It was a very good sight.
And yet, his gaze continued drifting not to the action—as it should—but to the small clock on his podium, so he could determine how much time was left until he could join Daria.
The memory of Daria as she’d been, draped in sapphire, his greatest temptation, distracted more than any forbidden fruit.
That deep blue silk shimmered like water, his wife, a veritable siren of the sea.
God, she’d been bloody exquisite.
“…I had it made for you…”
And while Argyll monitored his club, there were other rakes circling his wife, no doubt.
Prey draped in blue silk satin.
“…I had it made for you…”
It was a thought he’d not considered, and why he hadn’t—
Gritting his teeth, Argyll tossed back a dram. He grimaced at the fiery burn and welcomed the sting. But it didn’t have any more effect than water for how much it distracted.
He, the bloody Debauched Duke of Argyll, had imagined the worst fate to befall him in marriage was being so gauche as to lust after his wife.
But this? What’d become of Argyll, sinner of all sinners, had been something he couldn’t have foreseen.
He…cared about his wife more than he ought.
There it was.
With her gone and Argyll monitoring the club, he bloody missed her—not just her exquisite body, though his cock ached to have her now—but by the way she spoke to him as if he weren’t a duke, but simply a man. The macabre little folksongs she sang, while lying across his chest—in the morning. In the afternoon. She wanted to know how his business operated, and suggested improvements.
And he’d never known…a man and woman could do those things together. That there could be a relationship where passion raged, but quiet moments carried an even deeper level of intimacy.
Daria didn’t see in Argyll his title, club, or the luxuries he could bestow. The gowns.
She’d looked close enough to see the Poussin above his wall and pull stories from him about his past before he’d even realized what he was sharing.
And it was so bloody easy to speak with her.
And he didn’t know what to do with that.
He could acknowledge she was the only woman he wanted in his bed. That what if in time that changed? What if, as life had proven before, the novelty wore off, and ennui set in, and then…then, he’d truly become his father.
All Argyll’s late mother wanted, more than even her own children, was her husband’s love.
And to hurt Daria that way…?
He’d rather tug his own teeth out.
Argyll rubbed at the back of his neck.
“…I am in love with you for the man you are, Gregory…”
Why? Why should she love him?
“…You are a good man. A man who had a terrible father, but who became a great man because of it. Not a wastrel…”
He signaled the nearest server, the newest girl, a recent hire vetted by Kilburn. Argyll himself was behind her costume and role here at Forbidden Pleasures. As he’d anticipated, the plunging decolletage, sheer sleeves, and knee-length cut to the gold silk fabric put her at her best advantage. She approached with an invitation in her eyes and a sway to her hips that invited as much as promised.
