Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  Her eyes snapped open at the choking sound coming from her husband. “Are you sure you are all right, my lord?”

  “What are you doing, Eugenia?” He barely got the words out.

  “Drinking wine?”

  He had definitely been affected by the performance she’d just put on. She had the urge to squeal with happiness, but even her new self would not allow such improper behavior. Instead, she smiled inwardly and continued, “You are not eating.”

  Devon ripped off a piece of chicken with his teeth, bringing to mind a dog that had torn into a chunk of meat he’d stolen from Cook before her broom hit him on the head. She continued to relish every bite of food, making appropriate humming sounds, running her tongue over her lips and generally creating such a disturbance for her oh-so-proper husband that he nearly choked on a piece of cheese.

  “Tell me about your childhood.” Eugenia wiped her mouth with a napkin and placed it alongside her.

  Devon frowned. “My childhood?”

  “Yes. You’ve never spoken of it, and I often wondered if there was a particular reason. Was it a happy one?”

  Taking a sip of wine, he swallowed and said, “To the extent any child of the beau monde is happy. With only two sisters to play with, I’m afraid I spent more time alone than in company. Mother made sure the girls were kept indoors doing whatever it is little girls do to train to be superior wives and mothers.”

  Eugenia wrinkled her nose. “Although my childhood was similar to your sisters, I have only recently come to realize how little freedom and variety little girls have in their lives.”

  “What do you mean?” He eased back against the trunk of the tree they sat under, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, his hands casually resting right where she didn’t want to look. Well, actually, yes, she did want to look. In five months of marriage she had never seen her husband’s man parts but, after spending so much time with her book, she’d certainly seen plenty of other men.

  Was his member thick, or long? She’d felt it plunge into her body, quite painfully the first time, but had never seen it, or touched it with her hand. The next time he came to her, she would have to rectify that. Wouldn’t that shock her husband?

  Pulling her thoughts away from the dangerous place they were headed, she answered, “I mean, you ran around outdoors, probably climbing trees, wading into ponds, and discovering all manner of things, much like my brother, Nash, while your sisters were forced to sit still.”

  “That’s what little girls want to do.” He seemed genuinely perplexed by her remarks. “I mean, they are not physically made to do the things that little boys do.”

  Why she was arguing this point confounded her. She’d never questioned her upbringing before now. It seemed the book had changed her in other ways. “I do not agree, my lord. My legs are able to climb and run, my arms are able to swim, my eyes are able to explore new things they’ve never seen before.”

  Devon shook his head. “We all have our place in life, Eugenia. Women are made a certain way and therefore are limited in what they can do. A lady’s place is to run a household, bear children, and raise them to be proper adults.”

  Eugenia placed her wine glass on the blanket, then shifted to her knees, leaning forward. No doubt the look on her face was somewhat disagreeable, because Devon leaned back.

  “Suppose a woman wanted to not do all those things? Suppose she wanted to sit in Parliament? Or visit Tattersall’s on a Tuesday for the auctions, or visit White’s, or a gaming hell?” Her voice rose as all the things she had been denied, that she never knew she cared about, bubbled to the surface.

  Devon opened and closed his mouth several times before he spoke. “You want to go to a gaming hell?”

  All the air left Eugenia’s lungs, and she felt deflated, like a balloon that had a pin stuck in it. Of course she didn’t want to go to a gaming hell. What she wanted was to have her husband make love to her like he had his mistress.

  There. She’d said those words, although just to herself. She was a deviant, and probably headed to hell upon her death. “No. I do not want to go to a gaming hell. That was only an example.”

  “My dear, I think perhaps you have had too much sun, and it has weakened your constitution. You are overwrought, and it is time to return to the house so you may rest.”

  For heaven’s sake, he sounded like her mother. She stared open-mouthed at this man she loved and had married hoping one day he might love her. Yet his ideas were so rigid, so—ton. But then, again, in all honesty, hers were the same—or had been until she’d discovered the book.

  “Yes, you may be right.” Hating herself for giving in so easily, nevertheless, there were more important battles to be won. She started to gather up the remnants of the picnic, so she could return to their room and rest, like a good little girl.

  …

  Devon studied Eugenia under lowered lashes as they both cleaned up, placing items in the basket, standing, and shaking out the blanket. She’d been so very strange lately. Could it be she was increasing, and all her emotions were unbalanced due to pregnancy?

  Sit in Parliament? Go to a gaming hell? He thought he knew her so well. Eleven months of acquaintance, and not once had she ever deviated from exactly what he’d thought she was.

  A proper English lady.

  Something inside him twisted when he saw the unhappy look on her face. He reached for her hand as they walked to the horses, and gave it a slight squeeze, then linked their fingers together. The smile she turned on him hit him like an unexpected punch to the gut. All the air left his lungs, and he wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her senseless. Right here in the outdoors. Something was happening between them that, frankly, he did not understand.

  When they reached the animals, he fastened the basket to the back of his horse and turned to help Eugenia. Her crystal blue eyes looked back at him. Pleading, asking for something. Before he could reach for her waist to lift her, she tilted her chin and licked her perfect pink lips, almost daring him to—what?

