which he had smiled and been polite to both Arabella’s family—all those St Claire aunts and uncles and cousins—and numerous members of the ton, who ordinarily would have returned to their country estates this late in the year, but had instead stayed on in town to attend two fashionable St Claire weddings.
No doubt gossip and speculation about the second of the two weddings would sustain many a conversation on a cold winter’s evening before the ton returned to London en masse in the spring—with the added and erroneous assumption that the heir to the Carlyne dukedom would be born an indecently short time after the wedding!
‘Thank you.’ Arabella had no intention of returning the compliment by telling Darius how breathtakingly handsome he looked, in his snowy-white linen and austere black jacket and thigh-hugging black pantaloons, with his hair gleaming deeply gold in the reflection of the hundreds of candles illuminating the ballroom at St Claire House.
Seeing Darius in church earlier, as he’d stood at the altar waiting for her to join him, had literally robbed Arabella of her breath. So much so that for a few brief moments she had been unable to move as the organ began to play. Only the recently acquired knowledge of Darius’s previous offer for her, one that had been made willingly , had prompted her into moving forward on silk-slippered feet.
Apart from her three brothers, Darius now stood head and shoulders above their wedding guests. Even if he had not, the deep gold of his hair and the handsomeness of his features would have distinguished him from every other man in the room.
Or perhaps that was only Arabella’s biased opinion?
‘When can we decently take our leave, do you think?’ Darius looked bored by the whole proceeding.
Arabella arched blond brows. ‘Decently?’ she prodded.
Darius shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Or indecently?’
‘I would have thought, having been through this once before, that you would have more knowledge of the correct etiquette than I? Or perhaps your previous marriage was of such short duration that you have simply forgotten?’ she taunted.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Have a care, Arabella,’ he warned her softly.
‘Or what, Your Grace?’
‘Or I might give myself the pleasure, once we are alone, of placing you over my knee and administering suitable punishment,’ Darius murmured huskily, and was instantly rewarded by the flush that appeared in Arabella’s cheeks.
Of anger? Or anticipation ?
This past week had shown Darius that his new bride possessed all the courage he had imagined and more, as she had steadfastly refused to be daunted by any of the underlying displeasure of the ton in her choice of husband. Just as she had withstood all the gossip and speculation that had circulated around town after their wedding was announced. She had also, without fuss orado, aided her sister-in-law Jane with the arrangements of that wedding. Best of all, she had been gracious and compassionate to Margaret, his brother’s widow, a lady that Darius himself held in high regard, when they had dined with her.
In fact, Darius could not fault Arabella’s behaviour towards everything and everyone this past week. Everyone but himself, that was…
Whenever the two of them had chanced to be alone—which, admittedly, had not been often—Arabella had tended to be either sharply critical or coolly dismissive, giving him little idea as to how she really felt about him. But Darius had every intention of rectifying the coolness of her manner towards him later this evening, once they were finally alone together at Carlyne House.
In fact, the anticipation of at last being alone with her was only adding to Darius’s frustration with the social expectations it was so necessary to fulfil at one’s own wedding. He physically ached to finish what the two of them had started in Hawk St Claire’s study a week ago. Especially when he considered it had been that intimacy which had forced
No doubt gossip and speculation about the second of the two weddings would sustain many a conversation on a cold winter’s evening before the ton returned to London en masse in the spring—with the added and erroneous assumption that the heir to the Carlyne dukedom would be born an indecently short time after the wedding!
‘Thank you.’ Arabella had no intention of returning the compliment by telling Darius how breathtakingly handsome he looked, in his snowy-white linen and austere black jacket and thigh-hugging black pantaloons, with his hair gleaming deeply gold in the reflection of the hundreds of candles illuminating the ballroom at St Claire House.
Seeing Darius in church earlier, as he’d stood at the altar waiting for her to join him, had literally robbed Arabella of her breath. So much so that for a few brief moments she had been unable to move as the organ began to play. Only the recently acquired knowledge of Darius’s previous offer for her, one that had been made willingly , had prompted her into moving forward on silk-slippered feet.
Apart from her three brothers, Darius now stood head and shoulders above their wedding guests. Even if he had not, the deep gold of his hair and the handsomeness of his features would have distinguished him from every other man in the room.
Or perhaps that was only Arabella’s biased opinion?
‘When can we decently take our leave, do you think?’ Darius looked bored by the whole proceeding.
Arabella arched blond brows. ‘Decently?’ she prodded.
Darius shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Or indecently?’
‘I would have thought, having been through this once before, that you would have more knowledge of the correct etiquette than I? Or perhaps your previous marriage was of such short duration that you have simply forgotten?’ she taunted.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Have a care, Arabella,’ he warned her softly.
‘Or what, Your Grace?’
‘Or I might give myself the pleasure, once we are alone, of placing you over my knee and administering suitable punishment,’ Darius murmured huskily, and was instantly rewarded by the flush that appeared in Arabella’s cheeks.
Of anger? Or anticipation ?
This past week had shown Darius that his new bride possessed all the courage he had imagined and more, as she had steadfastly refused to be daunted by any of the underlying displeasure of the ton in her choice of husband. Just as she had withstood all the gossip and speculation that had circulated around town after their wedding was announced. She had also, without fuss orado, aided her sister-in-law Jane with the arrangements of that wedding. Best of all, she had been gracious and compassionate to Margaret, his brother’s widow, a lady that Darius himself held in high regard, when they had dined with her.
In fact, Darius could not fault Arabella’s behaviour towards everything and everyone this past week. Everyone but himself, that was…
Whenever the two of them had chanced to be alone—which, admittedly, had not been often—Arabella had tended to be either sharply critical or coolly dismissive, giving him little idea as to how she really felt about him. But Darius had every intention of rectifying the coolness of her manner towards him later this evening, once they were finally alone together at Carlyne House.
In fact, the anticipation of at last being alone with her was only adding to Darius’s frustration with the social expectations it was so necessary to fulfil at one’s own wedding. He physically ached to finish what the two of them had started in Hawk St Claire’s study a week ago. Especially when he considered it had been that intimacy which had forced
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