Virtue

25

Sebastian's plan worked like a charm. Marcus was engaged to dine with friends and was not in the house to see his wife leave, a cream domino and loo mask over one arm. Awaiting her in a hired chaise at the corner of the square was Gracemere.

Judith greeted him with a brilliant smile. "Such an adventure, my lord," she gushed with all the enthusiasm of a child being given a treat. "I've never been to a public ridotto before."

The earl bowed over her hand. "Then I'm honored to be the first to introduce you to its pleasures." He handed her into the chaise and climbed in after her. "I trust you'll be pleased with Ranelagh. It's said by some to be prettier than Vauxhall."

It was a relatively mild evening and Judith would have been enchanted by her first sight of the gardens, brilliantly lit by myriad golden lanterns, if she hadn't had other things on her mind. She had to ensure that she and her companion met up with Sebastian's party before they all became lost in the anonymous throng parading along the gravel walks in dominoes and masks.

"I'd like to dance," she said. "May we go to the pavilion?"

"By all means." The earl bowed and took the loo mask from her. "Allow me."

She endured the feel of his fingers deftly tying the strings of the mask, struggling to hold herself away from him without giving him any indication of the depths of her revulsion. She left the cream domino hanging open from her shoulders, revealing her ball gown of sapphire taffeta. It was a startling color that set her hair on fire, and Sebastian would have little difficulty recognizing his sister in the crowd, despite the mask.

They had circled the ballroom only once, before Sebastian saw them. He was in a group of friends, lounging against the wall, ogling the dancers with the appearance of those who've escaped from the restraints of convention and are determined to enjoy themselves in whatever outrageous fashion presented itself. They held tankards of porter and blue ruin, and were imbibing freely as they exchanged indelicate observations on the company.

"Good God, it's m'sister," Sebastian declared, his voice slightly slurred, as Judith and Gracemere came within earshot.

Judith felt her partner's sudden rigidity. "Sebastian," she called, breaking free from the earl. "What are you doing here? Isn't it a famous adventure? I've never seen such people. Do you know, there were people chasing each other around the lily pond just now. They'd taken their masks off… Oh, my lord, I beg your pardon."

She turned with a radiant smile to the earl, whose expression was well hidden by his mask. "What a coincidence. My brother's here, too."

"So I see." Gracemere bowed. "Your sister had a great desire to sample the delights of a public ridotto, Davenport. I offered my services as escort."

"Why, Ju, you know I would have escorted you m'self," Sebastian said reproachfully. "But let me make you known to my friends."

A woman in a green domino moved out of the window embrasure as Judith took her brother's arm. There was no mischief to be wrought here, no tale of tarnished virtue to bear to the Most Honorable Marquis of Carrington. Agnes Barret went home.

From then on, the earl's carefully constructed scheme of seduction disintegrated. Sebastian, in the merry fuzziness engendered by gin and porter, remained convinced that Gracemere could only be as delighted as they all were at this serendipitous meeting, and nothing would satisfy him but that they should join together and have supper in one of the rotundas, where they could observe the cits and the ladies of the demimonde to their hearts' content. Several jesting references were made to the Marquis of Carrington's possible reactions to his wife's indulging herself in such vulgar fashion, and Judith seemed to become as tipsy as her brother and his companions as the evening wore on.

Gracemere could do nothing but sit amid the rowdy group, waiting impatiently for the evening to end. He felt like an elderly uncle who'd strayed into a party of exuberant youth. Judith's behavior was certainly inappropriate for the Marchioness of Carrington, but her identity was well concealed behind her mask, should any other members of the ton have also decided to pass such an unconventional evening. But in any event, she could be accused only of an excess of high spirits. There was nothing of which to make a public scandal, and no capital that the earl could make out of his escort. Instead of a private, intimate supper in a dimly lit box, they were supping very publicly under the full glare of a dozen candelabra in the company of Judith's brother. If it ever became known, Society's censure would be slight, tempered with indulgence. Instead of moving flirtation down the paths of overt seduction, he was obliged to watch his prey's disintegration into a giggling ingenue, leaning against her brother for the physical support she needed so vitally. He assumed Agnes had returned home.

