Improperly Wed Page 9

  To Belinda’s discomfiture, however, Colin was acting as Hawk’s best man. Belinda wondered if Pia’s romantic nature was at work in the choice. After all, not so long ago, Pia had suggested that Easterbridge was drawn to Belinda like a moth to a flame.

  Pia gave her a bright and tremulous smile before facing the minister.

  Belinda was truly happy for her friend. But much as she hated to disillusion Pia, Belinda didn’t think she and Easterbridge bore even a passing resemblance to Romeo and Juliet—though their families, she admitted to herself, might rival the Montagues and Capulets.

  Belinda kept her eyes firmly on the Anglican minister as he began to speak. When the time came for the couple to recite their vows, though, her gaze drifted of its own volition to Easterbridge’s.

  “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife…”

  Colin’s face remained cool and fixed, but his eyes were hot as they looked into hers.

  “Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Belinda felt herself heat, as if she could feel Colin’s caress as well as see it. Every bone in her body seemed to melt under Colin’s gaze.

  The memory of their own wedding rose between them. It had been just the two of them, the officiant and standby witnesses called in by the chapel. Their service had been a lighthearted, can-you-believe-we’re-actually-doing-this reverie. They’d both been looking forward to consummating their marriage.

  “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband…?”

  Once upon a time, Belinda thought, she’d answered yes to that question to the man standing a few feet from her and eating her up with his eyes.

  “Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Pia had chosen to modernize the traditional vows by omitting a reference to obey and instead using vows that mirrored the groom’s.

  Colin smiled ever so slightly.

  Belinda raised her chin a fraction. Was he recalling that she similarly had chosen not to obey? It was a good thing, because the very next morning she’d chosen not even to keep him.

  She recalled Colin’s puzzlement and then thin-lipped control when she’d nearly bolted from their hotel room, horrified at her rash actions.

  She had never imagined Easterbridge would agree to obtain a marriage license before she slept with him. She’d followed through rather than changed her mind because she’d been irresistibly drawn into his orbit by that point and Vegas was an uninhibited gambler’s paradise.

  It had been irresistibly seductive to be wanted so much. And now that Easterbridge was staking his claim on her again—moving heaven and earth to do so, in fact—she felt almost…cherished.

  Belinda tingled down to the tips of her toes. Her gown was a modest peach chiffon confection, but under Colin’s gaze, she felt as if she were wearing a revealing sexy ensemble, and enjoying its effect.

  Colin looked as if he could lift her up right now and carry her down the aisle and directly to a bed—his bed.

  At least, Belinda thought, she’d gotten desire if not love. Easterbridge had given a vow to love her, but he couldn’t have meant it—not after knowing each other so briefly.

  She held back a sigh. It would be wonderful if a man could vow to love her and mean it. She’d never had the opportunity to test the proposition with Tod because their ceremony had been cut short. And with Easterbridge…

  Because she felt unexpectedly teary, she drew herself up straighter.

  Rats.

  She would not give Easterbridge the satisfaction of seeing her get emotional. Though it was not unusual, of course, to cry at a wedding, she knew Colin would wonder if it was Pia’s happiness or her own memories that had caused her tears.

  Fortunately, she was able to make it through the rest of the ceremony without a hitch.

  Later, at the wedding breakfast at Silderly Park, she found Pia and hugged her again.

  Tamara walked up to them just as the quick embrace ended.

  “I’d join the hug, too,” Tamara quipped, looking down at her stomach, “if I didn’t have a basketball in my way.”

  “I’m so very happy for you, Pia,” Belinda said, blinking more rapidly than usual and then casting a glance at Tamara. “And for you, too, though you look ridiculously radiant as a pregnant lady.”

  “Only because my morning sickness has stopped.” Tamara turned to Pia with a smile. “I suppose we’ll need to address you as Duchess from now on.”

  “No, ma’am will do,” Pia teased.

