Wolfsgate Page 22

  Brandon brought her cold hand to his lips and kissed it, but that flash of warmth did nothing to ease the numbness in her limbs. She held her breath, and with all the effort she could muster, attempted a smile as an offer of proof of her normalcy. Her knees would give way if she had to bear his searching gaze any longer.

  “Let go of your wife, Graven,” said Matthew. “You’ll have plenty of time alone with her later.”

  Brandon frowned, but he finally released her hand. Justine smiled weakly at him as she silently thanked the gods above. She turned away and left the men to their tobacco and drink.

  “Imagine, Lord Graven married her?” Emily pronounced loudly enough to be heard. Justine’s eyes widened upon entering the drawing room.

  In such an elegant space—from the blue damask festoon curtains to the elaborate blue and pink floral carpet lining the floor, and the lavish blue material lining the walls to the matching upholstery trimmed with gold—one would expect elegant company to match. But instead Justine choked on the perfectly designed and coordinated blue spectacle of Amanda’s drawing room as soon as she set foot in it.

  She was very grateful that Charles had her drink that last glass of wine. There seemed to be no escape for her this evening.

  “Emily!” Amanda’s eyes widened at her guest, and she shook her head ever so slightly.

  Justine remained still, her eyes glued to Emily. “She’s entitled to her opinion, Amanda,” Justine said. “Just as I am entitled to mine.” Justine approached Emily, and the room held its collective breath. “And where is your husband this evening, Lady Emily?”

  In the years since they had last seen each other, Emily had grown into a tall, thin woman with a permanently pinched face. This evening she wore a bright coral dress in the very latest fashion, plenty of powder and rouge, and an ostentatious feather decoration in her hair that was worthy of conversation.

  Her father had managed to marry her off to a well-titled Lord from the north. It was common knowledge, however, that Emily’s young and attractive husband was a card-playing bon vivant who only married her for the extra pocket money and to produce an heir or two under his own father’s command. The husband spent most of his time wherever his wife was not, only making appearances at special events in London, and as few of those as possible. He thoroughly enjoyed mistress after mistress and all the hunting and fishing he could squeeze in at his country estate.

  Justine smiled. “Is he ill and indisposed yet again? You really should take better care of your husband.” A hush fell over the room. “Perhaps what he needs is a more attentive, more skilled, experienced professional to see to his needs?” Emily’s face reddened. Amanda’s eyebrows shot up. “A better doctor, I mean.”

  Amanda came between the women. “Shall we get on with our evening before the gentlemen join us? Unless you would prefer to make further fools of yourselves?”

  Justine bowed her head, then turned on her heel and moved towards the fireplace where Georgina waited for her.

  “Very impressive,” said Georgina.

  “Was it?”

  “Tell me everything, darling.” In a low tone, Justine explained to Georgina her almost engagement to Sir Wallace, and his and his daughter’s subsequent ill will.

  Georgina sighed. “I think I need more wine.”

  “You’ll have to make do with the tea being served.”

  “Is there nothing stronger?” Georgina frowned.

  “Wine would be a good start, though.” Justine laughed. Georgina winked at her as they sat together on a settee.

  Amanda sashayed before them, her neck stiff. “I hope you’ve calmed down now, Justine. Don’t you dare ruin my party.”

  “Lady Graven and I are thoroughly enjoying your party, are we not?” Georgina turned to Justine.

  “We most certainly are,” replied Justine, a smile on her face.

  Amanda cast a sidelong glance at Georgina then settled her gaze back on Justine. “Your brother will be very disappointed when he hears about this. Sir Wallace has been a treasured friend and business partner of his for several years now. If your little snip with Emily in any way interferes with that it would be most unfortunate, Justine.

  “Oh Amanda, I know all about Sir Wallace and my stepbrother. Furthermore, my stepbrother, unfortunately, has been disappointed in me from the moment we met. What difference would a little more make to the debris already on the pile?”

  Amanda’s lips pressed into a firm line. The doors burst open, and the men strode in. Amanda immediately swept off. Charles strode towards them, a grin curling his lips.

