The Heir - Catherine Coulter [103]
She reached him, looked up into his face, and said softly, “Do you believe it will stain?”
He did not know or care if anyone was looking at them. He leaned down, looked at the very small wet stain, then kissed the tip of her nose, then her chin, and finally her mouth, very lightly.
“Goodness,” Lady Talgarth said. “Surely, my lord, this display is inappropriate for my innocent daughter’s eyes, not to mention dear Elsbeth’s.”
Suzanne laughed. “No, Mama. Finally Bella will be good for something. I will watch her with her husband and learn important things. Husband and wife sorts of things.”
“Suzanne, I will have to speak to your father about this. I am certain that he will agree with me. All you have to do is observe us, my dear, to learn all the important things.”
Suzanne felt close to hysterical laughter.
Luckily, Lord Graybourn was saying to Elsbeth, “Have you ever visited London before?”
And the conversation chaos was avoided until Suzanne said, “Come, Bella, you cannot remain standing there with the earl’s arms around you. My mother will expire from the shock. As for your mother, just look at her pink cheeks.” And Elsbeth was all pink in the cheeks as well, but that was because of Lord Graybourn. Life, she thought suddenly, was indeed whimsical. She realized she was enjoying herself immensely.
The earl looked up, saw that everyone’s eyes were fastened on them, and sighed. He lightly touched his fingertips to her mouth. “Later then.” He added at the wariness he saw clearly on her face, “Trust me. We will work this out, you will see. Go now before I embarrass us further. Your gown won’t be stained.”
“I wasn’t embarrassed.”
He merely nodded. He didn’t know what was happening to him. It didn’t hurt but it was strange, this awkward mixture of tenderness, fury, and lust. So much, yet not enough.
“At last, you are with us both mind and body again,” Suzanne said.
Elsbeth said, “How I grieve for the poor Austrian princess. She was torn from her family and her country all as a political bribe to that horrid man.”
“Do not forget, my dear, that Napoleon ardently desires an heir,” Lord Graybourn said, much struck by this shy young lady’s sensibilities.
“We poor women,” Suzanne said, then ruined it with a giggle. “Bartered and traded about so that we can be the carriers of your precious men’s names.”
The earl laughed. “Come, Miss Talgarth, you paint us as uncaring fellows. Surely we have our uses.” His eyes were on his wife. He wanted desperately for her to look at him. He would prove to her that he could please her, that he could make her laugh, make her eyes twinkle. He wanted to hear her shout and yell at him. He wanted everything in her.
Arabella said quietly, not looking at him, “You do not agree, then, my lord, that most gentlemen prefer their wives to remain quietly in the background, bearing their offspring, and unobtrusively working at their embroidery?”
The earl could not begin to imagine Arabella in the background of anything. She would always be right in front, directing, bellowing orders, laughing, yelling at him as well. He said, “I know you must be speaking metaphorically. I cannot imagine you embroidering for five minutes. You would become bilious. No, no needlework for you, Arabella.”
Suzanne lifted her saucer in mock toast to the earl. “Quite true. Admit, Bella, his lordship has scored a point. Just yesterday during our ride, I could not hold you in conversation for much longer than five minutes.”
Arabella looked first at the comte, then at Elsbeth, who was in quiet conversation with Lord Graybourn. Why hadn’t the dratted man come before the comte had? Damn his eyes. How could he have ever thought he could like Suzanne? But perhaps there was still a chance. Gervaise would be gone soon. Perhaps then Elsbeth would forget him. But she knew she couldn’t tell the earl. He wouldn’t believe her, but even if he did come to believe her, he would not treat Elsbeth well. She couldn’t begin to imagine