Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(48)

She steadied her breathing. To call a sudden halt to the proceedings would be even more embarrassing than to continue with them. If there were any left in the room that were not talking about her, they soon would be, once she drove them from her house and slammed the doors.

She would retire herself, then. It was embarrassing for a hostess to abandon her guests. But she found herself—suddenly indisposed. Too ill to continue, no doubt due to the stress of the event. People would understand. Some would know the cause of the indisposition, but not all. She might still save some small portion of pride.

She had but to find her husband, and tell him that it behoved him, as host, to rise from the card table, and attend to his guests, for she could not hold up another instant.

She exited the hall and was almost in the card room before she knew what she was about. The sound of male laughter echoed into the hallway.

It would be embarrassing to invade the privacy of the men, but it could not be helped. It was her house, after all. Even if she might need to continually remind herself of the fact.

She paused in front of the partially open door, standing behind it, and taking in a deep breath, scented with the tobacco smoke escaping from the room. And without intending to, she heard the conversation, escaping from the room as well.

‘Of course, now that Adam is an old married man, he will not be interested in cards or horses. I dare say your new bride does not approve of your track losses, Bellston.’

There was general laughter.

‘She has not yet had the chance to approve or disapprove of them, Mark. We have been married a short time, and even I cannot lose money so fast as that, despite my dashed bad luck. When one is throwing one’s money away, it takes time to pick a horse that can do the job properly.’

‘You took little enough care in the finding of a wife, Adam.’

So she was no different than choosing a jade. Anger mingled with shame at the hearing of it.

‘Indeed. You were alone when you left London. Wherever did you find her?’ It was her husband’s friend, John.

‘She found me, more like. I was not even looking.’ Her husband’s voice.

She drew back from the door. Her father had often told her that people who listened at keyholes deserved what they heard. She should retreat immediately if she did not want Clarissa’s stories confirmed.

‘She must have a fat purse, then, for you to marry so quickly.’

She could feel her cheeks reddening. One, two, three…

‘Her father was a cit?’ Another voice, edged with curiosity.

Four, five, six.

‘In printing, I believe,’ her husband answered. ‘Books and such. My wife is a great reader. Probably through his influence.’

Someone laughed. ‘What does a woman need with reading?’

Idiot. Her fists balled.

‘I wouldn’t know, myself. But she seems to value it.’ There was the faintest trace of sarcasm in her husband’s voice. And she relaxed her fists. ‘I imagine it proves useful, if one does not wish to appear as foolish as you.’

‘But it must take her time away from other, more important things,’ John responded. ‘Her appearance, for example. She is a bit of a quiz.’

Her husband, and his damned friends, sniping and backbiting, as she had seen them on the first day. She would not cry, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman, in her own house, and she would suffer these fools no longer, but go into the room and remind her husband who had paid for the party.

And then she noticed the silence emanating from the room. John’s comment had been followed by a mutter of assent, and some nervous laughter, that had faded quickly to nothing.

Her husband spoke. ‘I find her appearance to be singular. Her eyes, especially, are most compelling. Not to everyone’s taste, perhaps, but very much to mine. You might wish to remember that, in future, if you wish to visit my home.’ The warning in his voice was clear, and she imagined him the way he had been when he stood up to her brother. Quiet, but quite frightening.

Her jaw dropped.

There was more muttering in the room, and a hurried apology from John.

Her husband spoke again. ‘If any are curious on the matter of how I came to be married so quickly after my recent financial misfortunes, and to one so wealthy as my wife, let me clarify the situation, that you may explain it to them. It was a chance meeting of kindred souls. The decision on both our parts was very sudden, and on my part, it had very little to do with the size of her inheritance. I consider myself most fortunate to have found so intelligent and understanding a woman, and must regret that circumstances imply an ulterior motive. Would anyone else care to comment on it?’

There were hurried denials from his friends.

‘I thought not. Furthermore, I do not expect to hear more on the subject of my wife’s family. Her brother is in trade, and our backgrounds are most different. But I wished the woman I married to be worthy of the title, and with sufficient character to bring pride to my name. I am more than happy with my choice. Would that you are all as lucky as I have been.’

Nervous silence followed, and someone cleared his throat.

Then, when tension had reached a near-unbearable point, she heard the sound of shuffling cards, and her husband drawled, ‘Another hand, gentleman?’

She could feel the tension release, as the men rushed to offer assent.

She leaned her back to the wall, and let the plaster support her as the room began to spin. The Duke of Bellston found her ‘singular’. Whatever did that mean? If another had said it, she’d have thought it was faint praise, and that the speaker had been too kind to say ‘odd’.