Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 13

  Her heart sped up at the raspy sound of his voice. She turned to him. Everything in her screamed to slide closer, to feel the warmth from his body that already reached her, despite the space separating them. Before she could respond to her longing, he closed the distance by taking her hand and drawing her near. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  Taking the glass from her hand, he placed it on the floor in front of them, then slid his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs lazily caressed her skin as he slowly, oh so slowly, tilted her head back, then bent his head and took her lips in a gentle, tantalizing kiss.

  Her world exploded. Yes. This was what she’d wanted all day. She wrapped her arms firmly around his waist, moving her body closer so her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Devon fisted her hair in his hand and tugged her head back, kissing her neck, her jaw, the sensitive skin behind her ear. Her heart pounded as he placed his hands under her arms and lifted her onto his lap. The top of his banyan fell open, and she ducked her head to run her cheek over the dark curls on his chest.

  She inhaled deeply of the scent of bay rum, brandy, and Devon. Empowered by his movements, she slid her hands under the banyan, placing her palms on his shoulders. Warm, hard flesh. His fingers played with the hem of her nightgown, slowly easing it up her leg.

  The sound of their breathing filled the air. The chill she’d felt before had long since vanished. Tentatively, she eased her tongue out and licked his flat dark nipple.

  He sucked in air between his teeth, and she moved her bottom against him, pressing in until she felt the evidence of his desire.

  “Take me to bed, Devon.” The words were out before she thought them.

  As slowly as he’d descended, he now raised his head, searching her face, confusion and something else she could not identify in his eyes. He eased back, setting his hands on her shoulders. Not sure why, she suddenly felt embarrassed, as if she’d done something wrong. Her hands dropped from around his waist to her lap.

  “I…” He set her on her feet and stood. He tried to speak, but no words came out as he ran his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, he turned on his heel, strode to the door, and wrenched it open. “Good night.”

  The click of the door was like a wound to her heart.

  What had just happened?

  What had happened was he still did not want her, not the way she wanted him. His desire was quite visible to her, but he still held that a wife was not to be ravished. She was not to enjoy her husband’s attentions. She was far too sensitive and delicate for such. That privilege belonged to a mistress, even though she had shown him otherwise.

  Stubborn man.

  Dejected and weary, she rose from the settee and pulled the book out from under her mattress. She sat on the floor near the fireplace, a place no proper lady would ever sit, listlessly flipping through the pages by firelight. Slamming the book shut, she gripped the book and banged it on the floor in vexation. She would not give up. Unless she convinced her husband he could have all the passion he wanted right here in his own home, she would have no chance of winning his love.

  A man in love with his wife did not take up with mistresses.

  This was war. She might have lost a battle, but she fully intended to be the victor in the end.

  …

  Devon tightened the belt on his banyan and wandered over to the window to gaze out at the darkness. Much like he felt. Dark. Confused. Frustrated.

  How he had wanted to throw Eugenia down on the bed and shower her with all the delights of true carnal knowledge between a man and a woman. Even if he could get beyond the fact that she was his wife, and not some light-skirt, the thought of her lying in the arms of another man had stopped him cold.

  His Eugenia!

  Despite his restlessness, he had no desire to traipse downstairs to fetch another bottle of brandy to replace the one he’d left in her room. A slight thump coming from the other side of the door caught his attention. Most likely he’d left her as frustrated as he felt right now. But proper wives weren’t supposed to be frustrated, because they were not susceptible to passion.

  Things had certainly started out that way. Eugenia had come to him a virgin, which was precisely what he’d expected. She had accepted his visits to her bed with the same amount of ladylike decorum he’d also anticipated. She’d been perfect in every other way, as well. A gracious hostess, a competent manager of all things household, an intelligent conversationalist, and a woman who expected, and received, a great deal of respect from the staff, friends, and members of the ton.

