Bloody hell.
“Yes, I am, my lord. Although three dances in a row have left me overwarm, I am afraid.”
He looked down at her upturned face and pulled her even closer. A man could get lost in those eyes. “I would be happy to escort you to the garden for some fresh air if you would prefer that to a dance.” Perhaps he could use some air himself, since at the moment he felt as though his lungs were having some difficulty accessing any.
“Yes. Please.”
With several well-executed dance steps, he turned, then maneuvered them near the French doors, where he led her into the garden.
“Oh, this feels wonderful.” Taking a deep breath, Eugenia expanded her lungs and left Devon licking his dry lips as he watched her delectable breasts rise and fall. His hand itched to cover the tempting mounds, to tease her dark brown nipple with his thumb until it stood erect, ready for his mouth.
What the devil was he doing?
It would never do to consider ravishing his wife in a garden a few steps from a crowded ballroom. He backed up. “I am afraid I must leave you soon.”
Her eyebrows rose. “To the card room?”
“Yes.” They wandered the patio for several minutes discussing the ball, until he could reasonably return her.
Devon left her with the ladies, then continued on, weaving his way through the crowd, heading toward the card room. He glanced back to see Eugenia busy conversing with Lady Dumont. Making a sharp left, he wended his way to the other side of the ballroom, where from behind a potted plant he had a perfect view of his wife.
Providing, of course, she never left that spot all evening. Nevertheless, it was time to see if he could rout out the libertine dallying with his Eugenia.
…
Disappointed that Devon had taken such a quick leave of her once they’d walked the garden, Eugenia listened to Lady Dumont carp on the lack of decent help. Of course, the woman was noted for her ill-use of servants, along with low wages. Eugenia nodded in sympathy as her eyes skirted the room.
Her head jerked when she saw Devon as he made his way toward the card room, then turn abruptly, going in the opposite direction. She frowned, trying to keep him in her vision, but he walked behind two large men obviously involved in a heated debate, and then disappeared.
Strange, that.
She nodded automatically in Lady Dumont’s direction as her mind whirled with what she’d just seen. Devon had lied to her. She’d not seen another person wave at him to garner his attention, so that could not be the reason he headed in the opposite direction. In fact, there was nothing in that direction except the stairs to the front door.
Oh! She gasped, causing Lady Dumont to pause for air and regard her with furrowed brows. “Is something amiss, Eugenia?”
Gathering her wits, she offered a wan smile. “No. Nothing. I apologize. Do go on.”
“Well, as I said, that driver…”
Driver. Devon must be headed to their carriage. The only reason he would leave in the middle of the ball and not tell her—in fact lie to her—was to meet up with a woman. Perhaps one of the vulgar ladies who’d been casting their eyes in his direction since their arrival. Then she took herself to task. He’d never hidden the fact that he was visiting his mistress before. Although, since that unmentionable subject would never have arisen between them, anyway, how was she to know if he’d hidden that fact. Had he?
Oh, goodness. She was tying herself into knots. Most likely the man she’d seen wasn’t even Devon to begin with. There were a hundred men here dressed in evening clothes, many of them with Devon’s height and hair color. She was again making a mountain out of a molehill.
And would this woman ever stop talking?
“You must excuse me, my lady, but I find it necessary to visit the ladies’ retiring room.” Eugenia put what she hoped was a believable expression on her face.
“Oh, of course, dear. Do go on.” Lady Dumont waved her hand. “I shall be just fine right here.” She glanced over Eugenia’s shoulder. “I believe my next dance partner is on his way.”
There was only one way to calm herself. She would go into the garden, around the patio, and sneak a look in the card room. Once she saw Devon there, benignly playing cards, she would put all her worries to rest.
It took some time to walk in the direction of the ladies’ retiring room, then circle back and proceed in the opposite direction to the French doors. She was stopped many times, another man requesting a dance, two ladies wanting to talk about the latest on-dit. Comments on her gown, hair style, and other flattering compliments she’d never heard before, kept her insides fluttering, anxious to be on her way to the garden.
Finally, she reached the door. Taking a quick look around, she left the ballroom and smiled as the cool night enveloped her.
The card room was on the other side of the house, so she had to walk the wandering path through the dark garden. The good thing about its location was the lack of lighting on that side of the house, so she could peer into the window, and no one would see her. Slowly she made her way, careful where she stepped, lest she trip and fall.
The fragrant scent from the flowers, practically invisible in the darkness, guided her way. Finally she reached the windows, light shining from within due to the large chandelier in the center of the room, along with candles placed throughout the space. In order to get close enough to see, she would have to practically climb through bushes.
Hoping her gown would not tear, or show signs of her traipse amongst the foliage, she eased her way through the shrubbery and bent her knees to peer into the window.
…
Devon watched Eugenia from his hiding place behind the potted plant in the dim corner of the ballroom. Thank goodness it was dark, or someone might have spotted him, and coming up with an explanation for his odd behavior would be difficult.
Lord knew he had a hard enough time explaining it to himself.