At the end of the evening, he was forced to endure Sebastian's rollicking company in the chaise. He couldn't refuse his request for a ride home without it seeming most peculiar, so he sat in the corner of the chaise bale-fully listening to the brother and sister's drunken giggles and infelicitous observations.

When the chaise drew up in Berkeley Square, Sebastian lurched down the step. "I'll walk m'sister to her door," he said, hiccupping through the window at Gracemere. "My thanks for the ride. Famous evening… famous sport." He grinned crookedly, and put a finger to his lip. "Mustn't let it get about, though, must we?

The earl sighed and agreed faintly, before taking Judith's hand and raising it to his lips. "You'll understand, I'm sure, my dear Judith, when I say that I don't consider your debt paid. The terms of the agreement have not been met by tonight's little entertainment."

Judith blinked at him, squinting as she tried to focus. She seemed to be struggling with an errant memory. "Debt, sir? How did it come about that we… Oh, yes." She smiled triumphantly. "I remember now. We must play piquet again, you know. Next time /'//win the wager and I'll drive your blacks in Richmond Park."

"Maybe so," he said with a dry smile. "But first we must settle the original debt. You'll not renege, I know."

"Oh, no… no… course not." Judith hiccupped, smiled fuzzily, and tripped down the step to the pavement, where she turned and waved merrily at him through the window. He knocked on the panel and the coachman set the horses in motion. Gracemere looked back through the window as they turned the corner of the square. Brother and sister were still giggling as they stumbled up the steps to the house.

Of all the wretched pieces of ill luck… and the gullible simpleton couldn't even hold her drink. He would contrive better next time.

"I think we pulled that one off rather neatly," Sebastian observed, reaching for the door knocker.

Judith shook her head. "So neatly that I fear he's going to call the payment null and void and demand a rerun."

"We'll find a way around it," her brother assured her.

Judith chuckled. "Yes, of course we will. But I'm sure he thinks you're even more of a nincompoop than ever." They were still laughing when the night porter opened the door. "Good evening, my lady."

"Good evening, Norris. Is his lordship returned?" "Yes, my lady. He's in the library, I believe." A wicked idea occurred to Judith, borne on the ebullience of a successful masquerade. It was one of her more asinine ideas, she would subsequently admit. Wishing her brother a swift good night, she went into the house, making her way directly to the library as she retied her loo mask.

Marcus, ensconced beside the fire, awaiting his wife's return, looked up from his Tacitus as the door opened. "I give you good night, my lord," Judith said, leaning against the door, smiling rather vaguely at him. "Did you pass a pleasant evening?" The question was punctuated with a discreet hiccup.

"Yes, thank you." Marcus closed the book over his finger, regarding his wife with some puzzlement. She seemed to be sagging against the door in a boneless kind of way, and her smile was rather unfocused. "How was your evening?"

"Oh, famous!" She said with another hiccup. "I beg your pardon…" She covered her mouth with one hand. "It just seems to happen… so silly…" A giggle escaped her.

Her loo mask was askew, Marcus noticed. "Judith, are you foxed?" It seemed an extraordinary explanation, but he was familiar enough with the condition to recognize it.

She shook her head vigorously. And then hiccupped again. "Course not… just a trifle bosky." She swayed and giggled again. "Oh, don't look so prim, Marcus. It's not kind when I feel so warm and woolly."

"Come here!" he commanded, putting his book aside.

Judith pushed herself off the door and weaved her way toward him, knocking against a spindle-legged drum table. "Oh, dear." She grabbed it and steadied it with great deliberation, swallowing another hiccup. "Careless of me. Didn't see it there."

"So how was your evening, truly?" She plopped onto his lap with a sigh of relief. "My legs are tired. I'll lay odds you were not as entertained as I was… oh, I beg your pardon." A spasm of hiccups overtook her for a minute, then she rested her head against his arm, smiling that skewed smile, her eyes heavy-lidded in the slits of the loo mask.

"Where the devil have you been?" he demanded, reaching behind her head to untie the mask, torn between amusement and disapproval.

