Once she entered the corridor, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She was being absolutely silly. Devon was in there, playing cards or billiards. The sound of men’s voices alerted her that the two pocket doors to the billiard room had been left open. It would be an easy thing for her to stroll by, glance in, and be on her way. She slowed her steps and, as if she were taking the morning air in the garden, she wandered past the opening.
No Devon.
’Twas not possible. Stiffening her shoulders, she licked her dry lips and wandered back the way she’d come.
No Devon.
She forced herself to take another deep breath and decided to give it one more pass, since now she feared one of the men would look up from his game and see her. As slowly as she could, she paced her steps one more time, her eyes scanning every corner of the billiard room.
No Devon.
The blood drained from her head so fast, black dots appeared. She gripped the wall next to the room.
“My lady, are you in need of assistance?” A burly footman, dressed in the blue and gold livery of Barrymore approached her, his brows furrowed.
“No. I am fine.” She offered a strained smile. “I feel quite fatigued and am just going to my bedchamber to take a lie-down.”
“May I call a maid to assist you upstairs?”
“No.” She waved her hand. “I will be fine. But thank you for the offer.”
With leaden legs she left him and made her way up to the second floor, where the bedchambers were located. Earlier in the week, she’d seen Lady Abernathy leaving her assigned room. Eugenia counted the doors until she reached the one she knew to be the wicked woman’s bedchamber.
Eugenia pressed her ear against the door. No sounds. No panting, or moaning, or groaning, or headboard banging against the wall. She held her breath so even that did not interrupt her hearing.
Nothing.
She blew out a relieved breath and smiled to herself. Obviously, Lady Abernathy was not entertaining Devon in her room. With a lighter heart, she continued down the corridor until she reached her own bedchamber. Closing the door quietly, she toed off her slippers and padded across the thick carpet to the cushioned bench in front of the window.
The scant moonlight lit the garden beneath her, casting the early summer flowers in an eerie glow. She drew up her knees and rested her chin. She closed her eyes, breathing in the lovely scent from the flowers below the open window.
Within seconds she jolted and jumped up. Just because there was no sound in Lady Abernathy’s room did not mean she and Devon were not together.
In fact, she still had not resolved the issue of exactly where Devon had hied off to. How could she be so stupid as to forget that little fact? Just then a sound came from Devon’s room. Her eyes grew wide and her heart began to pound once more.
Would he be so bold as to entertain the strumpet in his own room, with his wife right next door?
He might if he thought I was still downstairs drinking another gallon of tea and listening to mind-numbing gossip.
Anger flooded her, and she marched over to the door, then stopped with her hand on the latch. As much as she wanted to discover if her thoughts were true, she certainly did not want to burst into the room while they were in flagrante.
She lowered her hand and pressed her ear against the door.
…
Devon counted his steps as he paced once more in his chamber and ran his fingers through his hair. God, for two cents he would grab Eugenia from the harpies gossiping downstairs and leave for home now. The few glasses of brandy he’d consumed as he waited for this interminable evening to end had done nothing to dull his irritation. Lady Abernathy had been beyond persistent and had even accosted him in the billiard room, pretending to need his assistance for some surreptitious reason. The only way he’d been able to escape her was to feign a headache like some swooning debutante and retire to his chamber.
After Jake had helped him remove his clothes, Devon had shrugged into a green and yellow striped silk banyan and had begun wearing out the carpet in the room, his thoughts in disarray.
In addition to the annoyance he’d suffered throughout the entire house party, he still wrestled with his feelings toward Eugenia and the issue of a mistress. If he could get past his concerns with how a wife should be treated in the bedroom, there was still that niggling doubt in his mind about the change in Eugenia and the possibility of her paramour.
The party members were all leaving the next morning. It could not be soon enough for him. Although, truth be known, returning to London held no appeal either. He feared he was turning into a crotchety old man, for all he wanted to do was return to his country estate with his wife at his side and look forward to perhaps a child or two.
He’d even become disenchanted with the Parliamentary bill he’d been so enthused to present. Eugenia had been right. Making life more difficult for those who already suffered was not gentlemanly. Should only the wealthy be considered worthy of the government’s regard?
Confused and frustrated, he returned to the small table near the window to pour himself another drink. He paused when a noise coming from Eugenia’s chamber caught his attention. Slowly, he placed the brandy container back on the table. He turned slightly and tilted his head, listening. It had, indeed, sounded like someone was in her room.
Of course, it could be Sally, but if the maid was in Eugenia’s room, then perhaps she was there as well. It would be nice to have her all to himself for a while. Perhaps they could share a brandy. He strode to the door and turned the latch, pulling the door toward him.
“Oh!” Eugenia gasped as she tumbled to the floor at his feet in a heap of blue muslin, causing him to stumble backward as her body hit his knees.
“Eugenia, are you all right, dear?” Devon recovered his stance and bent to help her up. “What were you doing?”
Her face a bright red, she accepted his assistance, shook out her skirts, smoothed her hair before speaking. “I was…” She hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “I was…oh, is that brandy? May I join you?”