  As a duchess, Pia outranked both Belinda and Tamara, who were marchioness and countess, respectively.

  Belinda was sincerely glad that Pia and Tamara had found happiness with Colin’s friends, the Duke of Hawkshire and the Earl of Melton. Still, though to the outside world she might be a marchioness, Belinda knew that, unlike Pia and Tamara, her marriage wasn’t built to last.

  Sure, both Pia and Tamara had encountered roadblocks on the way to a happy marriage. Pia had had a fling with Hawkshire years before—when he’d represented himself as simple Mr. James Fielding—that had ended with her feeling discarded until their reunion years later gave him a second chance to earn, and this time, keep her love. Tamara, in contrast, had entered into a marriage of convenience with Melton that had turned into a love match. But Belinda doubted that a similar happy ending was in store for her and Easterbridge.

  As if reading her mind, Pia leaned in conspiratorially. “What is happening with you and Easterbridge?”

  “It’s your wedding day,” Belinda protested. “Let’s not talk about other matters.”

  “I’m already pulling rank as a newly minted duchess,” Pia teased.

  Belinda knew Pia meant well, and since Tamara looked on with interest, she reluctantly gave in. “I suppose then that this is as good a time as any to tell you I’m no longer pursuing a way to dissolve my marriage to Easterbridge.”

  Pia clasped her hands together. “Oh, Belinda, that’s wonderful news. You and Colin have decided to try to make it work.”

  Tamara looked doubtful. “I’m not so sure Belinda regards it as happy news, Pia. In fact, I’m guessing there’s more to the situation than she’s saying.”

  Pia widened her eyes. “Is that true?”

  Belinda sighed. “I did warn you this wasn’t a fitting discussion for a wedding day.”

  Pia touched her arm. “Oh, no.”

  “Let’s just say Colin has plenty in common with Sawyer and Hawk in the complicated courtship department.”

  Pia looked surprised and Tamara resigned.

  “He’s blackmailing you?” Tamara hazarded a guess.

  Belinda raised her eyebrows. “Why use an ugly word like blackmail when proposition will do?”

  Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “Just what is Easterbridge offering you?”

  “Colin is now the proud owner of the Wentworth family town house in Mayfair, as well as the old estate in Berkshire.”

  Pia gasped, and Tamara’s expression turned to one of sympathy.

  Belinda resisted the urge to rub her temples. “Apparently, my uncle believed that the corporate entity to whom he was selling was a cloak for a wealthy foreigner who preferred anonymity. He didn’t know it was Easterbridge until I broke the news to him recently.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Belinda shot Pia a glance that said she agreed with the sentiment. “Of course, this change of ownership is all hush-hush. No one is supposed to know about it, and Uncle Hugh is continuing to reside at the town house in London.”

  “Well, don’t worry,” Pia said, “as far as I know, Mrs. Hollings hasn’t gotten wind of this angle to the story.”

  Belinda frowned. “What do you mean by angle?”

  Pia and Tamara exchanged looks, as if debating who was going to tell her.

  “Ou
t with it.”

  Pia pasted on a smile. “Mrs. Hollings published news in her gossip column this morning that you had moved into Halstead Hall and that you and Colin have decided to make a go of your marriage.”

  Belinda closed her eyes. “Oh, Pia, on your wedding day!”

  “It’s all right,” Pia soothed. “My wedding will no doubt feature prominently in tomorrow’s column. Mrs. Hollings’ column is actually what prompted me to ask about you and Colin.”

  Belinda sighed. “I didn’t want to trouble you with my news in the days before your wedding, and Tamara is pregnant and has other things on her mind.”

  The truth was also that she was still coming to terms with her new status quo with Colin.

  Belinda had no idea how Mrs. Hollings got her information. The woman seemed to have sources everywhere. On the other hand, Belinda acknowledged that she herself had not gone to great trouble to conceal her steps, either. She had appeared on Colin’s doorstep last week with weekend bag in hand and had let it slip at work that she’d been at Halstead Hall. For better or worse, she was going to be Colin’s wife for the next two years, and word was bound to get out sooner or later.

