Read Online Saved by Scandal by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page B

No, he did not, would not, love his wife.
    Half the chaps in London seemed to, though. If one more gudgeon slapped him on the back in congratulations, he’d be black-and-blue by morning. And he thought this was a private parlor! How could he deny his friends, though, when they were sending in bottles of champagne and bouquets for the bride?
    Since he could not lock the door to keep them out without incurring more talk, and less food, Galen gritted his teeth and made the introductions. The gentlemen made no mention of previous acquaintanceship with Lady Woodbridge, and Margot made no mention of previous propositions tendered and rejected, although Galen knew from Skippy that many of these same fellows, married or otherwise, had sought Margot’s favor. He hated them all, and their champagne tasted like dishwater.
    Margot was starved after her performance, having, in fact, eaten little all day but some poppyseed cake at tea this afternoon. She let his lordship banter with the many callers, accepting their well wishes and the usual nuptial innuendoes, while she did justice to her meal. Then she began to notice that all of their callers were men, except for one widow in a dampened skirt and one young miss on her brother’s arm. He’d get a bear-garden jaw from his mother in the morning, Margot had no doubt. His lordship was about to discover what a misalliance he had made. He might think he was falling in love, although Margot was wise enough to recognize his declaration as gratitude and glibness. Galen must tell all his brides that he loved them, and all his ladybirds, too. His lordship’s infatuation would wither away when he realized his new viscountess was damned as a demi-mondaine , no matter her ancestors or her innocence. The meringue tasted like mud.
    Margot was beginning to look deuced uncomfortable, in fact, and Galen was tempted to land a facer on the next nodcock who poured the butter boat over her. When he noticed that she’d stopped eating and stopped smiling at the men who called at their table, he signaled to the waiters to leave the room and see they were undisturbed. “They’ll behave more respectfully when their wives are around,” he told her. That must have been the wrong thing to say, for she choked on something and had to swallow a hurried sip of wine. She grew paler, too, leaving those faint freckles more visible across her just-scrubbed cheeks.
    “They won’t come,” was all she said, pleating the napkin in her lap.
    “Who won’t come where?”
    “The women, your friends’ wives. What, did you think they were all at home with the headache this evening, sending their husbands out to dine alone? They are all tittering over their tenderloins, just outside this dining parlor. Did you not notice how the ladies turned away when we were escorted past their tables? They will not be calling, I assure you.”
    “Gammon. They were all staring, I swear. Once they hear of your connections, they’ll be eager to leave their cards. I’ll prove it to you. What do you say we hold a reception at the end of your theater engagement? Two weeks ought to be enough to do it up right. No grand ball, just a dinner and some dancing or cards. No one who is in Town will refuse, I promise.” Galen would call in every marker he’d ever been owed if that’s what it took. Hell, he’d call on Princess Esterhazy and Lady Drummond-Burrell and Sally Jersey if he had to. He’d danced with enough platter-faced chits at Almack’s for them; they could come dance at his wife’s party. Once they conversed with Margot and saw she was more of a lady than half the members of the beau monde, they would welcome her to their ranks. If they did not, well, the viscount could not see any great loss. Who needed stale bread and orgeat and unfledged chicks every Wednesday night?
    Margot was still worrying her napkin. “And what of your father? Will he come stand on the receiving line with his son’s new wife?”
    “He will if his