When Marrying a Scoundrel (8 page)

“Yes,” she returned, in a low throaty tone. “I believe it will be. I’ll meet you there.”

And then she was gone, leaving his arm bereft of warmth and the rest of him oddly relieved. The reason for this conflict he could only assume was the shock of seeing his wife. She had been the love of his young life. Christ, he’d given up everything for her. Been disowned, disinherited and still he couldn’t fathom life without her. It made him angry—childishly so—that he should be the one to give up everything for her and she couldn’t even give up tea leaves for him.

Lady Gosling offered him pleasure and company, the warmth of woman. And he did not doubt that Sadie would be there tonight, that had to be why La Rieux suggested he come. He wanted Sadie to see that he was not yearning for her. Should he remain celibate during his stay in London just because his past had come back to bite him on the arse?

He would do well to remember that he did not have a wife. No doubt Sadie would be all too happy to remind him of that if he forgot.

Sadie dressed for her outing with Mason unable to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago Jack Friday—presently a huge thorn in her side—had been little more than an unpleasant memory that sometimes tugged at her brain.

Why now? She wondered as Petra laced her into a pale pink silk corset. Why did he have to come back into her life now? Or at all?

And why did he have to look so bloody fine? She studied herself in the full-length mirror a few feet away.
He’d told her she looked good, but was that because of the years or despite them? Time wasn’t kind as often to women as to men. Little lines around feminine eyes were unwanted, while on men they were considered a mark of good character. Why was that? So far she was fortunate not to have accrued any such lines, but Jack had them. He had them and he looked good with them.

He looked good with that smattering of freckles across the bridge of his perfect nose as well. He’d always burned and freckled if he spent too much time in the sun—and now look at him, so tanned. It would be scandalous for a woman to wear such a countenance.

No, it wasn’t fair that he could treat her so shoddily and come back looking so good. He should have a humped back, or at least a wart or two—something more immediately noticeable than the black smudge on his soul.

A fraud. He had called her a fraud. Worse than that, he believed it. All the years he had known her and he didn’t believe in her, in what she could do. But she had realized this a long time ago, so it shouldn’t hurt so much to hear it now. It wasn’t his fault he had no magic in his soul—his grandfather would have beaten that out of him at a very young age. Man made his own way in the world. Only death was fated.

Jack didn’t want to believe that some things were beyond his control. So when she misinterpreted the odd image in the early days, he saw that as proof that she didn’t have the gift. And when people lied rather than admitted what was truly in their heart, he believed that as
well. It was easier for him than accepting that she could see beyond what the eye could understand.

Once, she’d convinced him to let her read his leaves. She couldn’t remember most of what she’d said, it had been so long ago, but she remembered seeing a huge distance between them—a separation. She’d felt that there would be a reunion, but of course that hadn’t happened.

Until now.

The thought gave her a little shiver. “Almost done, missus,” her maid said, mistaking the shiver for cold.

Sadie assured the girl she was fine, grateful for the distraction of her thoughts. There was no possible way she and Jack were going to reunite. Not after all that had happened. Although, she knew that not all reunions were meant to be pleasant. The day he left her she’d been certain the next time they saw each other would be among the happiest moments of her life. It wasn’t often that she was so very, very wrong.

Petra finished lacing her up and moved to collect the astonishing gown Sadie intended to wear that evening. It wasn’t the style or cut of the garment that was so eye catching, for it was a very simple evening gown with little fuss or flounce. What made it so fantastic was that the silk had been dyed a rich, deep magenta, which Sadie just happened to look very fetching in.

Petra slipped the delicate material over her head. Sadie sighed as it whispered over her skin. She did so adore silk—almost as much as she adored Avery Forrest, her dressmaker. The woman rivaled Worth in sheer talent, and it wouldn’t be long before she rivaled him in cost as well,
but for now she was foolishly kind—and affordable—to her friends, for which Sadie was eternally grateful.

“If you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, you have to be a brave woman to wear a gown this color.”

Sadie smiled at Petra, who rarely wore anything more daring than pastels. “It’s about making a statement.”

