Page 67 of Cold November Rake

Beside him, Temperance tensed.

She was frightened.

He should have told her the truth about Marie long before tonight, but he had never found a way to broach the subject. He should have.

If tonight had been a perfect dream for Sutton, it had surely been a nightmare for his wife.

They stepped inside.

Marie stood in her silver gown with her back against the dressing table, both hands buried in the hair of a slight, brown-haired woman in a blue dress. She was kissing her with the unguarded hunger of someone who had been waiting all evening to do it.

Sutton and Temperance stopped short.

"Apologies, I didn't know—" Sutton began.

The woman in blue broke away with a gasp, turned scarlet from her collar to her hairline, and murmured something to Marie in a rush. She slipped behind the painted screen in the corner, and a second, smaller door clicked shut behind her.

Temperance stood rooted just inside the door, her mouth slightly open, entirely at sea. Sutton, to his shame, found himself smirking.

"Knocking," Marie said with throaty exasperation, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "would be nice."

"You should be glad it was only me," Sutton said. "If my parents had walked in, you would have scandalized them into the next century."

Marie swatted his arm with a fan that had been lying on the table, and he caught it, laughing. Something crossed Temperance's face as she watched their easy interaction.

Envy? Hurt?

He cleared his throat.

"Marie, meet my wife, the Countess of Sutton. Temperance, Miss Maria Giuditta Sontag."

"So this is the wife," Marie said, studying Temperance from head to toe with undisguised curiosity. "No wonder you have been hiding her, my lord. She is absolutely exquisite."

She crossed the room and took both of Temperance's hands in hers. Temperance, who had so clearly braced for coolness, stood blinking down at their joined hands.

"At last I meet the infamous Lady Sutton."

"The gossip sheets have made me quite well-known," Temperance said with a visibly strained smile.

"Oh, no, no. I did not mean that." Marie waved a hand as though the gossip sheets were a smell in the room. "I know you from all the times Sutton would not shut up about you."

Temperance turned her head and stared at him.

Sutton wished the floor would open.

Marie did not let go of her hands. She continued studying Temperance with frank admiration.

Sutton felt a familiar prickle in his chest.

"Do not look at her like that, Marie," he said. "She is my wife."

Marie threw back her head and laughed, a rich, low, delighted sound.

Temperance seemed completely confused by their interaction, but she quickly composed herself.

"I was entirely overwhelmed by your singing," she said. "I have never heard anything like it. I forgot where I was, and the entire show passed by in a blink."

Marie's expression softened. "That is the best thing anyone can say to me."