The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“Well, Kate seems to think that you much admire Lady Sarah. Told me so, in fact. Tried to act like she didn’t care, but you know Kate, she can’t hide her feelings worth a tinker’s damn.”

Julien silently cursed Sarah but was obliged to admit upon brief reflection that he was not displeased that Kate was distressed. Could it be that she was jealous? A sure sign to him that she had truly come to care for him. He met Percy’s gaze and said quietly, “Don’t concern yourself further. I shall take care of the matter. And, Percy, I thank you for your kindness to Katharine. She is aware, I believe, what a very good friend she has in you.”

Percy coughed. “I say, Julien, deuced nice of you to say that, but you know, well, Kate is such a trump, not at all like a woman, you know? She’s like a comrade in arms, or I think that’s what she’d be if I’d ever been in the army.”

“That she is, that she is. Oh, by the by, Percy, what is François preparing for dinner this evening?”

Percy pursed his lips in thought before replying cordially, “Thursday, ah, yes, poached medallions of veal in Port wine sauce with mushrooms, you know, and served with spinach noodles. Beefsteak stuffed with chicken liver, with vegetables and roasted potatoes. Many other side dishes, of course. I approved all of them.”

“Thank you. I trust that you will grace us with your presence.”

Percy beamed. “Dashed nice of you to offer, March. Don’t mind if I do.”

After Julien and Percy had parted, Julien couldn’t help but wonder if he was not living in a fool’s paradise, pretending that there were really no problems at all, when in fact they were growing wildly in number. He knew that there had been no recurrence of Kate’s nightmare, for though she slept in her own room, he quietly opened the adjoining door each night before retiring.

30

Lady Sarah Ponsonby let her vellum-bound copy of Lord Byron’s The Corsair slide off her lap onto the pale-blue carpet, reached out for a sweetmeat on the table beside her, thought of her thighs, which were a bit too plump, and drew her hand back. She was bored, not only with her doting elderly husband but also with her lover, Sir Edward. Though his adoration for her hadn’t diminished over the past several months, she found him unimaginative both in lovemaking and in his flattery— her eyes were bluer than the pale-blue sky of midsummer? She couldn’t help but make comparisons between Sir Edward and Julien, and she found in all particulars that her portly lover was a decided second to the earl of March, who was not only a beautiful man but an excellent lover as well.

She felt a sudden knot of anger at the thought of the pale-faced girl Julien had wed. She was far too tall, in Sarah’s estimation, and she found it altogether disagreeable that some considered the young countess to be quite beautiful. Well, beautiful or not, she thought, brightening, the baronet’s daughter wasn’t enjoying her good fortune, for all was not well between the earl and the countess. How fortunate it was that one of her lackeys was enamored of a talkative serving maid in the earl’s household, for he provided her with a steady source of prime information. From her own experience, she knew Julien to be a passionate man, and she had first dismissed the careless bit of gossip that he didn’t visit his wife’s bedchamber. But then she had wondered why their wedding trip had been of singularly short duration. Now, since the St. Clairs had been more than two weeks in London and many more bits of information were let slip by her lackey, she was convinced that something was definitely amiss with their relationship.

Her vanity tempted her to believe that Julien realized he’d made a shocking misalliance and was simply biding his time to again seek her out. It was an exciting thought, and she refused to dismiss it. After all, Katharine was but a girl— that rankled a bit— but she, Sarah, was an experienced woman, and a beautiful one, as she had been told countless times, by countless men, including Julien.