  It wasn’t until the day he’d caught her racing down Bond Street and practically running into him that he’d begun to notice a change. Since she’d been an innocent when they’d married, the only conclusion he could draw from the change in her demeanor and dress was that she had taken a lover who was instructing her in the things only he, as her husband, should be teaching.

  Except he had never instructed her in any way because he’d been raised to believe proper ladies were not interested in the entire process, and were more than happy to leave that part of a man’s life to courtesans. Marriage was a business arrangement for the sole purpose of producing heirs, making new, and solidifying old, connections. The conversations he’d had at his clubs had only reinforced that belief. True, there were some gentlemen who had given up their mistresses when they’d married, but they were few, and usually thought of as besotted fools.

  Which was precisely why he’d kept up the appearance of having a mistress when he’d actually been unable to touch another woman once he’d said his vows.

  What a mess this had turned into.

  …

  The next afternoon Devon arrived home after meeting with members of Parliament. Once again, he had purposely taken breakfast before he knew Eugenia would arise. That was another change. She’d always had a tray in her room in the mornings and had never emerged from her room until early afternoon. Now she appeared at the breakfast table every morning.

  Feeling a bit guilty at abandoning her, he had paused on his way out to convey to Bellows that he would be away from the house for most of the day and to please tell her ladyship he would see her at dinner. Even that left him feeling guilty. He should have penned her a note, at least.

  They were to attend the Pembroke ball that evening, and he’d decided to forego his usual trip to the card room after his dance with Eugenia. He would remain in the ballroom and take note of who approached her, and her reactions. Did he feel like a bloody, jealous fool?

  Absolutely.

  “Is Lady Devon in her sitting room?” Devon handed his hat and gloves to Bellows.

  “No, my lord. Lady Devon and Sally went for a walk in the park this afternoon.”

  He frowned. Strange, that. He’d never known Eugenia to walk in the park. Like all members of the Quality, she took a ride during the fashionable hour now and then, but to walk?

  “How long ago did she leave?”

  Bellows considered for a moment. “Perhaps two hours.”

  Devon snatched the hat and gloves out of the butler’s hands, turned on his heel, and headed back outside. He would have a much better chance of finding her if he rode, so back he went to the mews to get a fresh horse.

  The fashionable hour was in full swing in Hyde Park. Carriages and horses clogged the lane wandering the Serpentine. The warm spring air had brought out a great deal of riders and walkers. None of them seemed to notice the beautiful flowers so well-tended by gardeners, or the pale sun so seldom seen in London. As usual, they were there to see and be seen.

  Visitors called to one another, the fresh-faced young ladies casting both shy and flirty glances at the gentlemen, the marriage-minded mamas sizing up each man as to title and wealth. Devon quickly scanned the area, then rode slowly with the traffic, stopping to chat occasionally, but mostly studying the crowd, looking among the strollers for his wife.

  Who, after an hour of searching, was not to be found in the park. />
  He returned home, assuming—nay, hoping—she had returned and he had merely missed her.

  “No, my lord. Lady Devon has not yet arrived.” Bellows answered Devon’s query as he once again handed over his hat and gloves.

  “Very well. I will be in the library. Please ask her ladyship to join me when she returns.”

  He poured a brandy and paced. Where was she? With her lover, no doubt. His stomach muscles tightened, and he took a large swallow of the liquor.

  He should confront her. No. Even though he believed the only explanation for her behavior was the one that had his gut tensing, that theory still went against everything he knew and believed of his wife. If he was wrong in his assumption, she would probably swoon at his accusations, and quite possibly never recover.

  He paced. Checked his timepiece. Swallowed more brandy. Paced again.

  The sound of Eugenia’s voice drew him from his musings. He quickly moved behind the desk, pulled out a ledger, and picked up a pen.

  “You wished to see me, my lord?” Eugenia entered the room.

  Devon attempted to appear casual as he took in every inch of her appearance. Nothing seemed amiss. Her hair was not disheveled, her dress not wrinkled. But something on her face, in her crystal blue eyes, put him on alert.