"To Ranelagh," she said with a cozy smile. "A public ridotto. Very vulgar, but famous fun. Went with Sebastian and his friends." Her eyes closed but the smile remained.

Participating in a vulgar masquerade was one thing, coming back thoroughly under the hatches was another altogether. "What the hell have you been drinking?"

"Gin," she said.

"Gin!"

"Oh, and porter," she offered, as if in mitigation. "Blue ruin and porter." She snuggled into his shoulder, her body boneless in his lap. "You should have come."

"I don't recall receiving an invitation," he said drily. "But if I had done, you wouldn't have come home in this state, I can assure you."

Her eyelids fluttered coquettishly. "You're not going to be a prude and scold, are you?"

Marcus sighed. "There would be little point in your present condition. Anyway, the condition carries its own punishment. I wouldn't want your head in the morning."

"Stuff," she said on a renewed attack of hiccups.

"Just wait. Come on, I'll put you to bed." He stood up, lifting her in his arms. She flung one arm around his neck, burying her face in his neck.

"For God's sake, keep still. I don't want to drop you.

"Oh, no," she muttered. "Wouldn't want that. Think I told Millie not to wait up for me."

"With some foresight. I can't imagine what she'd think if she saw you like this."

"Oh, you are being a prude." She tweaked his nose.

"Stop it, Judith." Disapproval was gaining the upper hand over amusement.

In her bedchamber he dropped her onto the bed. She bounced and yawned, flinging her arms and legs wide. "I'll go to sleep now."

"You can't go to sleep in your clothes." He lifted her feet, pulling off her satin pumps and tossing them to the floor. Pushing up her skirt, he unfastened her garters and drew off her silk stockings. "Stand up." He hauled her to her feet and unhooked her gown, while she swayed, humming to herself, that beatific smile still on her lips.

The gown fell to the floor in a rich rustle of taffeta and Marcus was reminded of the first time he'd undressed her in the inn on the road to Quatre Bras. It was a memory that in any other circumstances would have aroused him. Not tonight. He pulled her petticoat over her head.

Judith chose that moment to fall back on the bed with a sigh. Marcus bent over her, his lips tightening as he unfastened the tapes of her pantalettes. "Lift up." Obligingly she raised her hips so he could pull the garment down.

Her eyes opened suddenly in sleepy, seductive invitation and she ran her hands over her body, naked except for the pearl collar she wore at her throat and the pearl drops in her ears. She offered him the same skewed but rather delightful smile.

"God in heaven," Marcus muttered. "Where's your nightgown?" He found it in the armoire and pulled her into a sitting position, dropping the fine lawn over her head. "Where are your arms?"

"Here," she mumbled from within the volumninous folds of material, flapping her arms helpfully.

"Dear God!" he muttered again, thrusting the unwieldy limbs into the long sleeves. "From now on, madam wife, outside these walls you drink nothing but orgeat and lemonade, is that clear?" He removed her jewelry before pulling back the covers and maneuvering her under the sheet. Then he stood looking down at her, shaking his head.

Suddenly her eyes shot open and she was laughing up at him, all traces of befuddlement gone from her expression, the curiously smudged lines of her face snapping back into their customary firm delineation. "I fooled you, and I really didn't think I'd be able to."

His jaw dropped. "Judith, you… you devill" He stared at her, not trusting the evidence of his eyes. But it was absolutely clear that she was as sober as she'd ever been.

Judith hitched herself up on the pillows, chuckling. "You ought to know me well enough by now to know that I'd never really get foxed. It's just an act that Sebastian and I perfected. If you think I'm convincing on my own, you should see us together."

"I imagine it serves to disarm quite a few gulls," he said in a flat voice.

"Well, yes," Judith agreed. "On occasion it did. But it's perfectly harmless."

"Harmless? You are a baggage, and I cannot imagine how you've escaped being whipped at the cart's tail through every capital on the Continent." He turned from her, seething with fury. "How dare you play your tricks on me?"

