The Seduction of His Wife

by Tiffany Clare

  “I’ve known you for eight years, and you’ve never mentioned her.”

  “We’ve been married for more years than you’ve known me.”

  “Long time to stay away from a wife.” Dante rubbed at his jaw. “Is she a veritable shrew?”

  “More like a child I had nothing in common with.” He shook his head, not wishing to dissect his marriage with anyone.

  “Definitely not a child anymore.” Dante chuckled and pushed his foot off the carriage to follow him into the house. “I hope she’s stocked something stronger than tea in the study. It’s been a long day.”

  Richard also hoped there was something stronger than tea to drink. He’d need something fortifying before facing his wife again.

  Chapter 6

  Why did you agree to marry me? For the life of me, I can make no sense of it.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Emma put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. That hadn’t been as horrible as she had thought. When Brown had come out to say there was a nondescript carriage coming over the river, one without an emblem emblazoned on the side to identify the person within, she’d known without a doubt it was her husband.

  She had watched from the window while the staff had lined up. Then Richard had stepped from the carriage, squinting at the sun before donning his hat. Directly behind him was another man. His shoulders were twice the width of her husband’s, his height just as great. He was darker-skinned, and not in the sense that he spent a lot of time in the sun. She would guess him to be of Spanish or Italian decent.

  She’d only given the other man a once-over. Her attention had been drawn immediately to Richard. What a formidable man he was. A foreign desire for something she didn’t understand had unfurled in her lower stomach at the sight of him standing in the drive with a smug grin lighting his expression. Then she remembered how he’d treated her in London and squashed the unwelcome feelings.

  He’d not get the better of her in her own domain.

  She tipped her head back, the rim of her hat folded into her neck as she rested her head against the wall. How would she deal with all these conflicting feelings for a man she hardly knew? She had this desire to seek him out, find out why he’d come home. She wanted to learn everything she could of the man who had avoided her for so many years. On the other hand, she wanted to rage and scream at him for his thoughtlessness. Tell him he couldn’t walk back into her life and demand whatever he pleased of her.

  Not now. Not when everything with Waverly rested so uneasily. She’d also have to be more careful about her paintings with Richard home. He could never know the true nature of her art. She’d have to sneak around in the middle of the night, or early mornings, to paint her more erotic scenes.

  Everything could be ruined by Richard’s return.

  Footsteps approached the front door. She made a quick decision to avoid Richard for the remainder of the afternoon and made her way out to the gardens, where her sisters sat in the shade of a great oak. On seeing her expression, they came to their feet. Grace had taken her hat off and swung it back and forth by the pink satin ribbon. Abby twirled a plucked daisy between her fingers.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” asked Abby.

  She nodded, looking at Abby. “Come, we must find you new accommodations. Someone travels with him and that gentleman will reside in the room I assigned you.”

  “Why ever would you do such a thing? I love that room. It overlooks the mazes.”

  Because she hadn’t thought to speak up on her sister’s behalf. Instead she had held her tongue. She’d do as her husband pleased for the time being. Surely he wouldn’t remain long.

  “I had no choice in the matter,” she said.

  “You can stay with me,” Grace chimed in.

  “Absolutely not. We’ll be bickering and ready to tear out each other’s hair after a day.” Abby turned back to Emma. “And I suppose I can’t spend the night with you. Not now that your husband is here.”

  “No, you can’t. I hardly believe this is happening.” She shook her head and twisted her fingers together. “While he’s in the study, we should oversee the room changes.”

  Abby leaned down to pick up her book. “I do hope he lets us stay on. I was looking forward to spending the summer with just the three of us.”

  “I see no reason for him to say otherwise.”

  Emma hoped he wouldn’t send her sisters away. She didn’t think she could stay in this house with him alone for company. She needed the support of her sisters. They’d help distract Richard if Waverly decided to make another appearance. It felt like her control over her world was tumbling down around her.

  “Besides,” Grace said, “I’m sure he’ll let us spend at least a few weeks here. If he does ask us to leave, there is no reason for you not to join me at Winston Estate, Abby.”

  “That wouldn’t be the three of us.” Abby sighed.

  They walked with their arms linked back up to the house. The study and adjoining library overlooked the gardens. Her husband stood in the window, watching them amble up the steps as the other man talked animatedly with his hands.

  Richard’s gaze was solely focused on her as she made her way up the path. That small something in her lower belly turned into a greater feeling. Goodness, she’d never had her wits about her when that man was around. His presence had always unsettled her.

  Tearing her gaze away from Richard’s, she headed indoors. How strange to have him here after so many years. How strange to still want something more from him even after he’d abandoned her without a care.

  She could not forget the reason he was here, though. He thought her an unfaithful wife. To accuse her of something so disgraceful set her teeth on edge.

  * * *

  It was safe to say his wife was not happy to see him.

  “Two sisters. You didn’t tell me there were so many staying here. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to come.”

