"Leave us."
Beatrice felt the maids stiffen at the sound of the voice that boomed in the room, scaring even the chandelier above their heads.
She turned to Noah, a small frown creasing her forehead at the sight of him. What was he doing in her room looking so breathtaking in that black tailored suit and sparkling white cravat?—she mused, barely hearing the maids as they hurried out the door. She could do nothing but stare at him.
He stared at her as well. Standing motionless in his position by the door, his gaze darkened as it crept down her face, to her neck, pausing briefly on her breasts left exposed by the low-cut neckline of her red dress, before sliding down the tight bodice to her feet.
She cocked her head to the side as she watched his lips part slightly with pleasure; she had hoped, upon her decision to wear this dress, to elicit this look from him. "What are you doing scaring my maids out of my chamber?" she called, gaining his attention.
He raised his gaze to her. "What are you doing looking so ravishing?" He raised a brow as he crossed the room to where she stood by the dresser. Pausing behind her, his arms curled around her waist, drawing her further against him. "You should not be working so hard to seduce me, dear wife," he whispered warmly against her ear.
Fighting the unsanctimonious thoughts that raced through her mind in that second, she ran her tongue across her bottom lips. "I'm not."
"Whatever you're doing, it's working." He slid his hand down her arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
Leaning back further against him, she sighed. "We have a ball to attend."
"Indeed." He kissed her neck.
"And we're the hosts."
"Ah..." His lips trailed down her neck to her bare shoulder, the warmth of passion weakening her knees.
"We cannot be late, Noah," she croaked.
"Perhaps we must move the ball to another date," he asked, and for a second, she considered his question. But only for a second, for she was quickly reminded of the reason for the ball.
"The rumors shall spread if we do," she announced, gaining his attention. Reluctantly, he released her and stepped back. She turned fully to observe the frown on his face. "I am as loath to have this ball as you are, but..."
"Our child," he said, his gaze shifting down, where the signs of life growing within her remained concealed by her flat stomach.
She was pregnant, barely but a few weeks, but she had known even before the physician confirmed it. With the knowledge of her pregnancy came the indisputable fact that they needed to make an official announcement of their marriage. Perhaps they had been silly enough to think they could live quietly as man and wife alone in their home in Camden, caring nothing for the opinion of the ton. But they were forced to rethink their decision upon the news of her pregnancy, for she knew her child would be labeled a bastard otherwise. The misconception of being pregnant out of wedlock would also destroy what was left of Beatrice's reputation, and Noah was unwilling to stand for that.
Reluctantly, the two had planned a ball and journeyed back to London at the start of the season to make the announcement.
"You look breathtaking." She motioned to his suit, changing the topic.
Glancing up, he grinned. "As do you." He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her satin glove. "You're beautiful."
Heat climbed up her neck, setting her face on fire as she smiled up at him. Nearly a year of marriage, and the man still possessed the power to make her blush.
"Is that why you're here, to tell me for the umpteenth time how beautiful you find me?" she teased.
"I shall never tire of saying it, my love." He kissed her hand once more, before releasing it and burying his hand in his pocket until he produced a small, velvet black box.
"What is it?" She watched it curiously.
He pulled it open, the sight before her momentarily stealing the air from her lungs.
"It's a family heirloom," he said, pulling it out of the box and holding it up before her. She gawked at it. The enormous diamond winked at her; surrounded by a crown of blue sapphires, it was attached to a gold band. "It was given to my great grandmother by her husband and passed down to my father, who gave it to my mother."
Wincing, she reached forward and gently brushed the ring with a shaky finger. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. "It's your mother's," she whispered, examining it.
He took her wandering finger captive, his gaze fixed on her as he slid the ring into it. "It's yours," he said.
"Noah..." Swallowing, she shook her head.
"It's what all the marchionesses before you have worn. One look at this ring and the entire ballroom shall know you're my wife even before the announcement is made."
"And Catherine? Surely she shall be displeased with this decision."
"She wants you to have it."
"She does?!" Yet another loud gasp drifted from her lips. Perhaps her relationship with Catherine had become somewhat cordial. Still, she couldn't barely believe the older woman had accepted her thus.
"Indeed. She had it delivered to me by her footman last evening. It doesn't belong to her anymore, seeing as you're the marchioness."
Unable to speak, she stared at the ring for several seconds.
"I'm... Noah..." She glanced up at him, his eyes twinkling with delight. "I do not know what to say."
