“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. Annabel could 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?”

“Very much, thank you.” She refused to be embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice. He’d offered her something better than any dress or glittering jewelry, and she wouldn’t lie about her excitement.

“I must say, Ramsbury, I expected you to still be on your wedding trip,” Lord Carmichael said when they reached the couple. Their table was far from the dance floor.

“We discussed it but decided to wait until the session had concluded for the summer.”

“And you agreed to postpone Paris for London, Lady Ramsbury?”

“Do not tease her, Trevor,” Lady Carmichael said. “Annabel is far more levelheaded than most of us.”

Though the compliment made her sound as interesting as a table, Annabel smiled her thanks to her friend. “My husband’s work in Parliament is far more important than visiting Mr. Worth, Lord Carmichael.” She sipped her champagne and did her best not to wrinkle her nose before setting it aside. She had never developed a taste for the drink’s sharp, sweet taste.

“Thank you, darling.” Jasper looked over the rim of his glass, his blue eyes warm.

Tingles shot from Annabel’s scalp to her toes, and her breasts pressed against her corset until her nipples rubbed against the fabric. It was an alarming, but not distressing, reaction.

The orchestra took their seats, and the floor cleared. Jasper set his glass on a nearby tray. “Shall we dance, my lady?”

She blinked at his outstretched hand before following his arm to his face. His smile held a challenge.

“The highest-ranking gentleman dances with the hostess to open the ball.” Even as she said it, she placed her hand in his.

“There’s always a duke lying about somewhere at these things, especially this time of year.”

As he spoke, a gentleman in a kilt led the countess to the floor. Annabel craned to get a better look. “Is that the Duke of Argyll?”

“It is,” Jasper whispered, warming her ear as he put a hand to her waist. “He addressed Parliament this morning on the subject of liquor taxes.”

He urged her to the floor when it was their turn in line. Rather than staying near the edges, as men had always done when dancing with her, Jasper led her under the chandelier and took her in his arms for a waltz. “Don’t be nervous. I want everyone to see how proud I am of my new wife.”

It was exactly what he would do to thumb his nose at the persistent gossip regarding their marriage. It didn’t mean that was what he truly thought. Still, warmth surged through her until she relaxed in his strong embrace. “Thank you, Jasper.”

Chapter Nine

He was becoming addicted to making his wife smile.

Jasper spun Annabel under the lights in the ballroom, enjoying the brush of her skirts against his trousers and the way her hand grasped his. Rather than a vine clinging to him and waiting for him to move, she had strength and agility that challenged him to improve his footwork.

“I wasn’t aware that you followed my parliamentary career,” he said. He’d been surprised both by her knowledge and the ring of pride in her voice.

“Don’t most wives?”

He didn’t believe his mother had ever discussed politics with his father. “I don’t know. I’ve never had one before.”

“A wife, or a career?”

“Touché, Annabel.” He looked past her to the other dancers.

When he entered Lords as the Earl of Lambourn he had stayed at his grandfather’s shoulder. For the first few sessions, he’d voted in lockstep with the old man, learning as he went. All it had taken was one argument, one thump of a cane, for Jasper to step out on his own. After that, he’d carried his tenants’ concerns with him and learned to negotiate to meet their expectations.

Now Grandfather was gone. He was the marquess, and on his way to becoming an effective statesman. He had formed alliances with men who wielded their power wisely.

At the beginning, it had been more of a chore than a privilege. Now something thrummed in him every time he entered the chamber. He wanted to make a difference in the country, not just the counties where his property lay.

But he had no idea what that looked like.

“Jasper?”

A shiver of pleasure went down his spine. Annabel never used his name in public. It brought all sorts of private places to his mind, helped along by her breath on his neck and her body under his hands. She was staring up at him, concern written across her face. He’d spent weeks teasing her until she laughed with him. Now she’d teased first, and he’d not lived up to her expectations.

“I’m fine.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Every lady in the ton will race to tell you I have no feelings to hurt.”

He missed a step in their dance and narrowly avoided treading on her foot. He’d kissed her. In the middle of a dance floor. And, given the amused stares from several of his friends, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered. “We must be near Lord Argyll. Every lady in the room has been admiring his legs in his kilt.”

“They’re likely wondering what he’s wearing underneath.” He grinned down at her. “There’s a rumor that Scotsmen wear naught but fresh air.”

She blushed to her hairline. “That would be inconvenient in a waltz.”

Cad that he was, he was considering how convenient it would be in other ways. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

“That you should have a kilt to go with your corset?”

And how many ways he could use a pink cravat. Jasper leaned close to her ear. “Do you have pink roses against your skin, Lady Ramsbury?”

A shiver went down her spine, teasing his fingers and his imagination. Dear God, she smelled like a spring field in the Wiltshire sunshine. How many times had he lain in those fields, staring up at the sky, and let the grass tickle his ears?

Her eyes sparkled wickedly. “Peonies, my lord.”

He should have known. Roses were far too delicate and fragile for her. Peonies, on the other hand, were sweet and hardy, and they worked hard to be upstanding and straight, even if their stems betrayed them.

The waltz ended, and Jasper bowed to Annabel before ushering her from the floor and back to the chair beside Lady Carmichael. The walk helped rein in his thoughts and ease the tightness in his trousers.

Cousin Amelia and her husband Richard were at the table, chatting with Lord and Lady Carmichael. Jasper bent double to kiss her cheek. She returned it and squeezed his shoulder on her way to Annabel.

“Ferrand.” He shook Richard’s hand. “Good to see you in London.”

He liked Amelia’s husband. He had a level head, a keen business sense, and a fortune he’d earned through hard work. He also voted well as Uncle Augustus’s proxy.

“You as well.” Richard looked past Jasper to the ladies. “But be prepared. Amelia’s talked of little else but cornering Annabel for a long talk.”

They returned quicker than expected, both smiling. Amelia returned to Richard’s side like a magnet. “I’m stealing your wife tomorrow, Cousin.”