“Aye. Loud and clear.”

Chuckling, and in no way offended, Sadie smoothed her hands over the silk skirts. Small cap sleeves cupped her shoulders as the unadorned neckline fell into place. With each button Petra fastened, the bodice became snugger, hugging her torso, the vivid hue making the exposed tops of her breasts seem pale as snow. It was gathered in the back to give the illusion of the slight bustle that was the fashion these days. No big poofy bottoms anymore.

She wore no jewelry save for a pair of pearl drops at her ears and the enameled gold comb that secured the knot of hair at her crown. Ivory gloves and matching silk shawl completed the ensemble.

She’s always liked bright colors. Her mother had accused her of being a peacock on more than one occasion, but always with a smile. For a wedding gift Jack had given her a pair of satin gloves dyed the exact blue of said bird. They’d been totally impractical given their circumstances, but she loved them all the same. She still had them. Somewhere.

“I have to admit,” Petra commented, standing back to assess her handiwork, “you look stunning. Bright, but stunning.”

Sadie grinned. “Thank you.” Then she heard the door
knocker. She glanced at the clock. “Right on time.”

Gathering up her reticule, Sadie left her room and walked leisurely down the stairs to join her escort in the drawing room. Dressed in black, he stood near the red velvet chaise, hands behind his back as he studied a painting of poppies on the wall above.

“Looking for flaws?” she asked.

He turned with a raised brow and lopsided grin. “Am I that critical?”

“Usually.”

“Well, you look beautiful.”

Sadie’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you. And the poppies?”

He shrugged. “Passable.”

Mason Blayne was the kind of man who drew attention and held it. He was tall and lean with black hair and eyes that ranged from chocolate to pitch depending on the day. His complexion was fair with a slight olive cast that hinted at exotic ancestors, and he had a true artist’s temperament—sometimes flying into a fiery rant if a paint wasn’t the exact shade he wanted. He had the enviable ability to laugh at himself, however—a trait that Sadie deeply admired.

In addition to being handsome and brilliant, Mason was also incredibly easy to spend time with, and he had introduced Sadie to a world vastly different than the one she’d become accustomed to. With him she’d made the acquaintance of actresses and writers, musicians and other talented people who had such wonderful ideas and stories. People who didn’t judge her because her father
hadn’t money or a title, and who thought her ability to read tea leaves was a divine gift from whatever god they worshiped.

Nathan Xavier, the magician they were going to see tonight, was one of those friends. Sadie was very much looking forward to the show, as Xavier could make an audience doubt their very eyes—their very beliefs. Lord knew, she needed a distraction.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

Mason shook his head, the light from the wall lamps casting a bluish tint to his glossy hair. “No, thank you. A glass of scotch and your company will make me so comfortable I won’t want to leave, and I promised Xavier we’d be there.”

He had a knack for knowing exactly how to flatter her without piling it on too heavily. She never thought for a moment that he wasn’t sincere, though Vienne would argue that all men were sincere until they got what they wanted from a woman.

“Shall we go, then?” Sadie held out her hand to him. “We can always have a glass of wine there.”

Mason’s dark eyes twinkled as he came forward to wrap his gloved fingers around hers. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric separating them. “Nothing I like better than free wine.”

Outside, the moon was a silver eye, peering between indigo clouds. Mason stopped for a second to stare at it. No doubt committing every shade and highlight to memory for use on a future canvas.

They took his carriage—a small but comfortable ve
hicle that still had a new smell to the interior. His work was garnering more and more interest as of late; he could now afford luxuries denied him for most of his life.

“Will Ava be joining us tonight?” Sadie asked sometime later.

Mason’s face was mostly shadows, but a finger of light revealed the tightening of his wide mouth. “If Autley deigns to bring her.”

It was no secret that Mason disapproved of his sister being the duke’s mistress—not because he held on to the archaic notion that an unmarried woman must remain chaste while men could sleep with whomever they wanted, but because he held no high opinion of Westhaver Blackbourne, Duke of Autley. The duke had first noticed Ava when she became somewhat famous as a Professional Beauty. Photographs and paintings of her were guaranteed high sales and several photographers and artists wanted her to pose exclusively for them.

