He was also a gentleman. He couldn’t raise her skirts and spend inside her, and then send her down to dinner. Louisa was a lady, still so very innocent. She deserved better than a breathless debauching from a man she barely knew.
How would he survive sitting next to his beautiful wife when he longed to bury his face between her knees?
His rigidly tempered passions were spiraling out of control. For years, he had guarded himself from his lineage of vice and dissipation. He had navigated the narrow path laid out for him. His union with Louisa, which he had carefully planned and skillfully executed, was never meant to be more than a marriage of convenience, yet she lured him from that path and made him want todeviate.
She made him want to install plumbing in his ancestral home!
His mother would be horrified at the idea. His late father would’ve laughed until he wheezed, and likely pinched Louisa’s bottom—but the older generation no longer controlled Granborough. It was up to Giles and Louisa to carry that torch, and his modern marchioness tempted him into embracing more than just the future…
A weaker man would’ve taken her to bed. Giles took her to dinner, instead.
They met their usual party at one of the long, rectangular tables beneath the stained glass dome. He shook hands with Mr. Meyer, who confessed to losing an eye-watering sum playing poker with the San Francisco card sharp over the last few days.
“You were wise to avoid the play, Granborough,” said the man, jovially. He went as far as to thump Giles on the shoulder. “You may wish to join us in the smoking room tonight, as I intend to win it all back.”
Fortunes could be made and lost at the card table, but it was far more entertaining watching someone else risk the blunt.
“I’ll be there,” said Giles, taking his seat.
Beside him, Louisa shared a few breathless words with Madame de Roubernon. The two ladies, along with Mrs. Meyer, laughed, blushed, and tittered amongst themselves at what must’ve been rather juicy gossip.
Two new additions joined their ranks, and the table rose to welcome an older English couple, Sir Julius and Lady Sitwell.
“How do you do?” The gentleman bowed.
His wife curtseyed to the Granboroughs. “My lord, my lady.”
Giles was delighted to meet his fellow countrymen. He hoped to give Louisa a taste of the society she would enjoy in her new homeland.
As they settled back into their seats, Lady Sitwell took an immediate interest in the young marchioness, complimenting her velvet frock. “That shade of peach matches the flush on your cheeks.”
With a wink, Mrs. Meyer explained, “Honeymooners, ma’am.”
“Oh, you clever creatures!” Lady Sitwell reached for her champagne. “You are to be congratulated!”
They lifted their glasses in a toast, with Sir Julius announcing, “You’ve your lives ahead of you now.”
As they drank, he heard Madame de Roubernon whisper, “It’s true, Louisa. You are glowing. You look like a young woman who has found herself.”
A curious fog lifted from his head, and Giles vaguely remembered Louisa being angry with him about the worldly Frenchwoman. He had waltzed and flirted with Madame, yet had never dreamed of taking the experience further. In his drunken misery, he’d allowed Louisa to believe he had behaved improperly—so why were the two women so friendly now?
He leaned behind Louisa’s back to address the lady. “You’re awfully chummy with my wife all of a sudden.”
“Why not?” asked Madame de Roubernon, sipping her champagne as though she’d accomplished some great coup. “Lady Granborough is a bright young woman with a fighting spirit.”
Louisa looked at him and smiled. Oh, yes, there had definitely been something cooking up between them, and it was disconcerting to feel he had been managed in some way.
His pretty wife gazed at him over the rim of her glass. Her eyes sparkled as though she harbored a glorious secret. She edged toward him, brushing their knees, as the white-jacketed waiters served oysters from an ice-laden tray. The sumptuous velvet of her skirts rasped the wool of his evening trousers, and that brief connection juddered his nerves. Her slightest touch sent his heart racing.
Louisa blinked slowly, her lashes heavy and cheeks flushed. She barely followed the conversation buzzing around them, instead taking an oyster from her plate, lifting it to her lips, and swallowing in one languid gulp.
He didn’t even know she fancied oysters, though his wife was a woman of surprises.
Giles recalled how sweet she had been to him that morning, comforting him when she knew he didn’t feel well. Touching him, when last night she’d decreed that he didn’t have the right to lay a hand onher.
She was a good wife and a kind woman. She did not deserve to become entangled in this web of lies that he, his family, the Herberts, and their awful society had woven.
In a bold move, he reached for her beneath the table. Giles found her gloved hand and laced his fingers with hers. He squeezed her palm and flexed his knuckles in a familiar rhythm—a heartbeat, a thrust.
