Arianna quelled a flare of annoyance as he sidled closer. Temper, temper. For Mellon’s sake she would do her best to be polite.
Tilting his head to the light, he ran a hand through his hair, leaving the blond curls artfully tousled. “Will you and your husband be traveling to the Peace Conference in Vienna, Lady Saybrook?”
Oh, well done, sir. She wondered how many hours it had taken to perfect the deliberately careless gesture.
“No,” she replied aloud. Actually, I would rather be dropped into the hottest hole in Hell. “My husband and I have no interest in politics.”
“Ah, but it promises to be a spectacle, the likes of which the world has never seen before.” The torchieres danced in the evening breeze, gilding his face with a reddish gold glow. “Kings, emperors, archdukes, margraves—why, with all the bejeweled splendor and dazzling finery, Vienna will sparkle brighter than the heavenly stars. Every night there will be dancing and feasting.” He looked up at the night sky. “And of course, flirting.”
“It sounds . . . delightful.”
“Demand that your husband take you there, milady.” Rochemont smiled and winked. “A newlywed man does not dare deny a beautiful bride a heartfelt request.”
“Really?” She let the question dance away on the breeze before asking another one. “Are you married, sir?”
“But of course.” He shrugged. “However, it is—as you English so delicately phrase it—a marriage of convenience.”
Which most likely meant the lady’s family gained the prestige of allying with an ancient and august title, while the comte gained a great deal of money.
As for the lady herself, no one much cared whether or not she benefited from the arrangement. She was simply a pawn.
“How convenient for you,” she murmured.
“That is how I look at it.” His gaze slid down to her cleavage. “All very civilized, n’est pas?”
“That all depends on how you choose to define the word,” she replied.
“Ah, a lady who is interested in philosophy. How very intriguing.” His handsome mouth curled up at the corners. “Pray, how would you describe your marriage, Lady Saybrook ?”
As something infinitely more complicated than the bartering of wealth and power.
Arianna decided to deflect his intimate probings with a show of humor. “It is still so new to me that I’ve not yet had a chance to form any definite opinions.”
His laugh was low and throaty, a sound suggestive of rumpled silk and whispered passions. “You,” he said slowly, “are a fascinating female. Pray, tell me more about yourself.”
What would you like to know? That my father was a disgraced earl who was forced to flee from England to the West Indies? That from the age of fourteen I had to fend for myself, working as an actress with a traveling theater troupe, a cutpurse, a cardsharp and a faux French chef?
She brushed an errant lock of hair from her cheek. “Really, sir. We ladies live such boring lives. The rules of Society allow for little adventure.”
“Don’t tell me that you haven’t ever wanted to break the rules, Lady Saybrook,” he teased.
Arianna was quickly growing bored with his blatant flirtations.
Rochemont interpreted the meaning of her silence in a far different way. “Come to Vienna,” he urged with a flash of his pearly white teeth. “I promise that you will enjoy yourself.”
“A tempting offer.” Lifting a gloved hand, Arianna slowly uncurled a finger and turned his chin. “However, you will have to look elsewhere for amusement. I’ve no desire to travel at the moment—I am quite satisfied with my life here in London.”
“A pity.” He captured her hand and with a lazy grace, turned it palm up and brushed his lips over the soft kidskin. “But life is . . . how do you say . . . quixotic. One never knows when things may change, non?”
The echo of his question gave way to the silvery sound of a bell, signaling that it was time to move into the dining salon.
“Enjoy your stay in Vienna, Lord Rochemont,” said Arianna, coolly disengaging herself from his hold and steering the conversation to a blandly impersonal subject. “I wish you luck in your diplomatic dealings.”
The oblique rebuff seemed to take him by surprise. Light winked off his lashes, gold sparking with gold as he narrowed his eyes. Clearly he was used to women falling in worship at his feet.
His hubris, however, quickly reasserted itself. “I am always eager to pursue a new challenge, Lady Saybrook.”
“I imagine you will encounter more than enough of them in Austria to keep you satisfied.” It was her husband who responded to Rochemont’s assertion. Amusement shaded the earl’s voice, along with a sharper undertone that Arianna couldn’t quite identify. “Are you ready to go in to supper, my dear? Charles has just informed me that you will be seated between Herr Grimfeld and Colonel Lutz of the Bavarian delegation.”
“Are they friend or foe? I confess, it is hard to keep track of all these German factions,” she said drily.
He chuckled. “Perhaps we should have our host hand out a primer on all the European rivalries, along with the menu.”
“Ignorance is bliss,” she said under her breath.
And with that, they returned to the glitter and gaiety of the stately manor house.
“Dio Madre, I thought the evening was never going to end.” Stepping through the door connecting their bedchambers, Saybrook unwound his cravat and stripped off his coat.
As was their habit at home, they had dismissed their valet and maid, preferring to undress themselves at night.
“You, at least, enjoyed a bottle of superb port with your cigars, while I and the other ladies were served tea.” Arianna tossed her shawl on the dressing table. She was very fond of the Portuguese wine, so it rankled that ladies were never permitted a taste in Polite Society.
Her necklace followed.
Saybrook winced slightly. “My great-great-great-grandmother was given those baubles by Queen Elizabeth. After passing through wars and pestilence unscathed, we should try to keep them in one piece to pass on to the next generation.”
She watched the candlelight play across the faceted gems. “Your uncle seemed to unbend just a little tonight. I wonder, do you think he will ever come to like me?”
“He doesn’t dislike you,” said Saybrook, taking a seat on her bed.
She was still getting used to habits of the English aristocracy. It was de rigueur for husband and wife to have separate bedchambers, both at home and when visiting.
Especially when visiting, she thought a little sardonically. The discreet name cards on all the doors were apparently to help late-night trysts go smoothly.
“No, he simply disapproves of your marriage,” replied Arianna.
“He”—her husband seemed to be searching for words— “worries about the family. He has no children, and I have no brothers, so—”
“So he thinks me unfit to continue the line?” Tired and tense from the evening’s complicated social demands, she interrupted more sharply than she intended.
“I didn’t say that,” he answered calmly.
His reasonableness somehow made her even pricklier. “You didn’t have to.”
Silence greeted the reply
Family. When they had first met, Arianna had envied Saybrook and his relationships. His grandmother’s journals, brimming with chocolate lore and her earthly observations on life, had been a source of solace during his illness, while a loving uncle and aunt had provided the affection and support of surrogate parents.
But perhaps being all alone was easier, she thought sardonically. One could be supremely selfish.
The world is so much simpler when seen only through the prism of one’s own needs and desires.
“I am sorry,” said Arianna, her voice still a little rough around the edges. “It should have occurred to me when you offered marriage that you would expect an heir.” An uneasy pause. “I—I should have thought to inform you that . . . I may not be able to produce a child.” She sat down, and as she began combing out her hair, she tried to catch his reflection in the looking glass.