Sheri Cobb South by The Weaver Takes a Wife Read Free Book Online Page B

Helen, that your husband is—” she glanced across the room at the plebian Mr. Brundy, deep in conversation with Lady Randall, and struggled for something generous to say. “That is, er, well, he certainly is—”
    “Yes, Miss Maplethorpe,” agreed Lady Helen in clear, carrying tones, “he is quite fabulously wealthy.”
    Mr. Brundy could not possibly have failed to hear this declaration, but Lady Helen was denied the satisfaction of seeing his response by the quick-thinking Lady Randall, who chose that moment to announce, “I have decided to give a ball in honor of Mr. Brundy and Lady Helen, Miss Maplethorpe. Do say you will come!”
    To Lady Randall’s surprise, Mr. Brundy’s face turned crimson. “You’re too kind, me lady—”
    “A ball?” gushed the spinster Miss Maplethorpe, oblivious to her host’s discomfort. “Why, Lady Randall, what a splendid idea!”
    “Splendid, indeed,” agreed a new voice. “I beg you, Lady Randall, do not forget me when you make out your guest list.”
    Lady Helen’s heart leaped into her throat as Lord Waverly entered the room with feline grace. She had been dreading his discovery of her unequal marriage more than any other. How he would mock her for marrying such a man, when she might have been his countess! And what could she say to his jibes, when he would be quite correct in his assessment?
    “Lord Waverly,” she said with admirable calm, holding out her hand to him.
    “Mrs. Brundy,” he replied with a faintly mocking smile, raising her ungloved hand to his lips. “You behold me devastated.”
    Her answering smile was a brittle one. “Devastated you must be, my lord, if you have forgotten how to address me. Though I am wed, I am still ‘Lady Helen’ to you.”
    “If you might lower your chin, Lady Helen,” begged the artist, hard at work behind his easel.
    “But of course you are still Lady Helen. How very gauche of me.” Lord Waverly’s gaze fell to the diamonds glittering against her décolletage. “You told me once you had a fancy to be gilded. It would appear you have achieved your ambition with a vengeance. I congratulate you.”
    Mr. Brundy, observing this exchange, conceived a violent dislike for the gentleman whose bold gaze raked his wife’s bosom with detached interest. Although he vaguely recalled seeing the man in Lady Helen’s box that night at Covent Garden, he could not remember having been introduced. Then again, he might have been introduced to the Prince Regent himself and not remembered; he’d had eyes only for Lady Helen Radney.
    “ ‘Oo’s ‘e?” asked Mr. Brundy, leaning over to address the viscount in an undervoice.
    “The Earl of Waverly. The fellow used to be one of Nell’s suitors.”
    Mr. Brundy had not supposed that Lady Helen Radney would have been completely without admirers, but until now these gentlemen had been an anonymous lot, without names or faces to cause him undue concern. Now the bridegroom weighed his vanquished rival’s elegant figure in form-fitting coat and tight pantaloons, and found him wanting. “Why, ‘e’s naught but a bloomin’ fashion plate! I’ll not believe ‘elen could care for such a man-milliner!”
    “As to that, I couldn’t say, but before Papa lost his—that is, before you offered for her, ‘twas on the books at White’s that she would have Lord Waverly.”
    While Mr. Brundy digested this information, Lord Waverly exchanged pleasantries with Lady Randall and Miss Maplethorpe, then bethought himself of an appointment with his tailor and rose to take leave of his host.
    “Weston, in Old Bond Street, you know,” he added by way of explanation, then raised his quizzing glass to examine Mr. Brundy’s poorly cut morning coat. “Then again, perhaps you don’t.” He shook hands with the weaver, then wiped his hand on the tail of his coat in a gesture that was not quite surreptitious enough to go unnoticed by the bridegroom. “I congratulate you on your recent nuptials, Mr.