Eugenia had spent the time he’d observed her speaking with Lady Dumont. The woman’s mouth never stopped moving, but he noticed Eugenia’s attention was not engaged. Eventually, she said something to Lady Dumont and moved away from her. He backed up, even though he knew it was impossible for her to see him, and banged into something solid.
“Oh, I say, old man, I didn’t see you back there.” Lord Weatherby, old as the dirt on the ground, lifted his quizzing glass and studied him. “Looks like you’re hiding, eh?”
“No, not at all. Just taking a breather from the crowd.” Weatherby was a nosy old goat. Why did it have to be him he’d run into?
He straightened his jacket and smiled wanly as he looked around the man to see Eugenia walking toward the corridor. Then all of a sudden, she turned and headed back the way she’d come, easing her way through the throng.
What the devil?
Old Weatherby moved right into his view. “Excuse me, Weatherby, I see Lord Falcon, with whom I must speak.” He tried to go around the man, but Weatherby moved to the same side Devon moved. Devon switched, so did Weatherby. They danced back and forth like a couple of boxers until Weatherby said, “Stand still, man. You young people are always in a hurry.”
Frustrated, Devon cut a wide circle around the man, banging his knee on the stone vessel holding the plant. “Ouch.”
“See. Always in a hurry,” Weatherby said as he ambled off, leaning heavily on his cane.
Devon rubbed his knee as he continued to watch Eugenia weave her way back from whence she’d come. It appeared, after being stopped a few times, she was headed to the French doors. After a furtive look around, she opened the door and slipped outside.
Bloody hell! Had she made an assignation? Why else would she be sneaking into the garden by herself?
It took some time, but eventually he made his way through the gathering and out the door. With no moon, it was hard to see, but he fumbled down the steps and listened. Nothing. Where had she gone?
He took the path toward the front of the house where all the carriages sat. Perhaps
she was meeting someone there to be whisked away to a love nest. His stomach muscles tightened.
A thorough search of the carriage area did not turn up anyone other than drivers playing cards, waiting for their masters to send for them. He rested his hands on his hips and looked back toward the patio.
Eugenia might have gone down the path that wandered around the back of the house. With no lighting on that side, it would be difficult to maneuver, but also a perfect spot for a tryst.
Yes. That must be where she’d gone. Perhaps her lover met her right outside the door, and together they took a leisurely walk in the darkness. Why right now, they could be…
Anger coursed through him, setting his heart to thumping. Determined to find them and give the man a good thrashing, he pulled on the cuffs of his jacket and, shoulders back, headed toward the darkness.
The path was not easy to maneuver. Carefully, he walked over the stones, finally able to see a bit more with the lighting from the card room. Ahead, he saw a figure back out from the bushes near the window. He’d found them!
Fisting his hands by his sides, he marched up to his wife, whose back was to him. She seemed to be brushing off her gown, and rearranging her hair. He was a mere three feet from her when she turned and screamed. “My lord!”
…
Eugenia placed her hand on her chest and took a deep breath. Devon had scared her half to death. What in heaven’s name was he doing creeping around the dark garden?
“What are you doing in the dark garden?” Devon’s question came out before she could form the same words, still trying to catch her breath.
Her heart still pounding, she gasped, “Taking a walk.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “A walk? Through the bushes? You will be fortunate if you do not stumble and break a limb.”
Her legs felt so weak, there was a good possibility she would swoon.
“Eugenia, you look as though you will collapse at any moment.” He took her by the elbow and practically dragged her down the path to a stone bench where he deposited her. Pushing her head down, he said “Breathe.”
“It is quite hard to breathe, my lord, with my face plastered against my lap.”
He eased up a bit and, feeling a bit more composed and able to drag air into her lungs, she added, “It is nice and quiet out here. The ballroom was much too noisy.”
Devon waved at her head. “You have a leaf or something in your hair.”
“Oh.” She felt around, then plucked the sprig from her head and dropped it to the ground. Feeling more herself, she raised her chin. “And what are you doing out here in the dark garden, my lord?”
“Me?” He stared at her as if she asked him to recite all the kings and queens since the Norman Conquest. “Me?”
“You said you intended to go to the card room.”
“Indeed, I did.”
She tilted her head, awaiting his answer. If anyone looked guilty—and she was sure she did—it was Devon. Was he here in the garden to meet his paramour? Was he disappointed when he came upon her instead?
Devon reached out and pulled her up. Placing her hand on his arm he began to walk. “You are quite right, my dear. The ballroom is much too noisy. And crowded. And hot. As is the card room.”
They made their way back to the patio in silence. Feeling the beginning of a headache, she stopped their movement just as they reached the door to the ballroom. “I think I will call for our carriage, my lord. I am fatigued.”
He studied her. “I believe I will return home with you.”
Surprised at this unexpected turn of events, she allowed him to escort her through the crowded room. They were stopped a few times by friends and acquaintances along the way. Devon accepted an invitation to a hunting party at Lord Barrymore’s estate two weeks hence. Lady Barrymore assured Eugenia that his sister, Lady Agnes, who resided with him and acted as hostess for his parties, had arranged for plenty of entertainments for the ladies, as well.
