Sabrina whipped around and silently cursed herself for reacting so quickly. Her heartbeat kicked up, and her insides seemed to float.
Dressed in dark, somber evening wear, Aldington was even more handsome than she’d thought him to be. His tawny hair caressed his forehead as his gaze riveted on her. Though he stood several feet away, she felt his perusal and caught the subtle widening of his eyes. Had she caused offense?
Her anticipation took an anxious turn as he strode toward them. She offered him a tremulous smile as she silently cursed her sudden agitation.
“Good evening,” he said as he arrived at their group. He took a position between Sabrina and MacNair. His gaze kept lingering on Sabrina.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cassandra said. “I was just telling Lu that I need you both—primarily you—to convince Father that Sabrina should take over as my sponsor. It’s already decided so we just need you to ensure Father approves the change.”
Sabrina marveled at the way she spoke to her brother. She didn’t ask, she asserted. Isn’t that what Sabrina had done with Aldington when she’d arrived in London? She’d laid out her expectations quite plainly. For all the good it had done her.
“I see. I’m just to do your bidding then?” Aldington asked evenly. Sabrina couldn’t tell what he thought of the plan.
“Yes, please.” Cassandra flashed him a smile.
Aldington shook his head. “Fine. If you care about my opinion, it is a very good idea.” He glanced toward Sabrina with a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
“I care,” Sabrina whispered, though she didn’t think he’d been addressing her. “Thank you.”
Surprise replaced the curiosity, and he quickly averted his eyes from hers.
“Cass, let me take you for a spin around the room,” Lucien offered. He looked to his brother. “You should take the countess around. There are likely plenty of people who’d like to speak with her since she’s just arrived in town.”
Looking at Aldington askance, Sabrina caught the brief scowl he sent Lucien. Why was he upset? Was she really that distasteful to him? She glanced down at her new gown and briefly touched the sapphire necklace adorning her throat. This was by far the most sophisticated she’d ever looked. If she couldn’t entice him tonight, she doubted she ever could. But then, perhaps her appearance had nothing to do with his disdain.
She was about to open her mouth and say she was going to the retiring room, but he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
He was only doing this because to refuse would have been humiliating for both of them. Sabrina put her hand on his sleeve with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
They started a circuit of the room, but he quickly led her into a corner. “My apologies, but I need a word with you before we’re swept up with other people and mindless conversations.” His gaze raked her, provoking a heat she wished she didn’t feel. Now that her body knew how to respond, she felt that heat most profoundly in her sex.
“Why are you like this?” He licked his lower lip, and the simple act intensified the abrupt need within her.
“Like what?”
“Dressed like this, here at this rout, agreeing to be Cassandra’s sponsor.” His gaze met hers. “Who are you?”
Chapter 7
As soon as the asinine question left his mouth, Constantine wished he could swallow it back. “I know who you are,” he said lamely.
She’d stiffened and currently showed no signs of relaxing. “I should hope so.”
“Still, you’re different.” He couldn’t get over the cut of her gown and how the slope of pale flesh above the bodice made him want to rip the garment from her. “You look beautiful.” He realized that sounded bad, as if she wasn’t always the most gorgeous woman in the room. “But then you always do,” he added softly.
“Thank you.” She sounded…surprised? “I still don’t understand. You say I’m different and seemed to indicate that was because I’m beautiful, but then said I always am, so how can that be different?”
When she put his words like that—with logic—he sounded like an absolute blockhead. “You’re acting differently. You’re more outgoing, dare I say assertive. I’m not used to that at all. You’ve always been shy. I was surprised when I arrived home tonight and learned you were here. I am shocked you weren’t cowering in a corner.” He inwardly winced at the word cowering even though it was accurate.
She drew a breath, which made him look toward her chest, something he didn’t really need any prompting to do. “I’m not going to do that anymore. Does that bother you?”
“Er, no. But it will take some getting used to. Are you certain you wish to be Cassandra’s sponsor? She likes to attend events and is very social.”
“Yes, I think it’s my duty, actually.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. “That’s quite admirable of you. I appreciate your support of my sister. If you can manage to see her wed by the end of the Season—the sooner, the better—my father would be delighted.”
“If I manage to facilitate a match of any kind, my hope is that it will delight Cassandra.” There was an edge to her tone that made Constantine nervous. He still didn’t recognize this woman. Yes, she was going to take a great deal of getting used to.
“Are you sure this”—she gestured down towards her gown as if it were the crux of his concern—“won’t be a problem for you?”
“How you dress is no problem, provided you aren’t showing too much flesh.” His gaze once again strayed to the creamy skin above her bodice, and he remembered the amount of her back that was exposed. He’d glimpsed her from behind as soon as he entered, his attention drawn to the stunningly gowned woman before he realized he was ogling his wife. And now, when he thought of her shoulders, her neck, the tempting view of her upper back that was available to anyone who cared to look, he felt a sudden and staggering burst of possession.
Her brow knitted, her delicate, honey-gold brows pitching toward one another. “I wasn’t just speaking of my attire, although it seems you are troubled by this gown.”
Troubled was not the right word at all. He was bloody aroused.
“It is not what you typically wear. But then you are not at all the woman I thought I had married.”
“How would you really know? It’s not as if you’ve spent a great deal of time with me. The woman you see tonight is the woman I am. I suggest you reconcile yourself to that fact. Please excuse me.” She brushed past him, her skirts swinging against his calf as she walked back toward the group they’d left. Only now, it was just the ladies—Cassandra, her companion, and Mrs. Renshaw.
Constantine stared for a long moment, realizing he’d offended her but not certain of exactly how. He hadn’t spoken ill of her. He’d only told the truth—she wasn’t the woman he thought he’d married.
But she had also spoken the truth: he hadn’t spent much time with her and perhaps his idea of who she was and who she actually was were not the same thing. His head began to ache.
“That didn’t seem to go very well.”