Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

He waved his hands around as if overcome with frustration. “And. And. And. You cannot wear that.” He gestured toward her. “That is not a proper gown for a married woman!”

  “Lower your voice, my lord. I am sure the entire household has heard you.” She had the incredible urge to burst into laughter. Today she’d gotten more responses from her husband than she’d had in all the time she’d known him.

  Eugenia took another deep breath, and Devon’s jaw slackened. “Take off that gown. Now,” he growled.

  “I’m afraid I cannot, my lord. The maid has left.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. With deft fingers he undid the back of the gown. She allowed the bodice to drop, which took the entire gown to the floor in a rush of muslin.

  Devon’s hands rested on her shoulders. Her skin burned where he touched her. So rarely had she felt his hands on her bare skin. Her breath hitched as his warm lips met the juncture of her shoulder and neck. She closed her eyes as her insides melted. This was what she’d been longing for.

  “You are stunning, Eugenia.” He moved his mouth to the other side and kissed her on the soft skin under her ear. “But you are mine. Only mine.” Her knees weakened, and she felt as if she would crumble in a heap like her gown.

  “My lord, ’tis time to dress for dinner.” Jake’s voice came through the door, shattering the aura that had encompassed her. Devon drew back, and his hands dropped to his sides. “One moment,” he shouted to the door.

  He turned her toward him. “You must choose another gown and I will lace you up.” His eyes were dark. A shade she’d never seen before. She reached out to touch his cheek. The skin was warm, rougher than hers. Her fingers slid to his chin where she dipped her thumb into the indentation there.

  “My lord?” The voice sounded through the door.

  Devon sighed. “Yes, Jake. I will be right there.”

  The mood broken, she pulled open the wardrobe doors and drew out another new gown, just as flattering, but nowhere near as scandalous as the other. She pulled it over her head and turned so Devon could fasten the back.

  This time there were no soft kisses, just a quick fastening. Disappointed in the change in her husband, she turned. “Thank you, my lord. I will meet you downstairs.”

  He opened the door for her, allowing Jake to enter. He took her gloved hand in his and kissed it. She gathered the train on her gown, placed it over her arm, and headed downstairs.

  The drawing room was slowly filling with the guests who had arrived as they waited for the dinner summons. Lady Jane, a lovely young woman who had made her debut the same year as Eugenia, crossed the room, her arms extended. “Lady Devon. How lovely to see you.”

  “You as well, Lady Jane. It has been a while.”

  “I am terribly sorry to have missed your wedding. I was traveling at the time.” Lady Jane linked her arm in Eugenia’s. “I heard it was a wonderful event.”

  “Yes, it was. But a long day, and very tiring. We traveled that same night to Devon’s country estate.”

  Eugenia thought back to her wedding night. The anticipation and curiosity had been curtly and summarily dismissed when Devon had entered her bedchamber, given her a few kisses, then had gently entered her with the help of a bit of cream he’d brought with him. A sharp pain, a few thrusts, and within minutes it had been finished. He had kissed her on the forehead and left her to wonder if that was all there was.

  Once she’d found her book she had her answer. No. There was a great deal more to be had from a man and woman’s joining, and she intended to have it all.

  …

  Devon stood patiently with his chin raised as Jake finished tying his cravat. His body still hadn’t recovered from seeing Eugenia in that gown. What the devil had she been thinking? She’d been acting peculiar lately, and it was becoming difficult to predict what she would do next.

  She’d always been precisely the same from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Beautiful, gracious, charming. Due to her impeccable manners and demeanor, she’d been well-liked by the ton, and would probably have been considered an Incomparable if she had not been labeled The Ice Queen first.

  He’d spied her across the ballroom at the coming-out ball for Lady Mildred, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Marlowe. Eugenia had stood out from all the other ladies. Although she was young, her poise and sophistication had drawn him in. He’d crossed the room with Lord Talbot in tow to offer an introduction.