  Slowly his head descended and his large hand took her face and held it gently. Her lips were plump and smooth. He teased her with a few short nibbles, then took her mouth in complete ownership. He nudged her lips with his tongue and swept in at her gasp. He tasted the sharpness of the wine, the sweetness of the grapes, and something minty. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, sliding from place to place.

  She kissed him back with a hunger that stunned him. His arm tightened around her, drawing her closer so her breasts were flat against his chest. How he longed to be rid of the clothing that separated them, so he could feel the hardness of her nipples scrape against his skin. His cock shouted its agreement.

  Eugenia seemed to grow limp, which reminded him that they stood in the outdoors where anyone could ride by. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, male satisfaction racing through him at the wistful expression on her face. Before he could continue with what he’d started, he turned her and set her on the horse.

  She shivered, as if a sudden chill had swept through her, then looked around, appearing to ascertain where she was. “Be careful, Eugenia.” His words seemed to snap her out of her inattention. She gripped the reins and gave a curt nod.

  He should not have kissed her that way. She was a young, proper lady, who no doubt would be completely shocked and dismayed when she returned to herself. It was his duty to protect her sensibilities. He must learn to curb his appetites.

  More guests had arrived by the time they returned, even though the party wouldn’t officially start until the next day. Devon watched Eugenia return to their bedroom to rest from the picnic, he assumed, then he strolled down the corridor to the billiard room.

  Several men stood around, drinking and talking while two others played. Devon helped himself to a brandy and joined Lord Benson and Mr. Sedow, who were involved in a lively discussion on the benefits of some new horseflesh Sedow had recently acquired.

  He didn’t join
in the conversation, but allowed his thoughts to wander while the men rambled on. There was no doubt that he had begun to think of Eugenia in a more lustful way. Perhaps being without a mistress since before he’d married was wearing on him. On the other hand, he no longer found the idea of sex with anyone else appealing.

  Eugenia, with her blue eyes, blond curls, and sweet mouth would be a pleasure to take to bed. Not just for a quick attempt to gain an heir, but to enjoy her body. Her breasts pressed up against him were soft and full. When he’d rested his hands on her waist it had been impossible not to notice the flair of her hips. And the smooth creamy skin on her back when he’d unbuttoned her frock still had him fighting to keep the blood away from where he didn’t want it to go.

  “Your wife is to always be treated with the utmost respect, son. Slake your lust on courtesans and opera dancers, but never demean the lady you married with licentious behavior.”

  His father’s words were ingrained in him through years of repetition. The late marquess had had rules for everything, every behavior, even every thought, and had made sure his son understood and adhered to the rules.

  But he’s dead now.

  “Say, Devon, you certainly are woolgathering there.” Benson grinned at him as he lifted his glass to sip. “How goes the bill you planned to sponsor in the House?”

  “I think I have enough votes to get it through. It’s about time we stopped the Whigs from all their liberal ideas. Things are just fine the way they are, and I see no reason to change a system that has worked for decades.”

  “Hear, hear,” Benson said as he raised his glass in salute. “We need more who think as you do, Devon. Before we know it, we’ll all be giving our lands away to those who are trying to ape their betters.”

  Devon nodded and joined Benson in sipping the fine brandy Wentworth provided his guests.

  “Ah, but then one must consider the French citizens’ revolt. The aristocracy had ignored the plight of the poor.” Mr. Sedow stared at them through the thick spectacles he’d worn ever since Devon had known him, as far back as Eton. The third son of the Earl of Attlee, Sedow was known for his contrary views. Devon had often thought the man was still rebelling against his overbearing father.

  “That will never happen in England. We have things in control.” Benson dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.

  “That’s what we thought when the colonists in America dumped all that tea in Boston. Look how that turned out.” Sedow punctuated the air with his finger, settling in for an argument of which Devon did not want to be a part.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I will take on Jennings at billiards.” Devon placed his glass on a small table and left the two men to enjoy a heated argument.

  “Are you up for a challenge?” he asked Lord Jennings.

  The older man, plump from too much fine food and not enough exercise, grunted his answer. Devon walked to a rack on the wall. “Maces or cues?”

  “Cues.”

  Devon rubbed the tip of his cue with chalk and leaned over the table. The game commenced, both men quiet until Jennings leaned his cue stick on the floor and studied Devon. “You ready for a new mistress? I know it hasn’t been that long since Mrs. Forestor died, but a man has needs, you know what I mean?” He wagged his eyebrows.

  Devon rubbed the chalk on his stick once again. “I do have a wife.”

  “Yes. Well, we all do, but a man’s requirements are not generally satisfied in the marital bed.” He shook his head. “Bloody hell, if I depended on my wife, my cock would have shriveled up and died a long time ago.” He roared with laughter at his own joke.

  “I guess you’re just not ready to replace Margaret, eh?” He leaned over and aimed his cue stick. “Most likely it will take some time.” He slammed the cue stick against the white ball and stood. “Just don’t wait too long. Don’t want you shriveling up and dying.”

