He’d given her what he could, but it wasn’t enough. For Louisa,hewould never be enough.
Giles felt a deep, aching guilt for marrying her. He’d known from that first night at the Vanderheid’s ball that she was everything he wanted in a wife, everything he’d needed in a woman, and utterly wrong for the deception he had planned.
She wouldn’t be satisfied with a title and would resent being dispatched to the countryside. Her money could make Granborough beautiful, and the children she gave him would make it a home, but she wasn’t the sort of girl who dreamed of peerages, estates, and quiet family life. Had she never met him, Louisa Thurston Reid might’ve gone to college, traveled, enjoyed her youth with her school friends, and settled down when she’d felt ready.
He’d stolen a bright future from a vivacious girl, and he hated himself for it.
What about Venia, his mistress? Giles retrieved her photograph from his greatcoat pocket. She was sophisticated, beautiful, and mature. He ran his thumb over the image of her heavy-lidded eyes and lush mouth.
He had only ever been with Lady Venia Herbert. Until his wedding night, when he’d shared his body with his innocent American bride, Giles had known no one but Venia.
His boyhood sweetheart had wanted nothing more than the life she’d been born for and the future she’d come to expect. She’d wanted a husband who could give her security, while Giles could offer her nothing but a title and two generations’ worth of debt. She desired houses, carriages, hunters, and jewels, all of which Giles had sold at the first opportunity. She wanted children, but not from Giles’ degenerate ancestry.
Lady Venia had chosen a husband who could grant her every tangible desire, and Giles didn’t blame her. He had simply adjusted his expectations and made the most of their stolen time together.
His lover was a married woman, which had never bothered him before—nor had it bothered anyone else in society, as marriages were arranged for practical reasons, and love was often found elsewhere.
Now that he had a wife of his own, however, the affair left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Fidelity might not matter to the Herberts, or to the ‘polite’ society in which they belonged, but it suddenly mattered very much to Giles. Perhaps he was coming around to the progressive, American way of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine standing aside while some fellow made love to Louisa.
He didn’t put Venia’s photograph back in his pocket. In fact, he wished she’d never sent it, for it felt caddish to carry the likeness of another man’s wife. Giles tossed the picture into his wardrobe trunk and slammed the lid.
It was time to stop chasing after Herbert’s wife and start appreciatinghis own.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
From the promenade deck, she’d gone downstairs to the purser’s desk. After speaking with the gentleman on duty, Louisa collected her jewels for the evening and headed to her stateroom.
She slipped into the empty sitting room, tossing her book and jewelry box onto the sofa. She unpinned her hat and shrugged out of her heavy coat, hanging them both on a peg. Louisa then passed through the suite of rooms toward the bedroom.
Her gloved hands, still stiff from the cold, reached for the knob and pushed open the door. She caught a glimpse of firm, bare thigh, and taut, round buttocks before she realized what she’d done.
She accidentally walked in on Lord Granborough pulling his under-drawers up over his thighs. “Oh! I am sorry! I didn’t realize you were here.”
He fastened the buttons at his waist. “Where else would I be?”
She shrugged. “You’re often away in the afternoons.”
“It’s hardly the afternoon, Louisa. The dressing bell has rung.”
“Is it as late as all that?” she asked. “I was too caught up in‘the Adventure of the Speckled Band’, and had to know how the story ended. The hour must’ve run away from me.”
“You needn’t justify yourself. Your time is your own to spend how you like.”
Lord Granborough seemed in no rush to don his trousers. He simply stood before her, bare-chested and bare-legged, with his feet braced apart as the ship rolled beneath them.
Louisa studied him. She’d never seen a man in such a state of undress. He was pale, lean, and muscular. His shoulders and chest were broad. His abdomen was flat. His knees, calves, and feet were masculine in a way she’d never expected.
No wonder mothers kept their daughters ignorant! The natural differences between men and women must be unfathomable to an untutored girl. Louisa was a wife, she’d coupled with this man, and still, his body surprised her.
“Where is your valet?” she asked.
“Sick, apparently. Today’s rough seas have done him in.” His Lordship watched her as she admired him, eventually asking, “Aren’t you going to ring for your maid?”
“Yes.” She remained rooted to the spot.
Louisa did not shy away from her husband’s body, though her cheeks warmed as she took him in. She’d seen paintings, statues, and sketches, yet here stood a work of art for her private viewing pleasure.
