Page 39 of His Wife, the Spy
“You should try a corset, my lord.” Annabel unpinned his tie to straighten and refold the fabric. However, to re-pin it, she would have to slide her fingers beneath his shirt.
“Perhaps I will,” he quipped. “I’ll ask Madame Genest for a fitting.” Jasper slid her fingers between his buttons but kept his gaze level with hers. “Would you recommend lace trim?”
“Lace can be itchy, and it would ruin the line of your shirt.” His body warmed the back of her hand, even through her gloves. “If you wanted frippery, you might consider stitching. Flowers, perhaps.” Madame Genest had stitched flowers into the corset she was wearing tonight.
The pin passed over her gloves without snagging the fabric, which was a miracle considering the tremble in her fingers. “Though madame would likely swallow her tongue, and half of Society would blame you for the death of their favorite modiste.”
“I’m willing to risk it if you’ll go to my tailor for a cravat.” He flashed a bone-melting smile. “A red one to match the roses on my corset.”
“What if I prefer pink?”
He tilted his head back and laughed, full and long. “I look better in red.”
The carriage door opened. “Lord and Lady Ramsbury, if you please.”
Jasper climbed down first and brushed the footman aside to hand Annabel down himself. She looked up at him as she took the arm he offered. “You did that on purpose to distract me from where we are.”
“I like it when you forget to be proper.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips and winked before he escorted her into the Haverstocks’ ball.
“The Marquess and Marchioness of Ramsbury,” the doorman announced.
Every head in the room turned to stare. Ladies snapped open their fans to hide their whispers, as though Annabel couldn’t imagine them anyway.Annabel Pearce, with no looks and no dowry, had at least been smart enough to trap a wealthy husband.
A warm hand covered hers.
I don’t need a rich wife. I need a suitable one.
She was more than suitable. And she was smarter than most. She glared into every glittering stare. She was smarter than all ofthem.
“Shall we go find our hosts, Lady Ramsbury?”
The crowd began to swirl again, and Annabel snorted an unladylike laugh.
“What’s funny?” Jasper’s breath heated her temple and stirred the dainty curls Barnes had expertly twirled around the curling rod.
“I attended a Zoological Society lecture last year.” It had been a final treat to herself before she began looking for a position, while her time was still her own. “The topic was the sea life in the Caribbean, specifically the predatory ones.” She kept her voice low so the couples waiting ahead of them in the receiving line could not overhear. “If sharks stop moving, stop hunting, they die.”
He squeezed her hand. “But I believe he also said they are solitary creatures.”
“Mostly, but some travel in schools. I wonder if they learn useful things like arranging—” She looked up into his eyes, which were much closer to hers than she expected. “You were there?”
His smile widened. “So you either didn’t see me or didn’t consider me to be interested in things past my own nose. I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted.”
“You keep telling me you have no feelings to hurt,” she said, mimicking his breezy tone. “Besides, you didn’t notice me either.”
They stepped forward in the line.
“Men aren’t allowed in the upper galleries with the single ladies. Fear of orgies, you know.”
The couple in front of them turned to give them both disapproving stares. Annabel rapped Jasper’s knuckles with her fan, which only made his laughter worse.
“Married ladies, however, can sit with their husbands,” he said. “It’s a little-known rule, likely because most men attend the lectures to avoid their wives.”
Annabel couldn’t stop giggling, which only drew more attention. “If you don’t behave, we’re going to be eaten alive.”
“Can’t have that just yet.” He cleared his throat and straightened to his full height as they greeted the Earl and Countess of Haverstock and moved into the crowd. Annabelcould see nothing but dresses and curls, so she was left to trust Jasper as he searched for friends.
“There’s Carmichael.” His hand was warm at her back and his fingers shaped to her waist to guide her. “This month’s lecture is on the tigers in India. Would you like to attend?”