Judith suddenly realized the magnitude of her error. In the exultant aftermath of foiling Gracemere, she'd allowed herself to get carried away. Of all the tactless, stupid ideas-to play Marcus for a fool with the tricks of her disreputable past!

"Oh, Marcus, it was just a little fun," she said, leaping out of bed. "I'm sorry if you don't like being teased." She put a hand on his arm but he snatched it away. "Oh, please," she said, putting her arms around his waist, laying her head between his shoulder blades. "Please don't be cross. I really didn't think you'd mind being teased, but I accept it was wrong and thoughtless of me."

"It isn't a matter of being teased," he said. "You played me for a fool, and I will not be treated like one of the simpletons you and your brother have been exploiting all your adult lives."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "It was a grave error of judgment, I understand that now, but I really didn't mean any harm by it. Please forgive me."

There was no mistaking the contrition in her voice. Marcus allowed his anger to subside, recognizing that it had two causes: his own feeling of foolishness at having fallen for such a trick, and his dislike of any reminders of her past life. He probably should have guessed the truth. Judith was too much in control of herself and her life to yield to intoxication… only the appearance of it as and when it suited her.

"Don't you ever treat me like that again."

"I won't, I promise." She squeezed his waist. "But you haven't said you forgive me."

"I forgive you."

"Penance?"

He pulled her arms free of his waist and hauled her around in front of him, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll think of something appropriate once you've told me just what you were doing at Ranelagh."

"But I have told you. I went to the ridotto with Sebastian and some of his friends."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"Because I knew you'd be stuffy about it." She gave him a roguish smile. "And you would have been, so don't deny it."

"I wasn't going to. A public ridotto is no place for the Marchioness of Carrington."

"I know, but no one recognized us… there was no one there to recognize us."

"Your brother's idea of evening entertainment leaves much to be desired. However, I assume he didn't escort his prospective fiancee?" he asked aridly.

"No, of course not," Judith said. "He doesn't even like it when Harriet goes into a card room. But it's different with me."

Marcus wondered how Harriet would feel once she came face to face with the exclusivity of her husband's relationship with his sister. "It would seem that Sebastian and I have similar attitudes to what's appropriate for a wife," he observed. "I could wish that occasionally he'd remember that as well as being his sister, you're also my wife.

"He doesn't forget that. But neither does he make decisions for me," Judith pointed out. "As it happens, going to Ranelagh was my idea." Not entirely true, but near enough.

"I would have escorted you if you'd asked." His hands slipped from her shoulders to clasp her arms. "Do you prefer Sebastian's company to mine, lynx?"

"No, how could you think such a thing?" She was genuinely distressed at such an interpretation, but the sticky threads of deceit were entangling her again. She couldn't tell the truth about the evening, but without the truth, it appeared that she had chosen her brother's company over her husband's-indeed, had deliberately excluded her husband.

"It's very easy to think such a thing," he said quietly. "I didn't think it would have amused you," she improvised, with a touch of desperation. "London is still quite new to us and we're accustomed to thinking of different things to do in new places. We just fell into an old habit."

He let it go, although the ring of truth was somehow lacking despite the plausibility of the explanation. "Very well, let's leave it at that." His hands slipped from her arms.

It sounded rather grudging to Judith. She turned back to the bed, ebullience vanished in a fog of dejection. "Just a minute."

Something in his voice banished melancholy. She paused, one knee on the bed, the other foot on the floor. "There remains the small matter of penance." Judith looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes now sparkling with anticipation. "Yes, my lord?" Eagerness laced the dulcet tones.

He trod over to the bed. "I think I'll let you choose your own… later. For the moment, kneel on the bed." Reaching across her, he pulled the pillows out, tucking them against her belly as he unfastened his britches.

Judith laughed softly, drawing her nightgown up to her waist, falling forward over the piled pillows. "A fitting end to a ribald evening, sir."

"Abominable woman," he said, one hand in the small of her back as he guided himself within her. "If I had a grain of common sense, I'd banish you to Berkshire, where you couldn't get up to any more mischief." Judith had no immediate rejoinder and shortly was beyond any coherent verbal response, although her body spoke to him with perfect fluency.