Barely a Bride

  * * *

  And surprise him she did.

  The Duke of Avon had become the toast of London. He was welcomed and feted everywhere, and everywhere he appeared Alyssa turned up, along with her flock of young admirers.

  She curtsied to the Prince Regent and smiled proudly when Griffin received the Order of the Garter, but later that evening, she retired to her bedchamber without a word.

  They were sharing a town house, but Alyssa didn’t speak or acknowledge his existence unless guests were present and then only in the most coolly polite manner. She lavished attention on Colin and Jarrod and everyone who called at the house, but she gave nothing to her husband except a cold shoulder.

  “What the devil does she think she’s doing? Dressed like that?” Griffin glared over Jarrod’s shoulder to where Alyssa stood, dressed in a daringly low cut gown of silver tissue, and surrounded by young bucks.

  Jarrod bit back a smile. “Apparently, she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  “She didn’t become an Incomparable for nothing.” Colin gave a low admiring whistle. “Especially when only the best will do.”

  “What are you talking about?” Griffin demanded.

  Colin squinted through the throng of people crowding Lord and Lady Tressingham’s ballroom where Griffin’s in-laws were hosting a huge ball in his honor. “Isn’t that His Grace, the Duke of Sussex, asking your wife to dance?”

  “Over my dead body!” Griffin exclaimed, grabbing his cane.

  The other two Free Fellows watched in amused fascination as Griffin limped across the ballroom floor.