  She’s hiding something.

  “Yes, my dear. How was your walk in the park?”

  She cast her eyes down. She flushed—fidgeted. “Fine. It is a lovely day.”

  “Indeed.” He waved toward the chair in front of his desk. “Tell me about your walk.” He leaned back in his chair, viewing her over his steepled fingers. “Whom did you see?”

  Eugenia sat and fiddled with her gown. Very unlike his wife. She took a deep breath and smiled. “Oh, you know. All the usual people.” She flushed even redder.

  The poor woman is a terrible liar.

  His heart dropped to his feet. Then anger coursed through him. Who was this wastrel who had seduced his wife? His innocent, very proper wife. For surely it would never be in Eugenia’s character to take a lover without a great deal of coercion.

  He would find this scoundrel and beat him to a pulp. Dogs, he needed dogs.

  …

  Eugenia chewed her lip. She’d never been good at lying, even as a young girl when caught with a biscuit clutched behind her back before dinner. It almost seemed as though Devon knew she was lying, too. He was supposed to have been out of the house for the entire day.

  All she wanted to do right now was remove herself from his piercing scrutiny. “If that is all, my lord, I would like to rest a bit before dinner and the ball.”

  He continued to stare for a moment, and then dipped his head. “Of course, my dear. Enjoy your respite.”

  Casting him what she hoped was a genuine smile, she rose and took her time leaving the room. She did not want to raise any more questions by hurrying away. She moved with her usual pace down the corridor, nodded at Bellows, then made her way upstairs to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, blowing out a breath.

  She rang for Sally to help her out of her dress and stays so she could take a proper rest. Even though Devon had returned early and caught her arriving home, he had no way of knowing where she and Sally had actually gone.

  If anyone in the ton knew where she’d gone and what she’d done, she would be ruined. Ladies did not visit the modiste of courtesans. Not that demimondes had separate modistes from ladies, but the kind of clothier she’d just visited would never be visited by true, proper ladies.

  Eugenia blushed just thinking about the scandalous undergarments and nightgowns she had commissioned Mlle. Bissette to make for her. Although she’d wanted something other than her normal nightwear and undergarments, now that she’d seen the drawings of what the modiste would sew for her, she wondered if she would ever have the nerve to wear them.

  She chastised herself for her pusillanimity. Something had to be done. Mrs. Forestor had been dead for a few weeks now, and certainly Devon would be making arrangements for another mistress. She had to secure his attention and love before he engaged another paramour.

  “Yes, my lady.” Sally entered the room, several towels over her arm. “Are you ready for your bath?”

  “No. I just need you to help me out of my dress, stays, and petticoats so I may take a nap. I find naughty subterfuge a bit tiring.”

  “Oh, my lady. I was indeed surprised at the fashion plates Mlle. Bissette showed us.” The girl rapidly waved her hand in front of her face. “When my friend told me about Mlle. Bissette’s business, I never expected to see the likes of what we viewed today.”

  Eugenia placed her hands on her hips as Sally unbuttoned her gown. “I am just grateful your friend was willing to share the information with you. I cannot imagine how I would have located such a person if you hadn’t found her for me. I could never go to my regular modiste with such a request. I would be mortified.”

  As she spoke, Sally quickly and efficiently removed Eugenia’s gown and stays. “My lady, Bellows told me when his lordship returned early and found you had gone to the park, he went in search of you.”

  Eugenia sucked in a breath and turned. “No wonder he questioned me.”

  “Yes, my lady. It was a good thing we decided to take a hackney. I cannot imagine how it would have gone for you if his lordship questioned his driver as to where he had taken you.”

  Stealing books, secret visits to scandalous modistes, shockingly low necklines. Whatever had happened to her plain and simple life? All she really wanted was to secure her husband’s love and retire to the country to raise their children.