A bit taken aback, since once again his very unflappable wife appeared unsettled, and he could not remember ever having to help her up from the floor, he glanced quickly at the brandy decanter. It hit him then that he had helped her up from the ground when Jennie had thrown her a couple of weeks ago. He shook his head in confusion.
“Yes, I would love for you to join me.” Still unsure if she was truly recovered from her fall, he took her by the elbow and escorted her to one of the two chairs.
“I thought perhaps you would still be downstairs with the other ladies.” He grinned as he handed her a glass and took the seat next to her. “Or are you as ready to be done with the party as I am?”
“I believe I am.” She raised the brandy to her lips and took a delicate sip, her body shuddering as she swallowed.
“There is sherry, if you prefer?”
“No. This is fine.” She smiled and set his heart to thumping. “It does take some getting used to, does it not?”
“Indeed.”
The silence that fell was rife with tension, as compelling as a thunderstorm. With the bed so near, and her usual perfect appearance rumpled from her fall, his thoughts continued to wander toward places they should not go. It would not be the done thing to grab one’s wife and toss her onto the bed like a bit o’muslin.
Although Eugenia seemed to have settled down from her inelegant entrance, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing erratic. He noticed with a start that she’d finished the small amount of brandy he’d poured her. Besides the rosy cheeks, her body relaxed in the chair, unlike her usual rigid stance.
“Would you care for another brandy?” Fully expecting her to decline, once again she took him by surprise when she held her glass out to him. Would she continue to surprise him? Or had she always been so different but had hidden her true self so well? Had The Ice Queen truly been a misnomer?
“Yes, please.” He swore s
he giggled.
He finished his in a gulp and took her glass. “As much as I am ready to leave tomorrow, I find myself somewhat reluctant to return to London,” he admitted. He handed her the glass and once again settled in his chair.
Her eyebrows rose. “Truly?”
Swirling the liquid, he stared at the brandy. “I fear I desire to be a country mouse.” He studied her over the rim of his glass. Golden curls had started to slip from her coiffure, and her cheeks grew more flushed with each sip of brandy. He watched in fascination as she toed off her slippers and tucked her elegant feet under her bottom.
Attempting to distract himself from the thought of that lovely derriere, he asked, “Would you miss London terribly if we spent more time in Devonshire?”
“Not at all,” she hastened to answer. “After three Seasons, I admit the entire routine has become tiresome.”
He grinned. “Perhaps we are reaching our dotage.” Surprised to see his glass empty once again, he placed it on the floor at his feet and turned to her. He was not in need of more brandy; what he needed sat directly in front of him. Her lips were moist; the positon of her body on the chair pulled her muslin gown so it outlined her lovely body. He’d always thought her attractive but never realized how truly beautiful Eugenia was.
Before giving his action full thought, he stood and extended his hand to her. Rising, she gazed up at him and took his hand. He removed her now empty brandy glass from her grip and placed it on her chair. “You take my breath away, Eugenia.” The back of his fingers slid down her soft skin, his palm cupping the back of her head, bringing her lips to his.
The very air around them electrified as he crushed her soft body to him. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his tongue gliding along the seam of her lips until she opened and he swept in. Heat, brandy, and another hint of something Eugenia. His hold tightened, and a soft groan escaped from within his chest.
Her delicate hands inched up his arms, and he longed to be free of their clothing so he could feel her silky skin against his. She encircled his neck, stepping even closer so he could feel her heart pounding against him, in rhythm with his own. “Let me love you, Eugenia.”
“I am much too dressed, my lord,” she breathed softly.
He moved back, the passion in her half-lidded eyes forcing all his blood to his cock, rendering him unable to do any more than stare at her. Her cinnabar lips, plump from his kisses, her flushed cheeks, and the tip of her pink tongue licking her lips almost brought him to his knees.
“Yes. I agree. You are much too dressed.” He spun her around and quickly undid the numerous fastenings on her gown, shoving the garment off her shoulders and to the floor. Unlacing stays had never gone as quickly, as he loosened them barely enough to push the annoying item to the floor on top of her gown, rapidly followed by her chemise and stockings.
He should slow down and not overwhelm her sensibilities, but Lord help him, she certainly didn’t seem in any way overset. She tugged on his belt, released it, and shoved the banyan off his shoulders. He pulled her to him, his large hands spanning her slender back as he scattered kisses along her jaw, her neck, and the soft shell of her ear.
He scooped her up and took the few steps to the bed. He laid her gently on the counterpane and followed her down, resting part of his body on hers. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Eugenia consumed him. Her scent, her touch, her taste, the soft moans she made as he breathed softly into her ear, mumbling words of her beauty, her tempting body, and how much he desired her.
Things he had never said to her before.
Eugenia shivered as he stroked her breast, fingering her nipple, bringing it to a hard point. His mouth followed, and he suckled, smiling with satisfaction as she wrapped her hands around his head and drew him closer, gasping his name. With his mouth busy, his hands caressed her curves, dipping into her waist, rising over her hip, kneading the muscles of her lush bottom.
