Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  She nodded. It was not difficult for her to understand what he’d said, but she did not necessarily agree with it. The underclass had a great many needs that apparently some in Parliament saw and wanted to address. But it had been her intention to spend more time with Devon, not argue with him, so ’twas best to let it go.

  “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” His arrogant grin loosened the lips she’d intended to keep closed.

  “No. It does not.” She raised her chin and glared at him.

  He leaned back. “Indeed?”

  “Yes.” Eugenia rose to pace, and Devon jumped up, lest he sit while a lady stood. She had the strangest urge to tell him to sit back down. Instead, she said, “The underclass needs a champion. If Parliament does not speak for them, then who will?”

  If Devon’s eyes grew any larger they would pop right out of his head. “You don’t understand, my dear. England is a great country because the nobility have always done what was best for the country. I intend to see it stays that way.”

  A little voice in the back of her head—that sounded eerily like Mother—told her to smile and nod her head in agreement. However, the loud, newly-risen scandalous voice spoke instead. “And would you consider the country being so well run if you were one of the underclass? Unable to provide for your family? Unable to engage the services of a physician, if your child were ill?”

  Devon’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He shook his head and took Eugenia’s hand. “My dear, you are overwrought. I suggest you take a lie-down to ease your sensibilities.” He bent and gave her a dutiful peck on her cheek. “I will see you at dinner.” Then he strode from the room, leaving Eugenia touching her cheek where she still felt the warmth of his lips.

  What would he have done if she’d turned her head so his lips landed on hers? Whatever had possessed her to argue with him? She’d never argued with anyone in her life. But it had felt good. Refreshing. As if she had said something important. Something that mattered.

  Except Devon obviously hadn’t thought so. Perhaps she was better suited to trying to seduce him, rather than working up antagonism between them by arguing Parliamentary matters, even though she resented his attitude toward her.

  She sat and tapped her quill on the desk. She needed to spend more time with her book and find more ideas to keep Devon off-balance. He might begin the search for another mistress at any time. If he had not done so already.

  How could a woman raised to believe hers was a normal marriage, and married to a man who believed the same thing, change it all around? Thanks to her book, she had started to disconcert him at times.

  Mayhap another visit to the bookstore—if she could get past her embarrassment from the last visit—might turn up other books to increase her knowledge of the world. She laughed, thinking about the surprise on Mr. Webster’s face when she handed over the book on the Aborigines. Well, his eyebrows were going to rise some more. If she were going to change her life, why not do it all the way?

  Later that evening, Eugenia and Devon entered their theater box, followed by Lord and Lady Bedford. The gentlemen settled the ladies on their chairs at the front of the box and took the two seats behind them. Eugenia was excited to see Romeo and Juliet once again. It had always been one of her favorite of Shakespeare’s plays. Perhaps it was the romance in the story that captured the girl, and young woman, who had never expected to have any in her life.

  Until now.

  “Bedford, would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of lemonade? I feel parched.” Lady Bedford shifted in her seat to speak with her husband.

  “Of course.”

  “Eugenia, would you care for some as well?” Devon touched her on the shoulder, causing her to shiver slightly. How she would love to have his bare hand on her, no glove keeping their skin separated.

  “Yes, please.”

  Once the men left, Eugenia regarded Lady Bedford. Rumor had it she and her husband had a love match. He was smitten with his countess, and she with him. What was a love match marriage like? How did it differ from hers?

  Just a mere month ago those thoughts had never crossed her mind, and she would not have asked questions, but she was no longer The Ice Queen who was willing to accept the marriage she’d been raised to expect. Or that her husband had apparently envisaged when he’d proposed. She wanted passion and all the things she’d read in her book.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to Lady Bedford. “It is always such a pleasure to be with you and Bedford. I am so glad you accepted our invitation this evening.”

  The woman cast her a generous smile. “And we enjoy your company, as well. Things are always so pleasant with you and Devon. Too many couples spend their time together bickering, making it most uncomfortable for those around them.”