Stepping forward, he closed the gap between their bodies. "Say you love me," he murmured.
"I love you," she declared, truly meaning it. Indeed, it seemed like her love for him intensified with every second that ticked by.
He leaned down, his nose kissing hers. "Now you must say you'll never leave me."
"I shan't." A small smile curved her lips as she searched his eyes. "How shall I ever live without you?"
"You will never have to." His warm lips touched hers briefly, yet the effect was the same as if he had lingered; it set her heart to thumping wildly in her chest. "I shall leave you to finish getting ready, then you must join me downstairs."
"Of course."
He turned from her and exited the room. It was a few more seconds before the maids returned to finish helping her get ready. Her hair was pulled to a cluster of curls behind her head, and once the laces of her dress were securely tied, she made her way down the stairs, a smile settling on her face at the sight of Noah. He stood by the foot of the stairs, beaming up at her.
"You look lovely, my dear," he whispered, tucking her outstretched hand in the crook of his arm. Leaning in close, she drank of his scent as they made their way into the drawing room.
She kept her eyes on the floor, afraid to look into the faces of the people in the room. Yet, she felt their eyes on her—their hateful, judgmental eyes. They hated her now as they did a year ago.
"May I have your attention?" Noah called, pausing in the center of the room. Beatrice did not think there was a need to call attention to themselves, for they already had the attention of the room. "I would like to thank you all for honoring the invitation to come out here tonight." He paused, and Beatrice was nearly certain the heated gaze of the crowd had managed to bore a hole in her head. Keeping her eyes on the marbled floor, she swallowed. "In the course of one year, there have been uncensored rumors going on here in London; libelous words against me, as well as cruel words spoken against a woman whose only crime was marrying the wrong man," he began, his words momentarily confusing her. Why was he bringing up the past, she wondered. Then, he turned briefly to her, and it became clear. The fierceness and determination in his eyes told her what he was about to do, even before he did it.
"Noah..." she began, but knew it was useless trying to appeal to him.
He turned to the crowd once more. "I called you distinguished lords and ladies to pass a warning that I hope shall sink into your rather thick skulls." Releasing Beatrice, he stepped forward, his jaw set. She raised her eyes in time to see the horrified looks on the faces of their guests. "Say what you want about me, but not another ill word about Lady Atkins here—who shall from this day forth, be referred to as Beatrice Bleiz, the Marchioness of Camden—or by God, I shall hunt down the fool who began the rumors and ruin him, or her, as the case may be. I'm not a man to be trifled with. In my bid to defend my wife—my family—no lengths shall be off limits," he finished, sweeping his gaze across the room, daring them to respond.
A loud silence fell over the room, leaving Beatrice to listen to the sound of her drumming heart.
Noah squared his shoulders. "That will be all; you are all dismissed. You may exit my property honorably or I shall be forced to escort you all out rather dishonorably."
Beatrice's jaw could have touched the floor in that second, for her lips suddenly felt slack. She felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her ashen as she gawked at her mad husband. Then, turning from him, she watched with her heart in her throat as the crowd emptied out of the room.
"I didn't think they deserved to eat," Noah called, gaining her attention. She turned sharply to him. He shrugged. "I shall not reward their foul behavior with food."
Shock sealed her lips, making it impossible for her to speak. It was madness what he did; putting his relationship with the ton in jeopardy. She knew he had earned more than a few enemies, enough to ruin him financially. Yet, he appeared unbothered.
"Do not appear so shocked, my dear," he said, taking her hand in his.
Finding her tongue, she whimpered, "Noah, what have you done?"
"What I should have done a long time ago. I let them spit on you for too long, my dear; never again!" he answered fiercely.
"Oh, Noah." She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. "It shall not change their opinion about me. They shall never accept me, and I'm fine with that. What I'm not okay with is having them reject you because of me."
"Perhaps they shall never accept you, my love, but they shall respect you," he said firmly, tightening his grip on her hand. "You deserve to be respected, not only by virtue of being a human being, but also because you're the Marchioness of Camden, my wife, the woman I love."
"Oh, Noah!" she sighed, standing on tiptoes as she touched his face and held his gaze. "And you're my husband—insane, but my husband, no less."
He chuckled. "Only for you, Bea. And once our child is born, I shall be insane for him... or perhaps it's a girl? A lovely little girl with fascinating eyes like her mother." Placing a hand on her stomach, he held her gaze. "I shall be insane for you and our children," he declared, sealing his promise with a kiss.