  “You missed the show, Mr. Montclare. We’re going to need a drink immediately.” Georgina’s eyes danced at him.

  “Say again?” Charles leaned in. Georgina explained, and his body shook with laughter. He turned and gestured to a servant. “Lady Justine. I see you are more than capable of holding your own. I like it.” He grinned at her. “Very, very much.”

  Justine wasn’t listening. Brandon, his features dark, marched through the room straight towards her. Her heart stammered in her chest.

  “Justine? What did Wallace say to you?”

  “Pardon?”

  Brandon’s hand cupped her elbow. “You were seated next to him at dinner, were you not? Did he say something to upset you?”

  She swallowed hard glancing at Charles. “Nothing of any significance was discussed.”

  His eyes tightened. “Justine—”

  “Brandon?” Amanda slipped her arm around his bicep. “There is something Father must show you.”

  Justine’s stomach twisted as Amanda aimed a melting smile at Brandon. The pale yellow silk she wore this evening enhanced her delicate features. A diamond pendant glittered around her throat gracing her ample bosom, matching the diamond drops hanging from her earlobes. An elegant silk turban was wrapped around her crown, long, loose ringlets of flaxen hair framing her face. Any man would be pleased to have a stunning woman like Amanda showering them with her radiance.

  “Do come, he’s waiting,” Amanda said.

  Charles handed Justine a glass of wine, and Brandon’s jaw clenched as she murmured her thanks. She smiled cooly from behind her glass as Amanda led him away. Justine watched as Brandon listened to her and her father’s discussion before an open curio cabinet. The three of them laughed over a china vase Mr. Blakelock held in his hands.

  Justine swallowed more wine. It was natural between them. Just as it always had been.

  “Some feelings don’t ever wither and die,” Andrew’s husky voice was at her ear. “Don’t you think?”

  Justine snapped her head at him and scowled. He was perched on the arm of the settee next to her. Charles and Georgina were engaged in conversation with her brother and Matthew.

  “My sister is determined, I’m afraid. She doesn’t back down. Not like I do, at any rate. I hope you’re prepared, Lady Justine. Of course, if you ever feel the need for a bit of quid pro quo, I might be available.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Mr. Andrew Blakelock?”

  Andrew threw his head back and laughed, then his faced dipped closer to hers. “It’s true and you know it, love,” he whispered, his voice tickling her ear. Justine drew a few inches away from him and averted her gaze. She caught Brandon’s sober stare from across the room.

  Andrew’s lips twitched. “Amanda usually gets what she wants, always has. You know as well as I that it’s destiny at work with those two.”

  “And what does her husband think of this destiny, I wonder?”

  He shook his head and let out a laugh. “Your stepbrother—”

  “I think you terribly underestimate William,” Justine interrupted. “You all do.”

  Andrew sighed and drank from his glass as elegant notes of music rose from the other end of the drawing room. Amanda, her back perfectly straight, sat at the spinet, her fingers darting over the instrument. Brandon was hovering nearby with Mr. Blakelock, but he still tossed glances at her and Andrew from acros
s the room. She could practically feel the heat of his glare as she took another long sip of wine.

  Justine straightened her shoulders and slid a hand down her silk dress. “I’m not sure I agree, Mr. Blakelock. We might as well all idle in our drawing rooms and wait for destiny to haul us through life if that were the case.” Justine’s brain steamed like a full kettle over a fire. “Doesn’t that notion go against the grain of free will?”

  “Ah, Lady Graven, what is free will in the face of the iron will of another?” Andrew stared at her as he drained his glass. The bitterness in his tone made her chest ache. He was right, wasn’t he? They both watched Brandon admire Amanda’s musical talents once more. Her fingers sped quickly over the keys as the spirited music she spun filled the room.

  Justine finished her wine. She was determined to enjoy herself this evening. She took her leave of Andrew with a nod of her head and walked over to a large landscape painting of a waterfall hanging in the opposite corner of the room. The painting had been much discussed over dinner. Amanda had met the artist in London.