  For two years he’d been looking for a bride. None of the young ladies had appealed. Although they had been raised to be a nobleman’s wife, they were simply too young. And frivolous.

  Due to a death in the family, Eugenia had made her come-out well into her eighteenth year, and had spent two years on the Marriage Mart before he’d seen her for the first time. How he’d managed to miss her in those Seasons puzzled him.

  Her dowry was suitable, but not over-generous, which might have explained why two years had gone by. Many of the ton were heavy into gambling, drinking, and other “gentlemanly” pursuits that ate up a great deal of their money. Others, apparently, had been put off by her cool demeanor. Something that to him had held a great deal of appeal.

  Devon had needed no more than one dance to know she was the woman he wanted for his wife. Theirs would be a perfect match. She would run his household with grace and efficiency. Their children would be brought up properly to fit their roles in life. She would be gracious, welcoming, and faithful. No lover for her after an heir and a spare had been born.

  So what the devil had gone wrong?

  Perhaps he was overthinking the matter. She was still his Eugenia, and nothing had changed that he needed to be concerned about. Once Jake assured him he could present himself for dinner without embarrassment, he joined the others in the drawing room.

  About half of the expected guests had arrived; the rest would make their appearance on the morrow. The first thing Devon noticed when he entered the room was Lord Danby speaking with Eugenia. The twinge of what could only be called jealousy that raced through him rattled him to his core. He had no reason whatsoever to question his wife’s fidelity.

  Though Danby certainly seemed to be a tad too close to his wife. And the cad was a tall man, so all he had to do was move an inch closer, look down, and…

  Devon slapped Danby on his back so hard the man’s drink almost went flying. “Good to see you, Danby.”

  “You too, Devon.” The man studied him closely as he wiped part of his drink from his jacket. “I was just enjoying a conversation with your charming wife.”

  “So I see.” Devon moved to Eugenia’s side and placed his hand on her lower back in a possessive move that surprised him as much as it no doubt surprised his wife. “Would you like a drink, my dear?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve already had a sherry.”

  They chatted for about ten minutes, Devon never leaving Eugenia’s side until the butler announced dinner.

  Lord Spencer approached them. “Lady Devon, I am honored to escort you into dinner.”

  Eugenia took the man’s arm and strolled away from Devon.

  “What’s the matter, Devon?” Danby took the last sip of his drink. “You look as though the man has stolen your wife. ’Tis only dinner, you know.”

  Devon pulled himself up. It would certainly not do to have people thinking he was some sort of enamored fool. Love ’twas something that had never crossed his mind when he began the process of searching for his marchioness. Marriage was for the continuance of the title and to solidify connections. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It would do him well to remember that, although, in truth, he’d never had a problem remembering that until now.

  The group moved into the dining room, the guests searching for a little card with their name. He found himself next to Lady Osbourne on one side and Lady Amelia, daughter of Lord and Lady Duncannon, on the other. She was a sweet little thing, but not of a particularly attractive mien, which would account for her many years on the Ma
rriage Mart. Although, rumor had it that her father, in desperation to rid himself of his only daughter, was about to double her dowry.

  “It has been quite a while since I’ve seen you, my lord,” Lady Osbourne leaned in close, resting her breast against his arm, dipping her body so her charms almost fell out onto the table. Her perfume overwhelmed him, but not in a seductive way.

  He had always maintained a strict rule about bedding other men’s wives. A true gentleman used the services of a courtesan, or at the very least, an opera singer. Of course, since he’d had such a problem visiting Margaret’s bed the last five months she’d been alive, he felt no enticement to follow up on the offers he’d been receiving.

  “Perhaps you would like to come by for a drink and some conversation, my lord. My room is the third on the left.” Lady Osbourne cast him a glance from under lowered eyelashes that left him cold.

  “I am sorry, my lady. I expect to be quite busy while I am here. My wife and I have planned a few excursions.” Good lord, now he did sound like a smitten fool.