When her hand made its way between them and she gripped his cock, rubbing her thumb over the moist tip, he thought he would disgrace himself and come in her hand. How was it that his gently bred wife had the ability to turn him into an uncontrollable reprobate? It had been years since he’d felt such a craving for a woman.
Clutching his cock, she began to slide her fist up and down, until he could no longer stand not being inside of her. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and settled between her glorious thighs. Eyes closed, and with no effort, he slipped into her moist warmth, gritting his teeth to keep from exploding.
As he thrust, then pulled out to thrust again, Eugenia began to thrash on the bed, her legs restless, tossing her head back and forth. Was it possible she was nearing a climax so quickly? Eugenia’s movements were certainly telling.
Devon kept up the rhythm, and soon Eugenia had joined him, and they worked in tandem until she screamed out, and in shock, he poured himself into her, his entire body shaking as his wife dug her nails into his flesh and let out with another cry and a final thrust against him.
Chapter Eighteen
“It is a wise woman who does not believe everything she hears.”
Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 114
Devon rested his forearm against his eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight streaming through the window alongside his bed. Jake had just pulled back the drapes, reminding him it was morning, time to leave the party, and time to face what he’d been pushing from his mind for weeks.
Eugenia’s sudden change in behavior could be attributed to only one thing.
A lover.
There was no other explanation for her complete change in dress, demeanor, and the marriage bed. Her brother’s idea could be stretched only so far. And that theory would never cover her behavior last night. As wonderful and fulfilling as the previous night’s sexual activity had been, he’d lain awake for quite a while afterward, with Eugenia curled into his body, her soft warm bottom pressed against his side. Unable to sleep and after hours of his mind torturing him with images of Eugenia in the arms of another man, flushed with passion as she’d been with him, he gently woke her and carried her to her own bed.
I should just ask her.
He immediately dismissed that idea. Lovers and mistresses were never discussed between husbands and wives. It was simply not done. Those arrangements were discreet and never bandied about.
Another ton rule.
If he were wrong—and there was always that slight chance—she would most likely faint from embarrassment and take to her bed for days.
“I have everything packed, my lord. As soon as you have a wash and dress, I will instruct the footmen to carry your trunk to the carriage.” Ever the efficient valet, Jake laid out shaving equipment and clothing for his master as he spoke.
Unable to delay any longer, Devon rose and allowed Jake to minister to his morning ablutions. With a heavy heart, he left the room and took the stairs to the breakfast room. Eugenia sat at the table, listening intently to whatever tale Lord Barrymore regaled her with. He stopped and looked at her.
The perfect wife.
She sat straight in the chair as if a sword were attached to her spine. Her hair tucked securely into a chignon at the back of her neck caught the sunlight, turning the blond tresses to gold. Her blue and white traveling dress fit her perfectly, a demure and proper outfit. As she listened to Barrymore talk, she didn’t fidget or cast her eyes around the room, but gave her host complete attention.
She had him tied in knots, and he had no idea where they could go from here. When he brought up returning to Devonshire she had seemed happy enough to do so. Would her lover follow her there? Is that why she’d been amenable to that plan?
“Good morning, Lord Devon.” Lady Agnes called, causing Eugenia to twist her neck to smile brightly at him. And his heart came to a standstill. She was genuinely lovely, and she was his.
But was she truly?
Devon fixed a plate of kippers, eggs, and toast. He settled across from Eugenia, who was once again held c
aptive by Lord Barrymore. Reconciled to listening to Lady Everest on his left side, who shouted all her questions and answers since her hearing had deserted her decades ago, he ate his breakfast.
The ride home was uneventful. Devon spent most of his time riding his horse, with Eugenia in the carriage. Whenever he passed the window of the vehicle, he glanced down to see her staring into space, even though she had a book open on her lap.
He had no idea what possessed him, but when they stopped for the night, he secured two rooms.
“You look weary, my dear.” Devon studied her across the table as they ate dinner. The lovely lamb stew and fresh bread had tempted him, but apparently Eugenia was unaffected by the repast. She pushed her food around her plate, letting out with a sigh every once in a while.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
She smiled at him. A sad smile, one that touched his heart and made him want to gather her up, toss her in the carriage, and head for Devonshire. Away from London, away from the ton, and all it represented, and all it smothered him with.
Smothered?
Yes. That is precisely how he felt. All the rules, things he’d believed and embraced his entire life, no longer seemed right.
“Perhaps I am a bit weary. It was a rather tedious week.” She stabbed a piece of lamb with her fork, but instead of lifting the implement to her mouth, she dropped the fork on the plate. “I believe I will retire.” She wiped her mouth on the napkin and moved to stand.
He jumped up to assist her. “That is for the best, my dear. It will be only a few hours on the road tomorrow, so perhaps you should lie in for a while in the morning.”
She merely shook her head and left the room.
Devon pushed his plate away and stared morosely out the window, the rain falling steadily, beads of water sliding down the glass. The gloom of the evening mirrored his own mood.
Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 18