  “Moping about?”

  Justine glanced at William, then returned her attention to the canvas. “Hardly. I was admiring your new acquisition.”

  “Amanda has quite an eye.”

  She tilted her head at her stepbrother, her lips upturned. “Indeed she does.”

  A hint of amusement glimmered in William’s eyes. “What a pleasure it was to dine with Sir Wallace this evening, don’t you think?”

  “Most memorable, stepbrother. Thank you so much for seating us together.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. It was my every intention to please you and, more importantly, to amuse myself.” He turned to face her. “I heard every delicious word he said to you,” he whispered.

  Justine kept her gaze riveted on the brushstrokes in the painting…the icy white-blue cascade of water, the textured green foliage, the treacherous angles of the jagged rocks.

  “My wife insisted on this dinner party,” William continued. “I couldn’t possibly let such an opportunity for my own entertainment slip by, now could I?”

  “I expected nothing less,” she said. “I must say, I am impressed that you have managed to keep in Sir Wallace’s good graces after all this time.”

  “He was quite a sore loser, but I eased his pain in other ways.” William drank from his glass. “Are you leaving soon?”

  Justine’s gaze slid to where Brandon was applauding Amanda’s performance. “Only if you can tear your wife away from my husband, which might be difficult as she seems resolved to mesmerize and conquer.”

  William’s eyes narrowed at the scene at the far end of his lavishly appointed drawing room. “My wife enjoys indulging in nostalgia for the past.”

  “Ah, is that what we’re calling it now?” Justine echoed his own words to her from the ball. “Nostalgia?” She let out a dry laugh. William’s eyes blazed at her.

  “Pardon, may I have a word?” Georgina slipped her hand around Justine’s arm. William grimaced and strode off. “Justine, I think you should make special plans for this evening when you return home.”

  “Plans?”

  “Yes. You should wear your finest silk chemise which I trust you own as a new bride. No, better yet, nothing at all underneath a silk dressing gown and make yourself especially available to your husband.”

  “Available?”

  “Very available. Dazzle him with your attributes and charms tonight and wipe his brain clean of our delightful hostess.” Georgina eyed her. “Come now, you’re a married woman. You two must be…”

  “G!”

  Georgina tilted her head, her eyes glowed. “Well? Haven’t you?”

  “Yes, we have. But…”

  “But what?” Georgina’s eyes widened. “Oh no! It wasn’t enjoyable with Lord Graven? Really? Because I have heard it can sometimes be enjoyable—”

  “No, it was. But—”

  “Excellent!” Georgina giggled. “But what?”

  Justine clasped Georgina’s hands, letting out a shaky laugh. “But we argued after the ball and now we aren’t…”

  “No, no, no!” Georgina leaned in closer to her friend. “Don’t let your pride drag out a simple tiff and turn it into a tangle of misunderstanding and stubbornness. I beg you, Justine. Brandon is too fine a specimen of a man to leave unattended for very long.”

  Justine blinked at Georgina. “Unattended?”

  “Yes, that’s right. You are his wife. You can and should do whatever you can to satisfy him. And do it quickly,” Georgina whispered.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Amanda has him in her thrall this evening. I am most annoyed by it, and so should you be.”

  “Is it not simply nostalgia for their past?”

  One of Georgina’s eyebrows arched. “You need to do something special this evening, my girl.”

  “Are you suggesting I influence him with…myself?” Justine’s voice lowered.

  “J, it’s in a woman’s distinctive arsenal to show her husband her regard and appreciation by providing him with something memorable, unique, and stirring, above all. She must dazzle him and keep him coming back to her, and only her, for more of the same or different, in fact.”

  Justine forced herself to take in a breath of air through her parted lips. She reached for a fresh glass of wine from a passing servant.

  “Am I getting through to you now, darling?”

  Justine nodded as she drank. Her brain had stuck on what the word “different” might imply.

  “This should not be any kind of hardship for you, Lady Graven, or am I wrong?” Georgina asked.