  Nothing further was mentioned along the line of mistresses for the rest of the game, but nevertheless, Devon spent a great deal of time pondering their conversation. How would he replace Margaret when the time spent with her once he’d married had been no more than two friends visiting? Hell, they might as well have been drinking tea and gossiping like two matrons at afternoon calls.

  Feeling lost and not wanting to spend any more time discussing the benefits of a mistress, Devon hung up his cue stick, once the game ended, and left the room. He stopped to speak with his host for a while, then made his way upstairs to the level where the bedrooms were. He knocked softly on the bedroom door, not wanting to awaken Eugenia if she was napping.

  When there was no answer, he eased the door open. Eugenia lay on the bed, fast asleep. She had removed her riding outfit and rested in her stays and chemise. She didn’t look very comfortable, and once again he wondered how women could stand to be so constricted all the time.

  Much like Eugenia had pointed out to him about little girls and little boys.

  He didn’t often see her in slumber, since he always left her once he was through with his duty so as not to disturb her rest. She lay on her side, her hands folded under her cheek. Cheeks like sweet cream and flushed from sleep. With her blond curls scattered around her shoulders she looked like an angel.

  But kissed like a devil.

  Chapter Six

  “Deep breaths bring attention to one’s bosom.”

  Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 51

  Eugenia’s eyelids fluttered open, and she drew in a sharp breath. Devon stood no less than three feet away, staring at her.

  He winced. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  She shifted so her body rested against the headboard. She smoothed her hair back, but since she’d taken out her pins before she’d fallen asleep, it covered her shoulders, falling almost to her waist. Devon stared at her hair and moved slowly toward her. Sitting alongside her on the bed, he reached out and took a curl in his fingers, rubbing the strands between his index finger and thumb. “I’ve never seen your hair completely down. It’s lovely.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a mess from sleeping.” Remembering something from the book, she asked, “Will you be so kind as to fetch my brush from the dresser?”

  Once she had the brush in her hand, she began to leisurely run the bristles through her hair, closing her eyes.

  “I had the most wonderful nap.” Brush, brush.

  “I even dreamed I was at the theater.” Brush, brush.

  “Midsummer Night’s Dream was being performed.” Brush, brush.

  Devon took the brush from her hand. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Let me do that.” His hand shook as he began to repeat her actions. His breathing seemed to increase, and she found herself tingling in places that were usually quite silent. She closed her eyes and moaned softly at the feel of his strong fingers in her hair.

  “Does that feel good?” His voice was smooth, deep, and did funny things to her insides.

  She dropped her gaze to his crotch and nearly cheered at the evidence of his arousal. “Hmm. Yes, it feels wonderful.”

  “Oh.”

  The gong sounded, alerting the guests to dress for dinner. “I am afraid you will have to assist me again, my lord.”

  Devon dropped the brush and bounded from the bed. “No,” he croaked.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I mean, I will find someone to help you.” He hurried from the room as if his pants were on fire.

  She giggled. Perhaps they were.

  A few minutes later a slight knock on the door drew her attention. “Come in.”

  A young girl in a maid’s uniform entered. “My lady, I have been asked to assist you since your lady’s maid is feeling poorly.”

  “Thank you so much. What is your name?”

  “Mary, my lady.” The young girl offered a curtsy.

  Eugenia opened the wardrobe door and removed one of her new gowns. This one was a dark rose muslin, cut lower in the front than any gown she’d ever owned. A cream bow underneath her
breasts drew the eyes to the bosom. Eugenia’s heart thudded at the thought of wearing it. It had seemed such a good idea when she’d had it made, and the modiste had waxed eloquently on how exquisite it looked on her.

  She hesitated for only a moment before she turned to the maid. “This one, Mary.”

  “That is most comely, my lady. It will look wonderful with your hair.” She moved behind Eugenia and tightened her stays, bringing her breasts up farther.

  Sometime later Eugenia studied herself in the mirror. Oh, my. The gown was stunning—there was no other word for it. The fabric floated around her body as she walked, shimmering in the candlelight. But could she really walk out of the room dressed like this? To her own eyes she looked wonderful, and the neckline was no lower than other gowns she’d seen hundreds of times before.

  But never on her.

  Steeling herself, she tugged on her elbow-length gloves, picked up her fan, and took a deep breath. And felt as though her breasts would tumble out of the gown. Before she was able to reach the door, a slight knock sounded.

  Devon and his valet Jake stood there. Eugenia backed up to allow the two men to enter. Devon’s eyes went directly to her chest. If his eyes grew any wider they would surely pop out of his head. He turned to Jake. “I will be with you in a minute.” Lest the man not understand him, Devon laid his hand on the valet’s shoulder and pushed him toward the door. Eugenia thought for a moment that he would cover Jake’s eyes with his hand.

  Once the door closed, Devon marched up to her. “Eugenia, for heaven’s sake, what do you have on?”

  She raised her chin. “Is there something wrong with my gown, my lord?”

  “Not at all. ’Tis lovely. My question to you, madam, is where is the rest of it?”

  Eugenia tilted her head sideways, all innocent puzzlement. “My lord?”

  Devon ran his fingers through his hair, turned in a circle, then rested his hands on his hips. “Eugenia. Love. I have never seen you in anything like this. Ever.”

  “And?”