepare to be cut by some of the other guests—over and above your immense consequence as Saltwood, that is?”

“My consequence has little to do with it. You simply never know what a Redgrave might dare if provoked, you understand. They’d be more afraid I’d toss somebody off a balcony or bloody their elevated noses for them. You can’t trust a Redgrave, you know. Kate proved that again just last Season. Poor society. It can’t avoid us, it can’t ignore us, and it can’t turn away from us because we fascinate them so. At least that’s what Trixie believes.”

“I imagine gaining a Special License to wed the sister of your new ward, the woman you announced as your fiancée not even two weeks ago, and then bringing her to a ball within twenty-four hours of your hasty marriage is just the sort of thing society expects from you?”

Gideon considered this for a moment, as the groom let down the steps of the town carriage. “You know, Jessica, I just may have topped myself. But no matter what, from now on it’s up to Max and Val to hold up the family’s reputation for scandal. I can’t possibly think of anything to cap the stir the two of us are going to cause in the next few minutes.”

“You don’t have to sound so pleased,” she pointed out as he helped her onto the flagway and into the light cast by the large flambeaux flanking the front door of the mansion. “Anyone would think we’re on our way to a fair. Should I be prepared to watch as you balance a ball on your nose?”

“No, but I may kiss my wife on the nose while on the dance floor, just to remind everyone that I am husband to the most beautiful, desirable woman in the room. Listen closely, and you’ll hear the gnashing of envious teeth, not because of the kiss, but because they will all know what’s going to happen once I take you home. Poor devils. I have never been accused of being a particularly nice man.”

“Or particularly modest, either, I’d imagine. What makes you believe anything at all will happen once you take me home?”

Gideon extended his arm to her, and she slipped hers around his elbow as they entered the mansion and crossed to the now empty staircase. “Two things, really. One, I’m a hopeful man by nature. And two, I am fully prepared to grovel.”

Jessica’s delightful peal of laughter had just the effect Gideon had been striving for, as everyone at the top of the stairs turned to look down at the approaching couple. What they saw, he knew, was a beautiful, flame-haired creature dressed in the first stare of fashion, her exquisitely designed ivory gown alight with spangles, the Redgrave diamonds at her throat, wrist and fingers catching every bit of light thrown by the huge chandelier above their heads—all put in the shade by the genuine, open smile of a woman totally at ease with herself and her world.

His wife. His countess. Not his penance, not his love, yet not simply his possession. Just his. And Gideon Redgrave protected what was his.

“Gideon, you monster, I thought you were going to snub me!” Sally Jersey called down from the receiving line. “Instead, you’ve brought me a present—the coup of the Season thus far, and most probably forever.”

Gideon bowed over Lady Jersey’s hand even as Jessica dropped into a graceful curtsy.

“And now you owe me a favor, Silence, my dear,” he said quietly. “I wish a waltz to immediately follow the announcement of my arrival. Now, now, don’t open your pretty mouth to tell me that’s impossible. You may not yet condone the thing at your dreary Almacks, but does society really dictate to Sally Jersey in her own home?”

“You court scandal as others crave their daily bread,” the countess whispered back, but then summoned a liveried footman, to send him scurrying off to inform the small orchestra of her demand. “Here, as I was just about to leave my post, anyway, I’ll walk between you as you enter the ballroom, to lend you my consequence, not that you need it. By the way, the dowager countess is here, titillating us all as usual, and holding court over a veritable coterie of young admirers, all rigged out in their regimental colors. She arrived on Selsby’s arm, and he’s been virtually sitting at her feet all the evening long, like some hopeful puppy. The man is barely out of leading strings when compared to Trixie, Gideon. You don’t suppose the two of them are—No, I won’t even say the words.”

“Please don’t or I might blush, and that wouldn’t do wonders for my consequence.” He stopped just at the entrance to the ballroom and lifted his quizzing glass to his eye. “You’ve got the entire world here, haven’t you, all cheek by jowl? My congratulations, not that I’m surprised. Tell me, did you deign to invite Lord Charles Mailer or the Right Honorable Archibald Urban?”

The countess looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Why? What did they do? Is it delicious? Are you going to cause a scene?”

“Not at all. Are they here?”

“I shouldn’t answer, not when you’re going to drive me wild with speculation. But, yes, they’re both here. Lord Charles and his little mouse of a bride, Archie Urban and his patently unhappy spouse. But I’ll let you find them on your own.” She turned and nodded to a servant on her right, who immediately puffed himself up and announced the arrival of the Earl of Saltwood and his lady countess in a suitably stentorian tone.

The reaction was all Gideon could have hoped for. Conversations cut off. Heads turned. He bowed over Sally’s hand and then extended his left arm to Jessica a heartbeat before the orchestra struck up the scandalous waltz.

“Take my hand.”

