The Wedding Game(50)

Ben saw her raised eyebrow at the nearness to his bedroom. ‘I thought it best that she be given the same room she will inhabit when she comes here after the wedding. I do not want it to seem strange when we...’ He faltered as if unwilling to think the next words much less speak them aloud.

When you share a bed.

She did not want to think about it either. The time was growing near when she would have to explain it all to Belle. And just the thought of that conversation made tears trickle down the back of her throat.

Without another word, Ben removed another key from a ring in his pocket and handed both to her. ‘In case you are concerned about the connection to the master suite, here is the only key to it.’

She responded with a solemn nod. ‘Thank you, for your thoughtfulness.’ She slipped the keys into her pocket. As she felt the weight of them dragging at her skirts, she could not help wondering if either of them opened the door to his room as well.





Chapter Seventeen

The evening was as perfect as he’d promised it would be. Despite the fact that there was no lady of the house to see to the menu and the decorations, the ballroom was charmingly arranged and the supper delicious. He had hired musicians from London who performed in all of the best households.

The guest list included half a dozen couples along with John, Templeton and the Summoners. It was almost too intimate to be called a ball. But for Belle’s first visit to his home, it would be better to start small.

He had done well.

And beside him, staring at the room in wonder, was his reward. Arabella Summoner wore a gown the colour of a maiden’s blush. The sheer muslin was bound by gold cords that crossed between her breasts. A matching gold cord wound through her fair hair. She was a goddess come to earth, so beautiful it hurt to look at her.

Her sister was a much more cerebral deity, an Athena to her sister’s Aphrodite. She’d dressed in warm brown silk, a colour that hardly seemed festive enough for such an occasion. But when she turned to look at him, he saw that it matched her eyes. The gold of the locket at her throat echoed the light shining in them. Tonight, there were no plumes or braids to spoil the long, tawny hair and no fan to hide her lovely face. He could stare into that face for ever.

He did not dare to. He dragged his eyes away from her and turned to smile at Belle. ‘Is it to your liking?’ He waited, breath held, for her answer.

After what seemed like weeks of trying and failing to catch Arabella Summoner, now that he had her, he approached her warily. It was as if she was an untamed cat and he expected to be scratched. It was nonsense. There was not a tamer creature in the room than the woman he was about to marry.

But cats sometimes scratched because of fear. That was what he sensed from her now. At his words, her beautiful head dipped and, though her eyes darted nervously about the room, her smile was as bright as ever. But it was ruined now that he knew how little there was behind the artifice. ‘The ball,’ he prompted. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, automatically.

‘We will be expected to dance the first waltz,’ he said, offering her his arm.

Her head tipped to the side.

‘You have not waltzed?’ Of course she hadn’t. She was young and it was still too improper for the likes of Almack’s. He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I will teach you. It is a very simple dance.’

‘I like to dance,’ she said. He had begun to think it was as much a ruse to hide a lack of conversation as a statement of truth. But at least she was not as blunt as she had been that afternoon. Perhaps she was growing accustomed to him.

‘So your sister says.’

Belle gave him another worried look. ‘She says I must obey you in all things.’

‘That is the way marriages usually work,’ he said, surprised that he would have to explain it. ‘If Amy marries, she will obey her husband, just as you should.’

‘She will not like that,’ Belle said. ‘Amy likes to give orders, but she does not take them well.’

He could not help himself. He laughed. ‘You are wiser than they give you credit for, Arabella.’

‘Thank you,’ she said automatically.

‘And you must try not to worry too much about our future together.’ He would do all the worrying for both of them, just as Amy had done. ‘For now, all I require of you is a dance.’ He took her hand to lead her to the centre of the room. ‘Here. Let me show you how to waltz.’ He lifted her hand in his and put his other hand on her waist.

She stared down at it as if trying to decide whether this was an actual dance, or a trick to make her behave improperly.

‘Now you put your hand on my shoulder.’

Her touch was tentative as she rested it there, but at least they were positioned correctly.

‘Watch my feet. Step, step, step. Step, two, three. Do as I do. But with the other foot. My right, your left.’

They managed a few tentative steps in harmony with each other and he gave her another smile. ‘Very good.’

She smiled back at him with a relieved sigh, then tried to detach her hand from his.

He shook his head. ‘Now we will dance around the floor in a circle.’ He nodded to the musicians, and they struck up the first notes of the Sussex Waltz. When she did not immediately follow his lead, he set them off with a rocking first step that would have been more appropriate in a polonaise than a waltz.