  She would happily live the rest of her life away from Society if she had the love she never thought to have, but which had become almost an obsession. “I will need to rest to settle my nerves, Sally. I am not cut out for these types of machinations, I am afraid.”

  The young maid pulled down the counterpane and covered Eugenia before drawing the bed curtains and window drapes. “I will wake you in two hours for your bath.”

  “Thank you” As the door softly clicked closed, she thought about the ball that evening. She had another gown that was different from the gowns she’d worn all her life. Would Devon notice? Would it keep him from wandering to the card room once they’d had their obligatory one dance?

  That was the last thing Eugenia thought before she drifted off into a sound sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Sometimes uncovering a secret is necessary for one’s plans.”

  Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 92

  Devon placed his hand on Eugenia’s lower back and escorted her into the Pembroke ballroom. Once again she wore a gown he’d not seen before. He realized ladies didn’t like to wear the same gowns over and over, lest they overhear snide comments from behind colorful fans. He never had a problem paying for Eugenia’s gowns, and as his marchioness she deserved to be turned out well.

  Although he wanted to object to the gown, truth be known, the neckline was no lower than any other lady present, except for the debutantes. But every other lady present was not his wife.

  He led her to a group of ladies who were beckoning to her with their fans. “Eugenia, I simply love that gown.” Lady Fletcher took both of Eugenia’s hands and held them to the side, admiring her.

  “Thank you.” Eugenia blushed, which told him she was not completely comfortable.

  Miss Stanhope regarded her over her fan. “A bit daring for you, is it not?”

  Before Eugenia could respond, their group was increased by four men. Devon studied each one as he walked up, glancing back and forth between the gentleman and his wife. No reaction from Eugenia that could point to one of them being her lover.

  Before he realized what had happened, the men’s names were scrawled on the little card dangling from her wrist and Mr. Milestone was leading her onto the dance floor. He felt like a ninny standing there with all the ladies, so he bowed over Miss Stanhope’s hand and requested a dance.
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  The quadrille was long and tedious. Especially with Miss Stanhope chattering the entire time. No matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his glance continually shifted to Eugenia, who seemed to be having much more fun than he. Why the devil was she throwing her head back that way and laughing, showing all that beautiful skin? Was Milestone all that humorous? He threw the man an irritated glance, but he doubted Milestone noticed.

  When the dance ended, he’d have a word with yet another man to remind him where Eugenia’s face was located, because his eyes seemed to have a hard time moving up from her bosom. The fleeting thought that he might be the alleged lover caused him to stumble, garnering a surprised look from Miss Stanhope.

  He shook his head at the idea. Eugenia was much too sophisticated for Milestone, who was known as an addlepated arse. More to the point, the mysterious Lord R could not be him. The infernal dance ended and, with a relieved sigh, he led Miss Stanhope back to the other ladies and waited for Eugenia to return.

  She was chatting away with Milestone, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. That was how he’d remembered her the one time they’d truly made love. How he had longed for a repeat, but still confused about the proper way to treat her, he’d kept from her bed. Also, there was the concern about her suspected liaison.

  He took her elbow as she joined the group. Milestone hied off, most likely to find his next partner to ogle. He would speak with the man the next time he saw him at his club. “My dear, I would like to add my name to your card for the next waltz.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Eugenia fumbled with the card until she’d turned it upright. He wrote his name, noting a cotillion was next, followed by the waltz.

  Resigned to his fate, he turned to Lady Fletcher and asked for a dance. At least she did not find it necessary to chat away the entire time they danced. She was graceful and charming. The dance passed quickly, and soon he held Eugenia in his arms as they glided across the floor.

  He took in her flushed cheeks and the loosened curls dangling near her temple. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, my dear.” He pulled her a bit closer to avoid another couple. The feel of her body against his, improper though it was, stirred his loins, so he kept her close. He wanted to whisk her away from the ball and hurry her home, then up to his bedchamber. Instead he smiled at her, ever the proper gentleman.