  “I didn’t realize they were staying on.”

  Dante put his shoulder to the wall. “One of the sisters was sitting in the carriage outside of Madam Purforry’s.”

  That was an interesting fact. The madam hadn’t been able to enlighten him on who his wife was set to meet. If Emma had been there for an assignation, why would one of the sisters wait for her outside?

  “No sense in worrying about their presence since we can’t change it. It’s unlikely anyone will come here looking for me. This is as safe a place as any. I’m sure your hide will be in as much danger as mine as the weeks unfold and the business is taken apart and sold off.”

  “No doubt. But you should do both of us a favor and send the other women away.”

  “My wife would not welcome the idea, and may decide to leave with them. I’ll not tolerate that.” This newfound possessiveness was rearing its ugly head when he least expected it.

  “It’ll be safer for her if she goes elsewhere. Safer for the three of them.”

  Walking over to the sideboard, Richard poured out two fingers of whiskey for them both. “I can look out for the welfare of my wife.” The idea of sending Emma away irritated him. He wanted her close. “We both know this will settle down in a few weeks. A month at most. People will be after the next man who deals in opium and altogether forget our involvement.”

  Sitting behind the desk, he set his glass down and riffled through the drawers. There were stacks of old letters—business correspondence of his late father, he assumed. When Dante made to sit across from him, he stopped shuffling through the papers and looked up.

  “Aren’t you going to explore the house? There are more entrances and passageways here than I could name offhand. You may want to learn your way around.”

  “While we agreed that I’m better trained to handle any mercenaries, that does not make me your servant.”

  “I’ll not spend my every waking moment in your company. I’ve had enough of it this week.”

  Dante let loose a deep chuckle. “Then I will find my way to my own
room.”

  He stood slowly, glancing over to the glass-paned doors that led outdoors and the paneled wall with a brass latch that opened into the library, and then walked toward the entry they’d come through.

  The only thing Richard wanted right now was some peace and quiet. A few hours to himself. They were safe enough. “If you follow the women’s twittering, you should find your room without issue.”

  Dante inclined his head, then left.

  Richard knew Dante was right. He should send the sisters away. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell his wife to do so. She probably needed their comfort now that he’d reappeared.

  He never expected her to welcome him with open arms. Not after his long absence. That would have to change. It wasn’t as though he was going anywhere anytime soon. He’d have to learn to behave around her or she would never warm toward him.

  The papers in his hand were twined together in tidy two-inch stacks with his father’s bold handwriting on them. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were letters written to his father’s solicitor. There was a smaller stack of unaddressed lavender envelopes. His wife’s, in all likelihood, and he’d not invade her privacy, though he wondered why they were in here with his father’s things. He placed the feminine envelopes in the drawer and released the string holding his father’s correspondence together.

  He’d not remain idle while in Bakewell. He could sort through his father’s effects and settle into his role as earl. How strange it felt to be leaving his old life behind. Did things inevitably change after a close dance with death? Or was this path of taking the straight and easy bound to happen as one aged?

  * * *

  Dante Lioni did exactly as Asbury suggested. He followed the voices of the women once he’d familiarized himself with the layout of the house. He hadn’t expected a house quite so large as this one. It was as big as—if not slightly larger than—his estate just outside Milan. It took him a good twenty minutes to find the wing they would be taking chambers in.

  Three sisters.

  Asbury had a pretty wife; her hair was fair, as was one of the others, only hers held a slight tinge of red to it and she was smaller, shorter, thinner, and possibly younger than the other two. The third sister was darker in coloring, her hair a rich brown and lush with loose curls.

  He wondered which one was the widow. He’d bet his life on the plump brunette.

  A woman that pretty, that soft and feminine, couldn’t stay out of the marriage market long. She was more desirable than the other two. Her breasts strained against the striped material wrapped about her. A button had loosened, third one down from her elegant neck. He couldn’t see anything beneath but more white fabric. Her generous hips could not be hidden beneath all those frills and pleats on her skirts.

  She stopped in the double doorway and told the maid in a soft voice what to do with the effects she held. When the maid took them, she rubbed her hand over the back of her neck. He scrubbed his hand over his hair-roughened jaw. He needed to shave; he must look frightening, like a half savage to a woman of her standing.

  When the maid left to do her bidding, the brunette raised her eyes and stared directly at him. He tried to smile so he didn’t seem as threatening, but for a man his size that was nearly impossible.

  She didn’t smile at him. Just returned his stare, dropped the hand that had been massaging the back of her neck, and took a small step back so she leaned against the door frame. She sucked in her lower lip. Her gaze never strayed from his eyes.

  He should introduce himself. It was on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t make it farther when she gave him an interested once-over from crotch to shoulder and then met his eyes again.

  Yes, this one was certainly the widow. Hopefully of the lusty variety. He grinned and watched her sea-green eyes go wide. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to look him over so thoroughly and pointedly. Now he wished she’d do it again, so she could see his definite interest below the waist.