  An opening! “Yes. I agree, and understand what you mean. I have found that to be so, myself.” Eugenia’s brain was in a whirl. Lady Bedford had given her the opportunity she needed. But how to pry into the couple’s private life without appearing boorish?

  “But then not all marriages are the love match you and Bedford enjoy.” Eugenia held her breath, waiting for her companion to gasp at her forwardness.

  Lady Bedford smiled and said, “Yes. I’m afraid Bedford and I are quite smitten with each other.”

  Eugenia relaxed. No censure in the woman’s voice.

  Knowing she did not have a great deal of time until the gentlemen returned, and this might be her only chance to gain insight, she lowered her voice and said, “How, then, do you deal with his mistress?”

  Lady Bedford reared back. “What? Who said Bedford had a mistress?”

  Confused, Eugenia placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “Please don’t be distressed, I assumed all the gentlemen had mistresses.” Isn’t that what her mother had told her for years? She’d never had close female friends, since Mother had kept her quite supervised and, once she’d entered the Marriage Mart, her reputation had kept her from forming any sort of attachments with the other girls.

  The older woman patted her hand. “No, my dear. Not all gentlemen have mistresses, and I’m sorry you believed that. To answer your question, if Bedford took a mistress, I am afraid I would shoot him with his own pistol.”

  Lady Bedford sat back and studied Eugenia, a knowing smile on her face. “Now is your chance, my dear. Keep him happy at home.”

  She didn’t need any more words to understand what Lady Bedford was telling her. And she agreed. She intended to make Devon so happy at home he would have trouble walking.

  Her face flushed, and she covered her mouth as she giggled. Lady Bedford nodded. “Indeed.”

  …

  Devon settled into the comfortable carriage as the driver closed the door. He looked across the space at his wife, again admiring the beauty and softness that had surrounded her of late. Could this new Eugenia be with child? He couldn’t think of any other explanation for her different—and at times strange—behavior.

  It had rattled him so much he’d skipped visiting her bed for more than a week now. Despite what he considered the utmost control he’d always had over his manly urges, he feared lying with her would unleash something inside him he’d always kept in check. And if she were, indeed, with child, it might harm them both in some way.

  They were on their way to a ball for Lord and Lady Spencer’s youngest daughter, Genevieve’s, come-out. Lately, he’d been considering how he would prefer to retire to the country. He’d had enough of social life and all the evenings out. On some days, Parliament, itself, was a chore. What he wanted was peace and quiet, a child or two to raise, and his wife by his side.

  His work in Parliament had lost some of its draw. After Eugenia had expressed her opinion on the bill he was sponsoring, he found himself second-guessing not only the bill, but a great deal about himself.

  He’d always considered himself a compassionate man. Now he realized that his concerns had been for those who were certainly not in need. Why had he never considered the plight of the un
derclass, the poor of London who lived in such dire circumstances? The devil take it, if this kept up, he would have to switch to the Whig party!

  All those thoughts left him unsettled. He glanced at Eugenia, his wife. The woman he’d known from the time he had set eyes on her that she would be his. Things had been just as he’d expected until Eugenia had started to behave in an unusual way. Though once he’d gotten past his surprise, he found himself quite pleased.

  He’d also discovered his feelings for her had changed. She’d begun to mean more to him than he had expected. He’d never intended to fall in love with his wife. He had wanted, searched for, and secured, the type of woman who would complete his life plans. Not someone who would disrupt those plans by bringing emotions into the mix.

  He studied her as he ruminated. Her slim neck with small curls resting against her pale skin. Her eyes were turned toward the window, but he knew them to be crystal blue. If he brought her to passion, would they darken?

  “Have you thought more about the bill I am sponsoring in Parliament?” He blurted out the words, seeking to distract his thoughts, but startled Eugenia, who jumped slightly.

  “As a matter of fact, I have, my—”

  “Please,” he smiled, “no more ‘my lord’.”