  She knew her marital status had been a source of speculation and interest at Lansing’s, and elsewhere in New York and London. Everybody was aware of the debacle at St. Bart’s last year—some had even been eyewitnesses.

  She supposed that the silver lining to Mrs. Hollings’ gossip column today was that her work colleagues would stop conjecturing about her marital status and see her as settled into married life.

  Tamara fished a cell phone out of her small handbag. She scrolled down and then handed her phone to Belinda.

  Belinda read the text with unease.

  This columnist has it on good authority that a certain marquess and marchioness are nesting in Berkshire near H****. Could it be that a little birdie will hatch next spring?

  Belinda mentally winced.

  She handed the phone back to Tamara. “Isn’t there something you can do to stop Mrs. Hollings? Doesn’t she work for Sawyer’s media outlets?”

  Tamara shrugged as she put away the phone. “Mrs. Hollings is a renegade. Sawyer believes in the separation of the news and business sides of his companies. He won’t interfere to kill an individual story.”

  Belinda grimaced at Mrs. Hollings’ words. Hatch a little birdie? She hadn’t even slept with Colin again—yet. She’d arrived back in England from New York just in time for Pia’s wedding.

  “What are you going to do?” Tamara asked.

  Belinda lifted her shoulders. “What can I do? Nothing. No annulment, no divorce.”

  “So that’s it? You plan to stay married…until death do you part?”

  “Not quite,” Belinda admitted, hedging. “I’ve talked Easterbridge into a sort of postnuptial agreement. The longer we stay married, the more Wentworth property I can walk away with in a divorce.”

  In fact, Easterbridge had had a short agreement drawn up by his solicitor while Belinda had gone back to New York. She’d had her lawyer review it, and the agreement had been signed just yesterday.

  Pia looked deflated. “Still, perhaps Colin really does care for you, because what other incentive would he have for agreeing to such an arrangement?”

  “Hardly,” Belinda responded.

  Tamara tilted her head. “And so, you’re planning to stay the course in this marriage until you gain title to all the Wentworth property?”

  “Exactly.”

  Belinda watched Pia and Tamara exchange another look.

  “Just be careful,” Tamara finally spoke. “Take it from me, this marriage of mutual convenience situation can be trickier than you think.”

  Belinda knew Tamara was remembering her own predicament with Sawyer, when her future husband had also made marriage a condition to the both of them getting what they wanted.

  Belinda bit her bottom lip. “I’ve already learned my lesson, remember? I eloped with Easterbridge once. It’s not the type of mistake that I intend to make again.”

  She knew she had to keep her guard up with Colin. She didn’t have a crystal ball or good insight into his motivations.

  Pia looked doubtful. “Well, this time you’re already married, so the only thing that can happen is—”

  Warningly, Tamara gave a quick shake of the head.

  “—anything,” Belinda acknowledged, finishing for her.

  At the wedding reception, Colin barely took his eyes off of Belinda. He stood to one side of the ballroom and took a sip of his wine. He knew he had unmasked desire on his face. He was committing the unbelievably gauche sin of lusting after his own wife at a social event, but he didn’t give a damn.

  After Pia and Hawk’s wedding ceremony, followed by a traditional wedding breakfast, everyone had repaired and refreshed in time for an elegant black-tie dinner-dance in Silderly Park’s ballroom.

  When Colin had first caught sight of Belinda tonight, she had stunned him with a body-hugging gown of crimson satin. She wore a large ruby-and-diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings. A delicate flower-motif tiara nested in her upswept hair.

  He’d presented her with the jewels when she’d arrived at their hotel for the wedding. He’d texted her in advance to ask the color of her dress, and if she’d wondered why he bothered asking, she hadn’t let on. He meant tonight to be a statement to everyone that Belinda was his marchioness. Not only were many entrants in Debrett’s Peerage in attendance, but he thought he’d spotted a photographer for Tatler, the society glossy.