  It wasn’t meant to be.

  They were interrupted in the next moment. The strawberry-blonde woman came out of the room, calling to her sister, effectively breaking his connection to the brunette. The dark beauty was gone in the next moment.

  A widow would make a good companion for the next few weeks in the country. Perhaps it was time to try some fine English stock. Better yet, he should start his hunt for a wife, since he was settling out of trade from the East and into a quieter life. A much less dangerous life. A life more suited to settling down with a family. The widow might not want anything with strings attached, so he’d play whatever game she was willing to give him.

  Maybe having the sisters stay on wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Though he’d have to be careful to keep his plans to seduce Richard’s sister-in-law to himself. He wasn’t sure what his friend would think. But it would be the pretty brunette’s choice as to how things unfolded from here on out.

  * * *

  Stacking the letters he’d gone through in the middle of the desk, Richard stood from the chair and stretched his back, careful not to put any strain on the stitches at his side. Damn thing was healing too slowly for his liking.

  It was time he went up and talked to his wife. She needed to know what his objectives were. What he expected of her. He desired her and he had no intentions of denying it. He would convince her that that desire could be mutually beneficial.

  As he walked through the house, he noticed it hadn’t changed much. The pictures of distant relatives were all lined up in the same spot they’d always been while he was growing up. He wondered if she had changed anything in the old estate.

  Rounding the stairs to the master bedchambers, he could hear the low voices of Emma and her sisters; not what they said, but it seemed to be a heated dispute.

  He’d not eavesdrop like some old biddy. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited for them to take notice of him. Abby saw him first since she faced the door. She tugged at Grace’s belled sleeve, silencing her.

  All three women stood on taking notice of him.

  He’d not make them guess why he was here. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to Emma privately before supper.”

  They made their curtsies, gave one last look toward Emma, and left the room. Once they walked past him, he stepped inside the sitting room of her apartment and shut the door—not all the way, just enough to give them a few moments of solitude.

  It was a small room, a settee and one chair situated around the fireplace. The furniture had been updated in this room since he last set foot in it, when his mother was alive. There was a desk off to the right corner painted in a pale yellow, and heavy green-and-gold drapery outlining a wall of windows. The room was airy and light in decor. A door led off to her bedchamber on the left, and a dressing room on the right.

  When his gaze roamed back toward her, she lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “Is there something you wished to tell me that couldn’t wait till later?”

  “I wanted a moment alone with you.” Was that so much to ask for?

  She motioned to the chair across from where she stood. “Please. Won’t you take a seat?”

  He was afraid that if he sat, he might not be able to get back up now that a tingling sensation had started over his ribs.

  He waved off the offer. “I’ll be but a moment.”

  She inclined her head and made no move to sit, either.

  Her hair was tied in a loose bun at the back of her head; a few strands had worked free of the knot and framed her face becomingly. She had more freckles than he’d originally thought, indicating she was an outdoorswoman. There was so much he didn’t know about his wife. So much, he realized, he’d like to discover.

  “What is it you wish to say?” Her question snapped him out of his observations.

  “I plan to stay on for at least a month.”

  She nodded, seeming neither satisfied nor unsatisfied by his admission.

  “Will you leave again after a month?”
<
br />   “My business plans have been ever changing over the past year. One can never be sure what tomorrow will demand of me.”

  Her fingers twisted about a locket dangling over her breast. “Your father always said you’d eventually come home.”

  The old man had been right: There was no escaping his duty as the Earl of Asbury. He could travel to the farthest reaches of civilization, but he’d always come back to his roots. He’d never had an easy relationship with his father, and he certainly didn’t want to think about him now.

  “There are matters aside from my father that we must discuss. Ones I could not mention in the company of others.”

  She seemed to stand straighter, firmer. Ah, she must understand what he wanted of her.

  “You’ll have to break off any relationships you’re in. If I see another man here, it will not make for a pleasant stay for either of us. Also, I expect to resume my marital duties.”

  She visibly swallowed, then turned her head away from him. Her hands clenched the wooden inlay on the top edge of the settee.

  “Do you think you can demand this of me on your arrival?” she asked quietly.

  “I do. I’m your husband.” And he’d be damned if she sought the arms of another now that he was home. “I’ll resume my marital rights starting tonight.”

  Blotches of red covered her neck and cheeks. His wife embarrassed easily. Interesting, considering he’d caught her in a bawds’ den only days ago.

  “I’m to be given no time to adjust to your presence in this household?”

  There wasn’t time. He could be dead tomorrow if someone else were to strike out at him. “I think you’ve had enough time playing the countess without all that that truly entails.”

  “I retire early.” She avoided his eyes. Her gaze darted from wall to window, object to object.

  “Then so shall I.” The golden fringe of her lashes lowered, making it impossible to read the emotions flitting in the green depths of her eyes. He gave her a nod, not that she took notice. “I will see you in an hour for dinner.”