“Should I point out I’ve only waltzed with my dancing master, a less formal country waltz at that, and it was over five years ago, sans musical accompaniment?” Jessica asked as she put her hand in his and he drew her out onto the floor. “Something you might have considered before pulling me along after you like some tricked-out pony expected to perform.”

But she was smiling as she said it, so that Gideon’s heart, which admittedly skipped a beat at this news, calmed once more. “I’m not putting you on show, although it occurs to me now you might think so. Sally, who owes me more than a single favor, has just bestowed her stamp of approval, and we are going to, pardon my crudity, milk that teat for all it’s worth.” He took her hand in his. “Are you ready?”

Jessica stepped back, dropping into a curtsy even as she seemingly effortlessly found the silken ring of fabric on her gown and slipped her finger through it, raising the right side of her overskirt so that it would float through every dip and turn of the dance. “I’ll want to hear more about this promised groveling, my lord, I believe,” she said as his hand went to her waist, her arm lifted to his shoulder. “In detail.”

Now it was Gideon’s laughter that drew the attention of anyone who had not already noticed the stunningly handsome couple standing together on the otherwise deserted dance floor. “You’re a wicked woman, Jessica Redgrave.”

“Agreed. But first, we dance our waltz. I’m confident it’s much like riding a horse. It shouldn’t take me more than a few moments to recall the movements.”

“You do ride well,” he agreed, tongue-in-cheek as he eased her into the first turn of the waltz. “I’d have to term your movements exemplary.”

“Although doubtless capable of improvement, with repetition.” And then she winked at him. His mind flashed a quick, taunting image of her above him, her breasts bare, her head thrown back as he gripped her hips, as their bodies melded. He very nearly trod on her toes.

Oh, good, she’s not a stickler, Kate had said. We’ve no simpering miss here, Trixie had declared.

And they’d both been correct.

Because what they had here, what Gideon had found—and he knew he could take no credit for the discovery—was the most magnificent creature in the world, a rare combination of beauty and bravery, intelligence and humor, goodness and fire.

Together, Jessica as light as any feather in his arms, they whirled about the dance floor as, two-by-two, other couples dared to join in the scandalous waltz. Their eyes remained locked on each other, their smiles hinting of things that put onlookers to the blush, breaking every rule, and wonderfully so, spending perhaps their first true moments together, their most personal moment of discovery here, in Sally Jersey’s candlelit ballroom, in the midst of all of the ton.

It was above all things amazing. And wonderful. And humbling.

His wife. His countess. And yes, quite possibly, one day soon, his love.

THEY MADE THE ROUNDS OF the ballroom for over an hour, Jessica’s head positively spinning from all the introductions, all the names and faces that seemed to swim in front of her eyes as she clung to Gideon’s arm.

There were a few whose greetings were rather strained, as if they were being polite only under duress, and more than one or two of the highest sticklers quickly found their way to the supper room in order to avoid the couple completely without being forced to give them the cut direct. But that was of no matter.

Jessica had only one awkward moment, when introduced to Lord and Lady Kettering, whose estate bordered on that of her late father. They gushed over her, saying how they’d always thought she was the most splendid girl and they hadn’t believed the half of what they’d heard from her stepmother.

“You mistake the matter. You heard nothing,” Gideon had told them in that way he had about him, smooth, polite, and yet all of it wound around a rock any fool knew they did not wish to see unwrapped. The couple hastened to agree and then excused themselves.

“Bully,” Jessica told him.

“Yes, a large part of my charm, don’t you think? But a lesson here, if I might. You swiftly and firmly deal with what must be dealt with, and ignore the rest. there is nothing quite so unsettling to people who wish to upset you than for you to ignore their efforts. Of course, there are exceptions, those you can’t ignore. And there she is.”

And then, as if he’d avoided the encounter for as long as possible, Jessica found herself curtsying to the Dowager Countess of Saltwood, who looked much at her ease as she half reclined on a gilt-backed couch, her tiny slippered feel resting on the thighs of the young soldier who’d positioned himself on the floor as if his main goal in life had always been to be a living footstool. Behind her, another young swain waved an ivory stick fan to help ward off the heat of the ballroom.

The dowager countess could not be mistaken for forty, or even fifty. She was not a young woman. But the traces of a once great beauty were there, the eyes were as bright and mischievous as any Incomparable. She was petite, almost doll-like, her smile dazzling, her every gesture as graceful as a prima ballerina trodding her own special stage. Beatrix Redgrave would be beautiful to the world if she lived into her nineties. And fascinating, always and forever, fascinating.

“I adore her, you know, but if one of those young idiots produces a peeled grape for her, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep from giggling like a loon. Is she always this outrageous?”