  Across the room, Colin stared at the ruby pendant resting in the deep V of Belinda’s cleavage. It twinkled and taunted him. If he thought he’d been tempted this morning during the wedding ceremony, he was certainly in purgatory now as a result of her crimson fire ensemble. It was all he could do not to sweep up Belinda and carry her away from the conversation that she was having with a Spanish countess.

  Belinda had arrived from London only this morning and had parked her bags in their hotel suite with just enough time to get ready for the wedding. He’d missed her this past week. If anything, their recent skirmishes had increased his desire for her.

  Colin handed his empty glass to a passing waiter and walked deliberately toward his wife.

  At the last moment, Belinda turned her head and spotted him. She widened her eyes.

  “Hello, darling,” he said, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek before she could move away.

  The Spanish countess smiled at both of them.

  “Colin, may I introduce you to—”

  “We already have made each others’ acquaintance,” he interrupted smoothly. “Pleased to see you again, Countess.”

  “Likewise, my lord.”

  He cupped Belinda’s elbow. “You would not mind if I lure my beautiful wife away for a dance…”

  The countess smiled again and inclined her head. “Of course, not.”

  “Oh, but—”

  Colin turned Belinda in the direction of the dance floor. “The next song is about to begin.”

  After a moment’s resistance, Belinda let him guide her toward some other couples.

  When they reached the dance floor, he turned her to face him.

  She frowned up at him. “Neatly done.”

  It wasn’t a compliment. Nonetheless, he smiled easily. “Thank you. I assume you know how to waltz?”

  “Yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was forced to take comportment lessons as a teenager.”

  His smile widened into a grin. “I can see the results. Your manners are exquisite, particularly toward me.”

  “Sarcasm is not appreciated,” she grumbled.

  He slipped his hand around her waist, and when she laid her hand in his, he pulled her closer.

  She sucked in a startled breath. “Of course a romantic like Pia would want the waltz played at her wedding.”

  “Lucky me.”

  He’d been itching to touch her all evening, even if it was through the
satiny barrier of her dress.

  The music began, and they started gliding in circles around the dance floor, keeping time with the other couples.

  Colin’s eyes stayed on Belinda’s as the world receded around them and they were swept away by the notes of “Waves of the Danube.”

  Her eyes were more amber than green. They reflected her emotion in a way that she probably wouldn’t be happy about but that was fascinating and useful for a gambler at heart like him.

  Right now, her eyes were telling him that she was affected by their nearness although she was trying hard not to let it show.

  He could feel her body heat under his hand at the small of her back. Her lips were slightly parted and carried a lustrous red shimmer that called to him.

  The look of her lips just saved him from being entranced by the ruby practically tucked in her bodice. If it was gauche to gaze hungrily at one’s wife, then staring at her cleavage was beyond the pale.

  “If you keep regarding me that way, we may go up in flames,” she said sharply.

  “You’re the one wearing red.”

  “Yes, it was clever of you to lend me jewels that are magnificent as well as a flashing fire alarm right over my cleavage.”

  He choked back a laugh. “Someone needs to put a warning sign on you.”

  “More like a stamp of ownership—”

  He inclined his head and didn’t deny it—so she had understood his intentions with his gift.

  “—As well as a clever excuse for you to stare at my breasts.”

  He looked down just to annoy her. They still hadn’t broken a step of the dance, and she kept a smile fixed firmly on her face.

  “It is a stunning ruby,” he murmured, “surrounded as it is by diamonds and the pillow of your creamy breasts. I was imagining the same when I chose the necklace and the tiara from among the jewelry in the family safe. The earrings, however, I picked out myself this week at Garrard.”

  She shot him a look of liquid fire that nevertheless said she didn’t know how to react. Should she be angry with him for his sexual banter, thank him for his gift or give in to the attraction that was undeniable between them?