Colin suddenly downed his brandy in two swallows, then abruptly stood, walked around his desk, and began to pace the carpet in front of the pianoforte.
“No,” he maintained with false humor, “I don’t think either of you have suffered like I have.”
Will took a sip from his snifter. “What really is the problem?”
Colin stopped in his stride, studying the floor. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Oh, my God,” Sam murmured.
His head jerked up. “What?”
“You’re in need of a mistress already?”
Startled by the question, he actually laughed. “Are you out of your mind? Nothing would be more complicated than that. Especially before Charlotte and I—”
Dead silence reigned supreme for a moment. Then, with genuine concern, Will murmured, “The problem is Charlotte?”
Colin closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and swallowed his pride. “The problem is that I might have…made a mistake with her.”
“A mistake?” the two other men repeated in unison.
God, they were getting nowhere. Dropping his voice to avoid rumors by eavesdropping servants, he stood erect, his hands clasped behind him, and said, “She’s angry at me because she didn’t—she didn’t care for the bedding on our wedding night.”
Nothing had ever stunned his two friends more, of that he was certain. They gaped at him, both with furrowed brows, Sam gently shaking his head as if his statement of ineptitude in bed throughly confused the man.
He supposed the whole thing was rather funny coming from him, as he had such a marred, or rather, a deliciously sinful reputation in society regarding his sexual prowess and methods of seduction. If his bedroom troubles were known, he’d be ruined in a manner he didn’t want to contemplate. Not that it would matter now.
Suddenly, he started chuckling, which seemed to bring the others out of their stupor. Then they were all laughing, not at his expense, but because they, as the marvelous friends they’d always been, completely understood what an oddity this had to be for him.
“Jesus,” Sam said, “you’re not joking, are you?”
Good humor fading, he shook his head in a form of self-disgust. “I’m afraid not. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
They all became quiet again after his breath of honesty, the house silent around them, the ladies no doubt continuing to discuss the fashions of the day, or Olivia’s impending birth, or just everyday gossip, whatever that might be. And here he was in the middle of his study, tired and under stress from weeks of pent-up desire, requesting help from his closest friends regarding the seduction of his wife. He’d never experienced a more peculiar moment in his life.
“Well,” Will said after a loud exhale, moving away from the fireplace to take a seat in the second wing chair, making himself comfortable as he stretched his legs out and crossed an ankle over the other.
“Well, indeed,” he repeated. His body now charged, he began to pace in front of the pianoforte.
“Sit down, Colin, you’re making me nervous,” Sam directed with a wave of his hand.
Immediately, he dropped his body onto the padded piano bench, leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, his palms clasped together in front of him. He stared at the floor, feeling an uncomfortable flush creeping up his neck. How the hell was he supposed to discuss such a thing?
Will cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning. You are asking us for advice, are you not?”
Colin smirked and glanced up without raising his head. “I certainly wouldn’t ask anyone else.”
Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Without…uh…too much detail, what exactly went wrong?”
He briefly closed his eyes, his memory of the night as fresh in his mind as if it had happened only an hour ago. He still recalled the wave of intense desire that raced through him when he saw her nude for the first time, wrapped seductively in a bit of lace and satin that hid nothing. He supposed he should start there.
“Everything was fine at the wedding, and the dinner following,” he began quietly, his gaze darting from one to the other. “But as she prepared herself for the night, I gave her a specially made gift that I more or less coerced her into wearing for me. When she came to me, she was…amazing. Beautiful. But the following morning she was very angry and told me she never wanted to be bedded again.” At least by me, he thought, though he kept that to himself.
For seconds nobody offered a comment, or even moved. Then Sam rubbed his jaw with his fingers, his expression growing contemplative. “Explain the gift.”
He swallowed. “It was…something like a corset, made of red satin and black lace, with matching shoes.”
Will chuckled again. “What in God’s name were you thinking, my friend?”
“He wasn’t,” Sam answered for him, stifling his own laugh with a palm down his face.
Colin felt his gut wrench. “I admit it was a forward thing to do, maybe even the wrong thing to do. But I had just been married to Lottie English.”
“No,” Sam countered, “you had just been married to the Lady Charlotte Hughes.”
Irritated, Colin clutched his hands together. “Yes, but Charlotte is Lottie.”
“No, she’s not. The reserved lady we had dinner with this evening is lovely in her own right, but she’s definitely not the same lush woman I saw at the opera,” Sam chided, now sounding just as annoyed. “Lottie is a fantasy for every man; Charlotte is yours, a noblewoman who went to you, her husband, a virgin on your wedding night.”
He grimaced. “You don’t understand. I know they’re different personas, but you can’t assume they’re different personalities. I married the most sensual, exciting woman—”
“When she’s on the stage,” Will interjected. “Acting.”
“Which you no doubt made her feel with such a gift—like an actress, there to perform for you on your wedding night,” Sam said, his voice colored with amusement and a trace of disgust. “No wonder she wants nothing to do with you.” After a lingering pause, he added softly, “Consider this Colin: Do you really want her to act for you in bed? Because that’s probably what she thinks.”