“Sometimes it’s worse. I’m rather worried she’s celebrating something tonight, something I probably don’t want to know,” Gideon whispered back, raising his quizzing glass and skewering each young exquisite in turn, until they all found reasons to take themselves off elsewhere. “Trixie? What new delights are you selling tonight?”

“The same old delights, pet, those fuzzy-faced darlings are simply a new audience. I’ve been reciting several of the sillier bits of John Wilkes’s and Thomas Potter’s An Essay on Women, which as we know, turned poor Alexander Pope’s An Essay on Men very much on its head. ‘The gasp divine, th’emphatic, thrilling squeeze, the throbbing panting—’”

“I believe we’ve heard enough, thank you. You promised you wouldn’t again go beyond The Life and Adventures of Miss Fanny Hill. That’s education enough for those young randy goats. Why do you persist on doing this?”

Trixie shrugged her slim shoulders. “It amuses me? Or perhaps to educate? You know how tedious it is to attempt to procure a copy of either work, thanks to our prudish government. Darling, think of it. Half of those young gentlemen soon will be off to the continent if Bonaparte’s ambitions can’t be contained. When they’re cold and starving and wetting themselves with fear in their trenches, let them think back to tonight and smile, remember what they are really fighting and dying for. Or do you think it’s for green fields and white cliffs, hmm?”

Jessica bit her bottom lip and looked down at her shoe tops.

“Sally thinks you’re bedding them,” Gideon said gruffly.

“I always warned Silence is an idiot. I’m their grandmother, pet.” She shrugged again, and smiled. “Albeit their naughty grandmother. You’re much in looks tonight, Jessica. Good to know my grandson is no slow-top in the bridal chamber. I recognize the glow, you understand.”

Jessica didn’t want to say thank you, she really didn’t. But what else was there to say? “Thank you, Trixie.”

“Yes, and now down to business,” the dowager duchess said, raising a lorgnette and scanning the perimeter of the ballroom. “Ah, still there, where they were put. The obedience born of fear, I recognize that, as well. I’ve been watching them for you. Gideon, behind you and to the left are the pair of shrinking wallflowers you needs must introduce to your lady. And there’s an empty seat beside them, which is perfect. The blonde dressed in yellow—such an unfortunate choice, with her sallow coloring—is Lady Caro, Lord Charles’s bride of less than a year, and beside her sits Felicity Urban, who always looks as if she’s sucking a lemon. Their husbands put them there an hour ago and then deserted them for the card room, which is where you should be heading, pet, rather than standing there scowling at your naughty but brilliant grandmother. Now go, shoo, and let me get back to my boys. I believe we left poor Fanny lying on a couch, goggling at something quite new to her experience.”

“I should lock you up in the dower house and throw the key in the well, not to punish you, but to protect my fellow man.”

“Yes, yes, now go. Oh, but first, I believe I have some sad news to impart. It would seem Wickham’s only son cocked up his toes early this morning. Not that it wasn’t expected—that spotty liver, you’ll recall. Poor old Reggie’s all in a dither, of course, most especially at being unable to locate his grandson and now the heir to the dukedom. But I expect he’ll show up in a day or two, don’t you? Perhaps even with a lovely surprise in tow?”

“I told Jessica you might be celebrating something tonight. You’re a hard woman, Trixie,” Gideon said, shaking his head.

“Nonsense. I’ve already sent round a note of most sincere condolence to the duke and duchess. Oh, and I shall be traveling to Wickham Court for the interment, so if I don’t see you two again for space, try not to behave yourselves.”

“You’ll attend the funeral? You really want to be on hand when the duke learns about his surprise?”

“How could I not? I’ve already paid for the pleasure.”

“And now, so will the duke pay for his long-ago attack on the Redgraves. I suppose some might call it justice,” Gideon said as he bowed over Trixie’s hand once more and then offered his arm to Jessica. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Jessica agreed, doing her best to pretend she hadn’t seen the two women even as she and Gideon made a dead set toward them. “May I ask what all that was about? Someone died?”

“Yes, someone certainly did, and Trixie is totally innocent of that death, I’m happy to say. The next one? That one, at least indirectly, will be her kill.”

Jessica looked back over her shoulder to see the flock of regimental birds had come back to roost, gathering around the dowager duchess once more, to Trixie’s laughing delight. “You’ll tell me about this someday?”

“Someday. But for now, I’m putting you to work. I promise to return within the quarter hour.” He drew her forward and bowed to the pair of lonely-looking ladies, introducing his bride and begging they welcome her whilst he adjourned to the card room to search out a few friends.

The ladies smiled and agreed, informed him that their own husbands had already adjourned to the same place, and Jessica sat down beside Felicity Urban, the older of the two by at least ten years.

A quarter hour wasn’t much time, not if she had to deal with the usual inane pleasantries and comments on the sad crush of people, the heat of the ballroom. She decided to go straight for the jugular.

