The Other Side - J. D. Robb [44]
She prayed again. Please keep us safe and help us find our way back. Soon!
Five
“Lord Fellsborough!”
Bettina looked around to see who was calling out, certain it was not the voice of God answering her prayer. God would never announce a name in so seductive a way, even if God was a woman, which was as likely as the idea that God was a man.
It was Patricia Melton, of course. This outing was turning into a living nightmare.
Mrs. Melton was driving her own carriage, a delicate-looking curricle picked in blue and silver. She was smart enough to wear a dark blue habit, not the same material as Bettina’s this time. The lighter blue and silver of her conveyance framed her body as the habit and bonnet framed her blond hair and blue eyes.
With a smile that she had practiced in front of a glass, Bettina rode over to the woman with a little more haste than was seemly.
“Mrs. Melton.” He bowed to her from his seat. Patricia Melton raised her fan so that all attention would be focused on her very sultry eyes. Probably because her teeth were so bad that she did not want anyone to see them. On the other hand, what one really wanted to feast the eyes on were her breasts. Bettina had never noticed how full-breasted the woman was. She caught herself and decided that she was only noticing now because her male body was—um—fascinated. Yes, that was the word.
“You are here alone, my lord?” Patricia Melton asked.
“No, my wife rode ahead to speak with the Duchess of Lowbray, who is with us after visiting her first grandchild in Kent.”
Mrs. Melton made a face, or at least her eyes crinkled unbecomingly. “I can see that you have better things to do than to hear about a newborn, even if he is going to inherit a dukedom.”
“I do have a newborn of my own, you recall.”
“Yes, I do. During your wife’s lying-in we had that lovely interlude at the Graves’ party. I was hoping we could reprise that experience.” The woman leaned forward so that her breasts were on view for him alone.
Bettina had no idea what to say. Harry had sworn that Mrs. Melton meant nothing to him. Exactly what did an “interlude” mean? Before Bettina could think of a response more innocuous than, “I never want to see you again, you fat cow,” they were interrupted by the groom who accompanied them. “My lord, the countess would like your help with her saddle.”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Bettina snapped and then waved her hand at him, appalled at how much like Harry she sounded. Besides, she wanted to know exactly what her husband had to say about the “interlude” Mrs. Melton referred to. “Excuse me, Patricia. My wife needs my attention.”
“Oh, I am sure she does, my lord.” Mrs. Melton spoke as though she were very familiar with just such an intimacy.
Bettina rode to Harry’s side. He was on the edge of a grove of trees that gave them some privacy. Good, because this question would not wait. “What exactly does a woman mean when she reminds a man about an ‘interlude’ they shared?” She tried to sound as though it was idle curiosity that prompted the question.
“What are you talking about? Can you please check the saddle? It feels loose.”
Bettina glanced at the perfectly snug fit of the saddle and ignored his question. “Tell me what happened between you and Patricia Melton at the Graves’ party.” The edge in her voice commandeered Harry’s attention quite effectively.
“Graves’ party? When was that?”
“While I was recovering from Cameron’s birth.”
“That was months ago. I don’t remember.”
She leaned forward, hoping to see the truth in his eyes. “You had sex with that woman and don’t remember?”
“What?” Harry’s horse sidled away, and Harry had to take a moment to settle her. “Bettina,” Harry leaned even closer to her as he whispered her name, “I swear before God that from the moment we married, I’ve never had sex with anyone but you. Why can you not trust me?”
If