The Phoenix Of Love. Susan Schonberg

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       Chapter Five

      As Olivia’s grandmother let out an exclamation of horror, Traverston picked up his wife’s still form and carried her swiftly from the room. With luck, he found an unoccupied salon a few doors down from the ballroom. Carefully he deposited his bundle on a red velvet sofa.

      Within moments. Lady Raleigh and the earl came hurrying into the room, each demanding an explanation.

      With a calm that astonished the earl, given his friend’s intensity earlier in the evening, Traverston swiftly walked to the entrance of the salon and closed the door, effectively blocking out the startled onlookers. He turned back to face the pair, his expression a mask.

      “Is this young woman really Olivia Wentworth?” he demanded, his harshness at odds with the delicate way he had treated his wife. His question cut through Lady Raleigh’s impending tirade.

      “Of course she is,” she replied with outrage. “Why should you doubt it? And what on earth possessed you to say such an incredible thing to my granddaughter?” The dowager duchess’s demands were every bit as compelling as the marquis’s in tone and temper.

      Traverston sneered slightly as he replied, “I doubt it, because the last time I left my wife,” he said, emphasizing the last word, “she was safely ensconced at Gateland Manor.” The marquis’s hostile glare beat down on the small wrinkled form of Olivia’s grandmother as he waited for her reply.

      Before his very eyes, Lady Raleigh seemed to gain height and stature. She drew herself up to meet the marquis’s challenge. “My lord,” she began grandly, imperiously, “I believe we should discuss this in private.”

      Turning briefly toward the earl, who had witnessed the past five minutes in stunned silence, Lady Raleigh supplicated in a very different tone of voice, “My lord, I kindly ask that you watch over my granddaughter. I don’t want her to wake up in here alone.” He had nodded his head, for once unable to move his normally quick tongue, and the old woman marched out of the room without sparing a single glance for the marquis. It was obvious that she expected the marquis to follow.

      Amazingly he did. It was evident to the marquis that Lady Raleigh was familiar with the house, because she unerringly led him to the Eddingtons’ massive library. After a quick glance around the dimly lit room, she beckoned the marquis in and shut the door.

      With a grim smile she turned and faced her opponent. “I doubt the tabbies will be able to make anything of my being cloistered in here with you. I’m at least twice your age.” Then, as if it had only been an illusion, her smile disappeared. “We must talk.”

      Traverston responded with a slight nod and waited for her to continue.

      “My lord,” began Lady Raleigh, only to falter. The fact of the matter was she didn’t know what to say. Her magnificent diamond tiara and necklace sparkled in the candlelight as she began to agitatedly pace across the carpet. In all her long years, she had never had to deal with a situation like this. The simple fact of the matter was that the Dowager Duchess of Stonebridge was at a loss.

      Watching her evident confusion, the marquis felt a trace of pity for the old lady. But almost immediately he squelched the emotion. She should be uncomfortable, he reasoned. This muddy state of affairs rested on her head. How dare she bring his wife into society without notifying him first?

      At length, Lady Raleigh began again. “My lord,” she addressed him, her voice stronger and with more authority than before, “my granddaughter has lived with me for the past six years, and I never once heard her mention your name.” She stared at the marquis triumphantly, as though she had finally hit upon the heart of the problem.

      Traverston was silent, his eyes mere slits as he studied her. Did this woman really expect him to believe that she knew nothing at all about his marriage to Olivia? It was impossible! Unthinkable!

      And then his conscience nagged at him. Or was it?

      Casting his mind back to the scene in his family chapel so long ago, the scene he had tried so carefully not to remember, Traverston realized it might indeed be possible.

      After all, what proof did he have that Wentworth had informed his daughter of her married status? What mention had he heard made of the arrangement in front of Olivia? A smile almost flashed across his face as he remembered a young girl solemnly declaring “amen” to the question of matrimony. She hadn’t even realized she had a leading role in the wedding ceremony, the poor chit.

      But she was hardly a chit now. His loins became warm at the thought of the regal beauty lying close by. No, she was a woman, and a highly desirable one at that. He couldn’t quite grasp the enormity of having such a stunning morsel as his wife. For that matter, he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of having a wife at all, much less one that looked like Olivia.

      As the marquis mused on these matters, his reply was almost inaudible. “I imagine that is because she never knew my name.”

      Lady Raleigh stared at the marquis, her mouth forming a surprised O. His was an unanticipated response. “But…but that is absurd!” she sputtered.

      At the dowager’s outrage; he snapped out of his reverie. “What? Not knowing her own husband’s name? I couldn’t agree with you СКАЧАТЬ