  Justine only shook her head as she swallowed, the liquor warming her throat.

  “I must say,” Georgina’s voice lowered. “Brandon’s new dark and intimidating demeanor is rather appealing actually, once you get over the initial fright, that is. I am curious how that translates to the bedroom.”

  “Georgina!” Justine squeezed her arm tightly.

  “Sorry, can’t help myself.” Both of them returned their attention to Amanda at the spinet.

  Justine moved her head closer to Georgina’s. “You are not wrong,” she whispered then let out a soft giggle. Georgina stared at her. “About his dark demeanor, I mean.”

  “Oh?” Georgina continued to watch Amanda play as her fingers pressed on Justine’s arm.

  “He is exceptionally intense and…”

  “Hmmm?” Georgina nodded this time and a grin began to form on her lips.

  “Ardent.”

  “Ah,” Georgina sighed. “I do have fine instincts. Thank God.” The music faded and Georgina and Justine clapped for their hostess.

  “How are you so familiar with all this feminine strategy?” Justine asked.

  Georgina chuckled. “Since my sister Phillipa married, she has become quite a marvel of the womanly wiles. And I have been a devoted student of hers in order to prepare myself to better navigate married life.”

  Justine laughed. “Lucky girl to have such a sister.”

  “I had to preoccupy myself with something all those months at her house in Devon.” Georgina bit her lip. “You know, underclothes are quite the fashion now for ladies in France.”

  A tide of laughter rose up in Justine’s throat.

  “This is perfect, J. You must take my advice and let me know this evening’s results, and then I will be perfectly confident to use such a stratagem myself one day should the need arise. If I ever get married, of course.” She frowned. “That still remains to be seen.”

  “You expect me to put your theories to the test in my own bed?” Justine asked.

  “Darling, from what I’ve seen of the way your handsome husband looks at you, all sulky and penetrating as if he’s trying his damnedest to read your mind or burn through your clothing, I really don’t think you’re going to have a difficult time of it. All I am saying is be aware. Use your particular charms to your advantage. Amanda is not coming home with you,
is she?”

  “I should say not!”

  “Then you shouldn’t have any problems this evening.” Both of them burst into peals of laughter.

  “Have we had too much to drink perhaps, ladies?” Charles’s impressive form blocked their view of La Amanda at her spinet. Both women swallowed and looked up from his broad chest burnished with the gold buttons of his frock coat, past his prominent shoulders to the angled jawline of his striking face. “Ladies?” he asked again, his blue eyes positively sparkling.

  “Are we misbehaving?” Georgina blurted.

  Justine’s eyes widened. “Have we interrupted the concert?”

  Charles grinned at them, his eyes drinking in both women. “No, you haven’t made spectacles of yourselves yet, but I do think you need a chaperone to keep you both in line for the rest of the evening. No more drink.”

  “Oh, don’t be dull, Mr. Montclare,” said Georgina.

  “One could never be dull in your company, Miss Georgina, I assure you.”

  “My lady?” The servant held Justine’s burgundy wool cloak before her.

  “Yes, thank you.” The cloak fell expertly around her shoulders, and she tugged on the edges of the thick material. The front door was open allowing the guests to exit the house, and the chill of the dark night crept over her as they stood in the hall.

  Sir Wallace bumped into her, and Justine scooted back. He winked at her and leaned in closer, “I’ll be thinking of ye tonight, of that you can be sure.” His watery red eyes hung in his puffed face. He guffawed as he was led away by a footman toward the outer portico. Emily moved with them, her face drawn.

  Justine stepped back from the crowd. Her head ached. Somewhere along the way to the front door she had gotten separated from Georgina and Charles. Brandon had caught up with them at one point, but now even he had disappeared as well.

  She backed up into the opposite hallway and leaned against the wall for a moment to take a breath of air and settle her head in the quiet before she went back out to the busy hall. Yes, she’d had too much liquor this evening, but she enjoyed the looseness in her joints and the molten warmth in her veins.