His head shot up as those intently spoken words struck him hard. Both men stared at him dubiously, as if he might actually admit he desired Charlotte for just that purpose. In a sudden flood of understanding, her words came back to haunt him: …you made me wear an absurd costume and ridiculous shoes, then called me by my stage name…You don’t want me. You want the infamous, sensual Lottie English…
Slowly, clarity washing over him, Colin sat upright, inhaling a long, deep breath as he lowered his gaze to the plush rug at his feet.
Such a notion had never occurred to him until just this moment. Yes, obvious to everyone, he’d absolutely wanted the fantasy that had enticed him for three years, just as they all—including Charlotte—knew it was the reason he’d married the woman in the first place. That was never in doubt. But he never wanted or expected her to act with him, to play a part she didn’t feel. An act in bed would be false lovemaking, and false lovemaking required nothing from the heart. In the end, with no heart, there would be no real intimacy, and certainly no joy. It took the full impact of that thought to realize just how much he had wronged his wife.
“No, of course that’s not what I want,” he replied at last, leaning back against the unprotected keyboard that clanged ugly notes of disharmony. Seconds later, he glanced up and murmured, “I was stupid.”
“Perhaps not stupid, but definitely unthinking,” Sam corrected. “The corset had to have shocked her.”
Or scared her.
“And she probably didn’t understand at all what you wanted from her,” Will piped in.
She didn’t have a chance.
“So what do you suggest I do now?” he mumbled, feeling utterly deflated.
Will snorted. “Why don’t you seduce her? It’s what you should have done in the first place.”
He regretted saying that almost at once. He was the one among them who had never had trouble seducing a woman in his life, the one who could charm them all, and he knew absolutely that they were thinking the same thing.
A long and uncomfortable silence ensued, an awkward measure Colin was certain he would never forget should he live a hundred years. He’d never done anything more difficult—admit to his friends that his new wife, attraction for him aside, didn’t want him as a man. The humiliation he felt at that moment was palpable.
Finally, Sam expelled a slow breath and said frankly, “The problem is yours, of course. But my suggestion would be to use her innocence to your advantage. Don’t expect her to be experienced, Colin, because she obviously isn’t. You’ve made one mistake, but she’s still your wife, and still yours to bed. Start again from the beginning. Expect her to know nothing and show her.”
“When she’s not the least interested?” he countered caustically.
“You’re not thinking this through,” Will added, his voice low and decisive. “There’s no doubt that the lady admires you and feels an attraction. Use that to your advantage as well. Give her what she desires, not what she expects. Seduce her when she doesn’t see it coming. And for God’s sake, move slowly.”
Slowly. He was ready to crawl out of his skin with sexual need, his wife in the next room night after night, but these were surely words of wisdom where women were concerned. Will and Sam, both already married, knew this. His true problem, as he saw it, was that he’d never really had to work at seducing a woman before. Women either wanted him or they didn’t, and in his experience, his charm rarely failed. That Charlotte would be his first real challenge proved to be the ultimate irony. He’d have to be more charming than she was clever if a slow seduction were to succeed, but if it did, the rewards would be grand.
Subdued, one problem considered, Colin stood again and moved to the window behind his desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his shoulder against the pane, seeing nothing as the sky had gone black and silence prevailed beyond—no moon, no wind, rain, or even stars. Just stillness. The calm before the storm.
“There’s something else,” he said quietly. Turning to face them once more, he disclosed, “She was nearly killed at the theater three weeks ago.”
“What?”
That from Will who sat forward in earnest. Sam just remained motionless in his chair, his expression contemplative.
Colin pulled out the rocker behind his desk and sat heavily, leaning back as far as he could and folding his hands in his lap. “A beam from the rafters fell while she stood alone on the stage, missing her head by inches only because I called out to her in time for her to move. She more or less brushed the incident aside, insisting it was a simple accident. But I made some discreet inquiries of my own and this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to her at that theater. She’s either lying to herself, or she’s lying to me for reasons unknown. Either way, I’m starting to think she’s in trouble.”
No one said a word for a minute or two as they absorbed his rather disturbing disclosure. Finally, Sam asked, “Do you think these…mishaps have anything to do with you?”
He shrugged. “That’s a question I can’t answer. I can’t get close enough to her to find out.”
“Why ever not?” Will asked. “Regardless of her lack of interest in the bedroom, she’s still your wife.”
Lack of interest in the bedroom. Hearing that again made him want to hit something. Instead, he smiled wryly and pushed himself up from his rocker. “Need a refill, gentlemen? I do.”
Sam shook his head; Will held out his snifter for him to take as he walked by. He strode quickly to the sideboard and poured the amber liquid for both of them, giving himself more than he should, but deciding he didn’t give a damn if he woke with a headache.