  Lady Osbourne had passed herself from man to man for years. Even if he had been interested in replacing his mistress, she would never be on his list of possibilities.

  If her eyebrows rose any farther up her head they would tangle with her hairline. “Indeed? How very domestic.” She took a sip of her wine and turned her attention to Lord Cowper on the other side. He might be more obliging, since Devon had heard that Cowper’s current mistress was putting out the word that she would accept offers from other protectors.

  What a life we lead.

  He turned to ask Lady Amelia a question when his gaze landed on Eugenia. She sat between Lord Fordwich and Mr. Althrop, engaging Fordwich in conversation. Fordwich was known for his shyness and lack of social skills. Based on his smiles and riveted attention, she must have been using her considerable charm to keep the man entertained.

  His chest swelled with pride at his wife’s ability to handle any social situation with aplomb. Then, as he continued to observe her, his pride turned to irritation at how close Fordwich sat to her. In fact, if he was not mistaken, the man was practically breathing down her neck. Which meant he was looking down her gown!

  He eased up on his seat to get a better view.

  “Is something the matter, my lord?” Lady Amelia regarded him from behind her thick spectacles.

  He jerked back. “No, nothing. Nothing at all.” He glared in Fordwich’s direction, but the man never noticed him. Much too busy staring at Eugenia’s bosom. Once dinner was over he would be sure to have a word with the man. Remind him where his wife’s face was located. Several inches above where he had been staring.

  He cleared his throat and addressed Lady Amelia. “Are you enjoying the house party?”

  “Oh, yes!” She answered with the lisp that he’d heard many a young lady tittering about at various balls. The poor girl really did not have much in the way of appeal.

  Mr. Carter on her other side spoke to her, and she moved her attention in his direction. The man was single and said to be looking for a bride this season. Perhaps she would have a chance with him. She indeed deserved one.

  Once more Devon glanced down the table toward Eugenia and nearly swallowed his tongue to see Fordwich’s fingers fumbling at the back of Eugenia’s neck.

  What the devil!

  Devon leaned forward to get a better view of what was going on and knocked his wine glass over, spilling the contents right onto Lady Osbourne’s lap. She shrieked and jumped up, her napkin fluttering.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Devon moved his chair back to stand and assist her and banged the back of his chair into a footman behind him who was reaching to place a dish on the table. The man’s hand jerked, and the plate’s contents landed upside down on the table.

  All conversation ceased, and everyone in the room turned their heads and looked directly at him.

  Bloody hell!

  Chapter Seven

  “A damsel in distress elicits protectiveness in a male.”

  Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 14

  The next morning Lady Wentworth stood in the drawing room, where most of the guests had gathered, to announce they would all enjoy a picnic. She went on to assure the ladies there would be plenty of shade to protect their fair skin, and servants to fetch and carry so they need not exert themselves.

  Eugenia studied Devon from where she sat on a settee near the French doors as he leaned against a pillar in the elaborate room and spoke with Lord Bessborough. She still had to bite her lip to keep from laughing over his debacle the previous evening. She had no idea why he had ended up in the predicament at the dinner table, but it had been so unlike him to cause such a scene.

  Later that evening, as they mounted the steps to their bedchamber, he’d brushed it off when she’d questioned him about it. She’d seen him more than once studying her and Lord Fordwich, who she’d discovered was a lecher underneath that shy façade. A number of times she had been forced to lean away from him when he insisted on mumbling in her ear.

  Nothing the man had said was worth a whisper, but politeness kept her from stabbing him in the leg with her dinner fork. She also sincerely doubted there was a problem with the catch on her necklace that he’d insisted on correcting. It had most likely been him attempting to “fix” her necklace that had instigated Devon’s mishap.

  Instead of Devon helping her to undress as she’d planned, he managed to snare another of the guest’s maids to assist. He must have stood at the top of the stairs and grabbed the first servant who’d wandered past. Her nightly ministrations complete, she’d climbed into bed, expecting him to join her, but awoke in the middle of the night to find him snoring softly alongside her. Annoyed that she had fallen asleep before he’d retired, she slid over and enjoyed the warmth from his body.