“It’s vastly kind of you ladies to allow me to join you. I know so few people in town, but my husband swears to me I’m not allowed in the card room. I’m also forbidden to dance once the orchestra returns, as he’s quite the jealous bridegroom. He can take umbrage if any other man so much as looks in my general direction, for goodness’ sakes—Oh, should I have said that? Really, it’s rather flattering, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want you ladies to believe him oppressively possessive.”

“Better than the alternative,” Felicity Urban said, a trace of bitterness—more than a trace, really—in her tone. “So you are newly married, my lady.”

Mrs. Urban’s eyes seemed slightly unfocused, and her breath smelled of laudanum overlaid with some sort of pungent spice. Jessica felt a pang of pity for the woman.

“Very newly, yes. It’s all been such a mad rush. His lordship went so far as to secure a Special License.”

Lady Caro leaned forward slightly, the better to see Jessica. “We watched you on the dance floor. I nearly swooned to see the look in his eyes, I will admit. He seems quite besotted.”

“That fades soon enough,” Mrs. Urban declared. “Enjoy it while you might, my lady.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Lady Caro agreed, and then sighed.

Jessica summoned a smile. Lady Jersey had been quite correct in her assessment of the two women. Lady Caro, the new bride, was definitely a little mouse, and Mrs. Urban couldn’t be more sour. That the two women could be friends seemed incongruous; they were as unalike as chalk and cheese. “Your husbands are friends?” she asked before she could stop herself, or at the least, find some smoother way into this leap in the conversation.

But Lady Caro didn’t seem to notice anything strange about the question. “Oh, yes. We go everywhere together.”

“Everywhere,” Mrs. Urban repeated dully. “To balls, to the theater, to country parties. Everywhere. Delightful times.”

Lady Caro flinched visibly, almost as if she’d been slapped. “Do…do you enjoy the theater, my lady?”

“The earl tells me we have a box, but I’ve not attended a performance as yet, I’m sorry to say. My life, as I’ve said, has been a whirlwind of late. If you are soon to remove to the country, I do envy you. I’m sure country parties are much more relaxing.”

Lady Caro’s smile was weak and rather trembling. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Really, this was hard going. “Do you agree, Mrs. Urban?”

Felicity Urban appeared to be attempting to raise her eyebrows but couldn’t seem to manage the act. “Do I agree with what, my lady?”

“Um…that country parties are relaxing.”

The woman turned hard brown eyes on Jessica, as if something inside her just woke up and took notice. When she next spoke, her words couldn’t be more affable. “Oh, yes, I very much agree. In fact, my husband and I are even now planning a small get-together at our estate near Isleworth, quite a pleasant day’s journey from London, I assure you. Please do give it your consideration. It would be a lovely break from the hustle and bustle of the Season.”

“Felicity,” Lady Caro whispered hastily, “do you think…?”

Mrs. Urban’s voice had knives in it. “Yes, I do. You should attempt the exercise.”

“I will, of course, be delighted to forward your kind invitation to his lordship, Mrs. Urban,” Jessica said quickly, pretending not to notice the new tension between the women. “How exceedingly kind of you. Other than my husband, I have no real acquaintance, I’m afraid, having lived out of the country for several years.”

“Ladies, your servant.”

At the sound of the man’s voice, Jessica saw Lady Caro reach out her hand to clutch at that of Felicity Urban, as if seeking protection.

“My lord,” Mrs. Urban said, her previously strong voice quavering slightly. “How condescending of you to notice us languishing here amidst the potted palms. You know Lady Caro, of course, but please allow me to introduce you to our new acquaintance, the Countess of Saltwood. My lady, may I present Simon Ravenbill, Marquis of Singleton.”

Disappointed by the interruption, Jessica summoned a smile and raised her head to see a magnificently constructed man, surely as tall as Gideon, but light to her husband’s dark. His eyes, startlingly blue, his longish hair nearly guinea gold. “My lord, it is an honor,” she said, quickly lowering her eyes once more even as she offered her hand, prudently recalling Gideon’s warning not to attempt to bluff anyone. Because her mind had heard Ravenbill and immediately thought Bird, one of the names listed in her father’s journal.

But dear and merciful God, that had only been the half of it!

“The honor is completely mine, my lady, I assure you. I arrived only a few moments ago and have been punished ever since for my tardiness, as the ballroom is abuzz at the news Saltwood has taken a wife. My further punishment is that he saw you first, or else I would have stolen a march on him, most definitely.”

Jessica smiled, as she knew she ought, even as she worried her heart might leap out of her chest. “I don’t think my husband would have allowed that, my lord. He’s quite the determined man.”

“Yes, we all know the stories of the infamous Redgraves. Such a fortunate thing that dueling has been outlawed. Not that Redgraves concerned themselves overmuch with the rules of the thing.”