A soft rain had begun to fall as they descended the steps to the carriage under the umbrella the footman held over them. Eugenia settled in the comfortable leather seat across from Devon, who stared out at the blackness.
What had he been doing in the garden? She did not intend to give up on her scheme, but she couldn’t help but believe Devon would soon have a new mistress upon whom to slake his baser needs. Needs that a proper lady should be repulsed by. If a man’s baser needs were some of the things she’d seen in her book, she couldn’t help feeling cheated.
Although reading her book and viewing the pictures had given rise to unfamiliar feelings in her middle and private parts, she’d had the opportunity to identify the warm feelings as her own passion the night she and Devon had made love differently than it had always been. When those same feelings arose from Devon’s touches, she knew that passion was definitely not something she would resist or be repulsed by.
In fact, now that she’d had the taste of it, she wanted more. If that made her an improper lady, then so be it. Her mother was not always right.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of their townhouse. Bellows immediately made his way down the steps carrying a large umbrella. He escorted Eugenia to the house, then returned for Devon.
Wondering if Devon would continue with his normal routine and visit her this night—since it was Thursday evening, she began her climb to the first floor.
Devon took her hand as she gained the first step. “My dear, I am weary myself this evening. You may enjoy your rest tonight.” He refused to look her in the eye as he mumbled his words.
She dipped her head. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Yes. Well, good night then.” He offered her a brief smile, hesitated for a moment, then made his way toward the library.
“Good night.” She trudged up the steps and slowly walked to her bedchamber, entered the room, and cast her reticule on the bed. She slipped out of her wrap and rang for Sally. Why couldn’t she be the one to instigate coupling? Was there some rule that said only men could decide when intimacy was appropriate?
Of course there were rules. She’d heard them all her life. Well, she was sick of rules that denied ladies passion and pleasure in the marital bed.
Chapter Fourteen
“Plans gone awry might turn into interesting opportunities.”
Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 36
Devon watched Eugenia climb the stairs, weariness in her every movement. He had the fierce desire to call her back, invite her to sit with him and enjoy a drink before retiring. But his suspicions and mixed feelings about marriage and gentle wives kept him from requesting such a simple thing.
How had matters gotten to this point? He’d caught her—alone—in the garden, and surprisingly, she seemed suspicious of his presence there. If she was not meeting a man, what the devil had she been doing climbing out of the bushes? And, furthermore, what the hell had happened to his sane, predictable life?
He filled his glass with a tad more brandy than he normally indulged himself and settled in front of the cold fireplace, staring at nothing. He faced a conundrum. He no longer had a taste for a mistress, because the one woman he desired was his wife, who he’d been raised to believe was a delicate flower who would shun anything beyond copulating for procreation only, while he feared said wife might very well be enjoying more than procreation copulating with someone else.
Once stated that way, he finished off his drink and went to bed, his head hurting.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you at breakfast, my lord.” Eugenia entered the bright breakfast room, a picture of English womanhood. She was dressed in a red light wool riding habit, a pert little hat resting on top of her head, with a feather sweeping from the top of the confection almost to her lips.
Her blond hair had been swept away from her face and anchored in a chignon at the back of her head. Devon stood. “Good morning, my dear.” He pulled out a chair for her and signaled the footman to bring a pot of tea. “I don’t have any appointments t
his morning, so I’m afraid I am a man of leisure until my secretary arrives this afternoon to deal with correspondence. Hopefully, my presence does not disrupt your normal routine.”
“Not at all.” Eugenia turned and thanked the footman, then poured the liquid into her cup. The crystal blue eyes that had taunted him the previous evening swept over the sideboard. “May I please have a boiled egg and a piece of toast?”
The footman filled her plate and sat it in front of her, then returned to his place against the wall.
Devon took a sip of his coffee and set the cup down. “It appears you are off for a ride this morning.”
“I am. It seemed like the perfect morning for one. I thought I would hie off to Rotten Row and give Jennie a good run.”
“Since I have nothing pressing, may I join you?”
Eugenia broke into a smile that warmed him all the way to his toes. Lord, the woman was beautiful!
“I would very much like that, my lord.”
Devon threw down his napkin. “Excellent. I shall change, and meet you at the mews.” He found himself whistling and smiling as he strode up the stairs to his bedchamber. He wasn’t used to spending time with Eugenia during the day. Most days he went his way and she went hers. Of late, of course, he seemed to be more drawn to her. Not just as a wife who was fulfilling her duties, but as a woman with a charming personality that drew him in. Someone whose company he favored.
Unlike his parents’ marriage. From the time he could remember, they were no more than a man and a woman living in the same house. They’d barely spoken to each other at dinner, went to separate events in the evening, and spent no time together during the day. He was now beginning to wonder if the example they’d set for him was what he truly wanted and needed for himself.
Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 14