  The semidarkness of the carriage, with the soft glow of the lamp alongside her head, stirred all the feelings he was attempting to quell. “And what are your thoughts, my dear?”

  “I believe that passing laws to cause those in need more difficult times is unkind.”

  He opened and closed his mouth several times. “Truly?”

  Was that really the best he could come up with? He’d never expected his wife to disagree with him, nor to offer a comment that appeared to be censure. “Do you then believe I am an unkind person?”

  She quickly shook her head. “Not at all. I think perhaps you haven’t thought it through?”

  “Is that a statement or a question, my love?”

  Eugenia flushed at the endearment that flowed so easily from his mouth. So easily that it had shocked him as well. She reached across and touched his knee. Heat immediately raced from that spot to his groin. Bloody hell. He was really in a bad way.

  “Please do not be upset.” She sat back, settling her hands demurely in her lap. “Perhaps I do not understand. That is all.”

  “Not so. Perhaps you understand even more. I must admit you have encouraged me to give it some thought.”

  Her bright smile at his words warmed him. How he wanted to cover those luscious lips with his own, not in a perfunctory kiss as he usually bestowed upon her, but a reckless plunder of her mouth. To taste her sweetness, run his tongue over the inside, sweep past all the places that would have her moaning. The memories of the few times he had, in fact, ravished her mouth, had him hardening.

  He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, and was still attempting to gain control of his raging blood when the carriage rolled to a stop and a footman opened the door. They followed the stream of guests approaching the house. Hundreds of candles burned inside, reflected on dozens of mirrors, casting the outside of the home in bright light.

  They offered warm regards to others as they inched their way into the house. Once Devon handed his invitation to the butler, Eugenia turned to have the butler remove her wrap.

  Devon’s stomach plummeted to his feet.

  This was no Ice Queen standing before him. Eugenia’s creamy cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with excitement. Several curls had been left to brush her pale, smooth skin.

  But her gown!

  The red silk material hugged her bodice to fall in waves about her lithe body. The neckline was once again scandalously low for Eugenia. The cap sleeves rested on her upper arms, but off her shoulders. Nestled between her plump breasts, a gold and ruby necklace lay against her skin, drawing his eyes to the delectable sight. All that bare skin cried out for his touch, for his mouth. He groaned inwardly and fought the urge to remove his jacket and plop it onto her shoulders.

  Instead, taking a hard swallow, he extended his arm and they walked to the top of the stairs where they were announced. It might have been his imagination, but more than the usual amount of attention seemed to come their way. They barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before two men walked up and requested dances.

  Flushing even further from the attention, Eugenia wrote their names as another man approached.

  Bollocks! Eugenia was a married woman, and her husband stood no more than two feet from her. Devon moved closer and wrapped his arm around her waist, in a move so possessive he almost laughed at himself.

  “My dear, shall I escort you to visit with your friends?” Eugenia always sat with the matrons, and rarely, if ever, ventured to the dance floor more than two or three times an evening. They moved across the room, dodging more men stopping her every few steps to chat, flirt, and request a dance.

  Devon rotated his neck and ran his finger along the inside of his cravat. If one more arse stepped in front of them, he would surely plant him a facer. He was getting mighty tired of all the attention directed at his wife. Didn’t these men respect that she was a married matron, who should be sitting right now with the other matrons, watching the young girls and commenting on their behavior?

  They had no sooner reached the matron area when another young pup stopped them and asked Eugenia for the dance the orchestra was just starting up. By God, the woman would certainly refuse him since she hadn’t even yet caught her breath from fighting her way across the ballroom.

  “I would be delighted, my lord.” Eugenia curtsied to the bloody fool, who then turned the brightest shade of red Devon had ever seen. Put his wife’s gown to shame, in fact.

  “My dear, perhaps you should rest a bit.” Damn, now he sounded like an idiot.