  Once the sun had risen enough to peek through the drapes to wake her, however, he’d been gone. How he’d managed to dress without her hearing him remained a mystery. There were still a few more nights to the party, and she hoped to use the advice from her book to at least make it difficult for him to continue to treat her like a fragile doll.

  And she definitely did not want him searching for another mistress. She had no idea how long such a process took. It frustrated her that proper women knew so little of the workings of the darker side of life. How she wished she could merely tell Devon she would be his mistress from now on.

  Lady Wentworth clapped her hands. “The carriages are ready to drive us to the lake. Ladies, gather your things. I think the gentlemen have decided to ride horses to the picnic.”

  Eugenia walked with Lady Jane and Lady Mildred to the carriages. Devon took the reins of one of Wentworth’s geldings from a groom, swung his leg over the horse, and settled into the saddle. Eugenia couldn’t help but appreciate how he sat a horse. She felt decadent admiring the ripple of muscles from his powerful thighs and tight bottom as he controlled the animal with his knees. Luckily she had brought her fan and made use of it.

  The ladies all climbed into the carriages and, with squeals of laughter and joking, they were off. The men galloped ahead, then pulled back to chat with one or two of the ladies. Within ten minutes they arrived at the picnic site.

  The servants had been busy. This was not at all similar to the wonderful alfresco meal she and Devon had shared. Under lush shade trees, tables and chairs had been set up, covered with linen tablecloths, fine china, crystal, and silver. At one time Eugenia would not have even thought twice about it, but now she was seeing life in a different way—thanks to her book—and this hardly seemed like a picnic. She’d enjoyed her time with Devon, sitting on the ground and eating from the basket. Most likely the other ladies would be scandalized to know she’d enjoyed such a thing.

  It seemed she was now questioning just about everything in her life. All matters she’d taken for granted. How she’d been raised, what her parents’ expectations had been for her life. The type of a marriage she’d been trained for. Why women
couldn’t enjoy the marriage bed the way men did. Maybe everything she’d learned her whole life had been a lie. A startling thought, that.

  Although she had joked with Devon, perhaps one day a woman would sit in Parliament! The outrageous thought had her cheeks flushing. She darted a look around as if her ruminations were visible on her face. No one paid her any attention, except Devon, who had handed the horse’s reins to a groom and headed in her direction.

  Her heart fluttered, and she felt like grinning. Ordinarily, he would have joined the other men and allowed one of the footmen to help her out of the carriage. “Thank you, my lord.” She took his hand and stepped down.

  She drew in a breath when he kissed her hand. “My dear, perhaps after five months of marriage you might call me Devon, rather than ‘my lord’?”

  Eugenia just stared at him. Had he found her book? Things were certainly changing between them. Smiling brightly, she took his proffered arm and strolled with him toward the picnic area.

  Leaning close to her ear, he said, “I think I prefer our picnic yesterday.”

  For the first time in her life, she felt like a young girl in love, one of the silly chits who graced the ballrooms each new Season. She had to quell her desire to giggle and flirt. With her own husband!

  “Say, old man, how about a game of pall mall?” Lord Darby addressed Devon, with Lords Althrop and Spencer behind him, mallets and colorful balls in their hands.

  “Do you mind, my dear?” Devon turned to her and patted her hand that rested on his arm.

  Feeling a bit miffed since she’d only just gained her husband’s attention, she started to answer her usual, “not at all, my lord,” but then, before she even gave it proper thought, said, “May I play as well?”

  Of course, she’d seen women play pall mall, but she had never been one to engage in any game more strenuous than whist.

  “Ho. Competition between the spouses?” Lord Althrop said, slapping Devon on the back.

  “Are you sure?” Devon asked. It was hard for her to ascertain if it was surprise or irritation on his face. Never before had she inserted herself into an activity where she had not been invited.