Sadie had no desire to press a sore subject. “I wonder if the prince will be there with Mrs. Langtry?”

“Doubtful, though, Lillie might well be in attendance. She likes a good show as much as the rest of us.”

She’d forgotten that Mason knew the famous Lillie Langtry. He’d painted a portrait of her shortly before Sir Allen Young’s dinner party where she allegedly caught the eye of Albert Edward—“Bertie”—the Prince of Wales. Bets were being placed in all the clubs as to when the lady would become the official royal mistress.

“Did you have an affair with her?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Black eyes shot to hers. “Would you be jealous if I said yes?”

“I think I would.” Oddly enough she had no trouble admitting this. Was that so wrong of her? She hadn’t told Mason that her “husband” was back in town, yet here she was demanding to know about a lover he might have had before he began showing any interest in her.

“I do love a jealous woman, but your concern is misplaced. I never shared a bed or any other item of furniture with the delightful Mrs. Langtry.”

She smiled a little, despite her shame. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Silence fell between them, and not the comfortable kind. The kind that was fraught with tension. Should she kiss him? Would he kiss her? If he was going to sit there in the gloom and smile so smugly, shouldn’t he at least have the decency to try to ravish her?

“You met with your new landlord today,” he said, ruining all hopes of ravishment. “How did that go?”

“Not well,” she replied honestly. “Mr. Friday thinks I’m a fraud.” The minute the words were out, she longed to yank them back. She did not want to discuss Jack with Mason, but she couldn’t very well lie and say all was well, could she? If Jack succeeded in keeping her from her shop, Mason would know something was wrong when she had to look for another property.

“Did you tell him you don’t give a rat’s arse what he thinks of you?”

“Not really, no. He doesn’t want to rent to me. I think
he’s going to try to get out of the agreement.”

“If he does then he’s obviously stupid. You don’t want to do business with a fool.”

Words leapt to her lips—a defense of Jack. Sadie wanted to insist that he wasn’t stupid, just angry. Vindictive even, but never stupid. But she stopped herself just in time. She would have to explain to Mason why she defended a man she wasn’t supposed to know, and she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t. He knew she’d been married once, but he thought her husband dead. It was a lie Sadie almost had herself believing until Jack’s appearance.

She asked about Mason’s new painting instead, and they talked about it and other topics for the remainder of the drive. There was no more thought of kissing. And she promised herself there would be no more thoughts of Jack either. She wouldn’t let him ruin this evening or any other spent with Mason.

Shortly, they arrived at Saint’s Row, and Mason’s carriage was one of many lined up outside the club to deliver attendees to the night’s performance. A mix of aristocrats and upper-class ladies and gentlemen climbed the steps alongside those new to fortune and well-known personages such as politicians, artists, writers, and musicians. It was an amazing mixing of the social spheres and Sadie was thrilled to be part of it. She felt a surge of satisfaction on Vienne’s behalf as well. Most of the upper crust wouldn’t ever invite her to their parties or events, but they vied for the privilege of giving her their money and attending her soirees.

Inside, the cream and brown interior gleamed under
the chandeliers. The air smelled slightly of spices—warm and inviting. Voices echoed under the vaulted ceiling as some of the crowd broke into small groups, standing about to chat, while the rest drifted into the ballroom where the stage and chairs had been set up.

The lights were dimmer in there, casting shadows around the perimeter. The only bright spot was right above the raised dais where Xavier would perform. Carpet had been set down in the marble aisles to muffle the sound of footfalls. The chairs had curved backs and plush red velvet cushions that matched the stage curtains, adding to the opulence.

“Vienne certainly knows how to set a mood,” Mason commented as they found the seats at the front that had been reserved for them. “I can almost imagine a phantom watching us from the wings.”

Sadie smiled. “I’m sure if Vienne could have arranged such an apparition she would have.” She glanced around at the crowd and froze when her gaze alighted on the couple three rows back.