  She raised her eyebrows. “We have just arrived. I think I can handle a dance or two.” With humor in her eyes, she walked off with the young fool panting after her.

  A flush crept up his face at the sound of tittering among the matrons sitting like overstuffed crows at a banquet table. Turning on his heel, his back straight, he left the ballroom and headed for the card room.

  No matter how hard he tried, he could not concentrate on the game or the cards in his hand. He hadn’t played so badly in years. Every time he looked at the cards he saw Eugenia in her red gown, laughing gaily, joining hands with some pock-faced youth as they skipped up and down a row of dancers. If her gown dipped any lower she would be in disgrace. His Eugenia!

  “Devon.” He looked up as three sets of eyes stared at him. “Are you with us, man? Do you want another card?” Lord Bentley’s irritation hinted that he’d been woolgathering for some time.

  He glanced quickly at his cards. “No. I’ll stay.”

  The round ended with him losing again. Devon pushed his chair back and stood. “Gentlemen, I will bid you good night.” They barely noticed his departure as Bentley dealt another hand. Lord Ponsoby quickly took his seat.

  It was nearing time for the supper waltz. He and Eugenia always shared that dance, then the supper that followed. Normally, he would then leave for his club and she would depart for home. Tonight she would probably be so tired from all the dances she might be willing to leave for home now.

  He wended his way through the crowd until he spotted her in a circle of three men. He gritted his teeth. This was nonsense. He should be happy that his wife was having a good time. And once he snatched her out of the arms of half the men of the ton, he would be happy for her.

  And himself.

  Holding out his hand, he said, “’Tis time for our supper waltz, my dear.” He nudged one of the men aside to take her hand.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “What?”

  Eugenia looked at the small card hanging by a ribbon from her wrist, chewing her lip. “It seems Mr. Rickford has signed his name next to the supper waltz.”

  The man who must have been Rickford grinned at him. The red of Eugenia’s gown was nothing compa
red to the red haze that colored Devon’s world. “We always have the supper waltz together, my dear.” If his jaw got any tighter his teeth would snap.

  The music started and Rickford held his hand out for Eugenia, who smiled at him, shrugged at Devon—her husband—and walked off.

  Bloody, bloody hell!

  Chapter Nine

  “Handsome male friends are indispensable to a woman seeking a certain man’s attention.”

  Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 68

  Eugenia stretched languidly and stared out the bedchamber window. Sally had just entered and pulled open all the drapes, allowing the bright sunshine to flood the room. She shifted and moved to her side, resting her head on her folded hands.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop smiling over the ball the night before. Devon had definitely disliked all the attention she’d received. Truth be told, she hadn’t been too happy with it herself. Where were all these men when she’d spent ball after ball with only two or three names on her dance card?

  Of course, one look at Devon last Season as he had approached her for the first time, tall, a rakish curl falling over his broad forehead, and handsome as sin in his evening attire, had made her heart thump and her stomach flutter. Handsome, charming, titled, and wealthy, Devon had been the darling of the ton. Marriage-minded mamas had dragged any number of giggling, blushing daughters to him, but he had never shown more than a polite interest.

  Eugenia had admired him from afar since her come-out. To her way of thinking, no other man measured up. He, however, had never seemed to notice her. She’d heard he’d been searching for a bride for two years, and she was genuinely surprised when he’d turned his attention, and full-out charm, on her. Since she’d spent most of her time sitting with the wallflowers, she’d never come to his attention. Until that magical night at the Billingham’s ball when he’d walked up to her with Lord Talbot at his side. Talbot had made the introductions, and Devon had requested a dance.

  That he had actually requested an introduction, and then commenced to court her, still brought shivers to her skin. But now she wanted more. More of him, more of his attentions, more of his visits to her bed. She grinned. She’d certainly gotten more of his attention last night. As soon as the supper waltz had ended, Devon had sought her out and joined her and Mr. Rickford for supper. Rickford hadn’t looked too pleased, but she’d been ecstatic.