“I can protect her here at home,” he said at last, turning to face the men with both drinks in his hands. “Doing so at the theater is more difficult. I make her nervous, I think, and frankly my appearance, day by day, would look…out of place, shall we say. Even odd. Everyone will wonder what the devil I’m doing there.” Sarcastically, he added, “Everyone except the great Porano who apparently thinks only of himself.”
Sam adjusted his frame in his chair. “The great who?”
Colin shook his head and moved away from the sideboard. “Never mind.”
“You could always tell them, or better yet, let them assume you’re pursuing Lottie English romantically,” Will suggested, taking his snifter. “Not a soul knows the two of you are married. Imagine the possibilities.”
“Imagine the rumors,” he said. He took a full swallow of his brandy, then lowered his body once again into his rocker. “And although that would be a marvelous excuse to stay close to her, I don’t think Charlotte would appreciate my interference with her work.”
“If you really believe she’s in danger, perhaps you should alert the authorities,” Sam suggested.
Shaking his head, he replied grimly, “I can’t. I’ve thought of that, but I don’t have proof of a plot to harm her, just…a feeling in the gut. And I, apparently, am the only one concerned about it.”
“Here’s another thought,” Will maintained, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the brandy he swirled very slowly in his snifter. “There must be other women at the theater on whom you could…focus your attention.”
“Now, there’s a brilliant idea,” he returned wryly, finishing off his own drink in two large swallows. “Let my wife think my former reputation is intact by charming someone else.”
“Wait a minute,” Sam interjected, his mouth breaking into a crooked smile as he glanced from one to the other. “That’s not a bad idea, Colin. Are there other young women at the theater on a daily basis?”
He grunted. “Of course there are. I suppose.”
“Then think about it,” Sam continued. “Charlotte can hardly avoid you completely if you’re there with the pretense of wooing someone else, and it would save her from having to reveal her relationship with you to anyone who might be overly curious.” He grinned. “And, intentions aside, you might find her to be a bit jealous of you placing your affections elsewhere.”
Colin was dubious. He really wasn’t at all interested in wooing another female at the moment, but he did find himself warming to the idea of making his wife jealous. It might get her into his bed faster than a slow seduction alone. Then again, it might not. It was altogether possible she wouldn’t care in the least. He would have to be very cautious in his approach. Still, there was one thing that bothered him about it.
“The country, as a whole, knows I’m married to the Lady Charlotte, the Earl of Brixham’s respectable sister,” he said, irritated again for no reason at all. “If I’m too blatant about it, word will certainly spread through society that I’m being unfaithful.”
Sam blinked. “And that bothers you?”
The question, asked honestly, made him mad. “Of course it bothers me. I’m not a cad, for Christ’s sake.”
“Then don’t be blatant about it,” Will remarked with a lift of a shoulder. “If you’re careful, whatever you do with whom will only be speculation. Rumor with no factual basis. In the end, only you and Charlotte will know the truth, and that’s really all that matters.”
Colin rubbed his eyes. His head hurt, both from the alcohol he’d drunk, and thinking so hard while under its influence. He needed sleep.
At last Sam glanced at the wall clock and stood. “It’s nearly midnight and I’m exhausted.”
“You’re exhausted?” Colin replied through a weak smile.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “One day, when you get your wife with child, you’ll understand. But I do need to get Olivia home.”
Will finished off his
brandy and stood as well. “We should be on our way, too. We’re leaving for Cornwall next week and I’m sure there’s something Vivian needs to pack.”
Colin pushed his body out of the rocker for a final time and stretched. “It’s amazing how domesticated you two have become. Quite sad, actually.”
“Domestication has its advantages,” Sam acknowledged as the three of them walked to the study door. “And honestly, it’s far better, in every way, than living alone.”
Alone. With my wife in the next room.
The advice given tonight—all of it—would be well taken. He’d truly had enough of the confusion, self-doubt, and tiptoeing around her whims. He was a married man, with a wife to protect and a body that craved her attention. It was time to make some decisions.
It was time for him to act.
Chapter 11
Charlotte sat at her dressing table, wearing her practical cotton nightgown, staring at her face in the mirror, noting that her cheeks still flushed with color from the effects of too much wine. Yvette had just taken her leave for the night, with instructions not to disturb her until eight if she didn’t wake up on her own. Utterly exhausted from a four-hour rehearsal at the theater, then dinner and entertaining with Colin’s friends, she couldn’t wait to crawl between the sheets for a long, restful sleep.
She hadn’t seen her husband since he’d left to have brandy with the gentlemen, and that was perfectly fine with her. The uncomfortable static charge between them whenever they were near each other caused her certain distress and kept her from concentrating on more important matters. Indeed, she’d been fully aware that he spent the entire dinner staring at her, just as she’d been unnaturally aware of him as a man. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the right word. One knew it was only natural for her, as a woman, to respond to his masculinity, his powerful physique and incredibly handsome face. What they shared was nothing more than an awkward physical attraction that would no doubt fade over time. Until then, she would need to keep her wits about her and stay as far removed from his presence as possible. Work, it seemed, was the answer to that, though even when she worked, her mind often strayed to him.
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