“Very true,” he said. “If the passion between you has been lost, perhaps something new would ignite it once more. When was the last time you took Eleanor on holiday?”
“It has been too long.” The dock was in sight and we stopped rowing, allowing the boat’s momentum to propel us forward. The thought of being with my wife was comforting. Comfort and passion were two different things. With Flynn, I would be doing things I’d once done many years ago. It had been enjoyable touching him and having him touch me. Would the experience be the same, or had I built it up in my head? “Hypothetically speaking, if I did consider such an arrangement, you would be the logical choice.”
Eleanor would be appalled, or I assume she would anyway. She was traditional in many ways, and it had taken years for her to express her needs. As a lady, she had been told by her parents to follow her husband’s lead and not explore her desires. What Flynn was proposing would be very outrageous, and I wasn’t even sure what the logistics would be. The very thought of Flynn and me together with Eleanor made my cock rise to the occasion. I couldn’t fathom we were having this conversation, yet we were.
“I am not sure if it would be good for our friendship,” he said.
“Or my marriage. She might scorn us for our peculiarities.” I hadn’t followed through with my latent desires because I would never betray Eleanor like that. I was a conformist at heart and often dismissed my personal needs for the greater good.
He shrugged. “She might or she might not.”
“If you can gain her concession, I wouldn’t be averse.” I was sure I did, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see where this would lead. My practical side said to agree simply to put the conversation to rest. Eleanor would never agree therefore it was safe to say yes.
“Me? Why do I have to gain her concession?” He snapped his head around, amusement quirking his lips. “Wait, I know why. If she is appalled, you can claim innocence and she will scorn me.”
I grinned. “Exactly. She already thinks you are a degenerate. You might as well live up to your reputation.” Encouraging Flynn might be the most foolish thing I ever did, but I tended to be overly cautious. My life was boring, and I needed some excitement. I sensed Eleanor was bored as well. Flynn always excited me with his enthusiasm. If she said no, I would tuck this idea into the back of my mind and never follow through. I loved and admired Flynn as my friend. Eleanor was my everything.
Chapter Eight
Lord Flynn, Earl of Larsson
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening. Lord and Lady Smythington are expecting me.” I entered the duke’s London residence and removed my hat, addressing the butler. After our morning row, I wasn’t able to forget our conversation. Bringing up the concept of a ménage with Rex had initially been in jest, yet he took me seriously. In the end, he challengedmeto instigate the affair. Not bloody likely.
The idea wouldn’t go away, despite being doomed to failure. Eleanor had been impulsive in her youth. She was no longer a girl under her father’s strict thumb.
“I am afraid his grace has yet to return home. Her grace is in the drawing room,” the butler told me. I had a long-standing open invitation to their home and they to mine, thus I nodded and headed in that direction.
Violin music echoed in the hall, a haunting tune played by a master’s hand. Eleanor was an exceptional musician. The maid opened the door, and light spilled out into the darkened hallway. Tall windows were lined with tasseled drapes. Soft blue walls and cream-colored furniture made the room feel regal. Everything reflected Eleanor.
Sitting on a chair with her back to me, she had a stand in front of her with sheet music. I slipped behind the pianoforte,watching her while I sat on the bench. We often played together, although she was a leap above my skills.
Her ginger hair shone in the light, and her back and shoulders under a white shirtwaist, moved with the effort of playing her instrument. She had been the most beautiful woman in the room when I first met her. She still was. The years fell away every time I saw her. But she belonged to Rex. No, not belonged. ShechoseRex. I had picked Mary to wed because of her sensible nature.
The second my fingers settled on the keys and began to play, Eleanor twisted around in her seat. Surprise faded, and a smile transformed her face. Stunning blue eyes the color of dusk, were lit with welcome. The two instruments played harmoniously, my fingers finding the right notes until we reached a crescendo. I lifted my hands with a theatrical flourish. “Brava,” I said with a teasing grin.
“Bravo to you as well.” She settled the violin on its stand. Sitting beside her was a sherry decanter and a half-finished glass of ruby wine. “I am afraid Rex isn’t home yet.”
“I suspected as much. He said he had to rearrange his schedule to accommodate tomorrow’s big proposal.” I strode around the pianoforte, more nervous than I should be. I had no intention of broaching the subject of a ménage, yet I was tempted. “Where is the rest of the family?”
“Harry is in the bath since he spent all day digging up my flower beds. Anne and Nigel are at the opera with Olivia and I am here awaiting my husband. Again,” she said with a light laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
I wished I could say something to comfort her, however, short of Rex being home, nothing could be done about it. “It is for a good cause.”
