* * *
Elliot
Sitting on a picnic blanket beside a quiet cove hidden along a long stretch of beach, Elliot couldn’t help but watch his wife and Peter interact. He’d been doing it all day, since they’d headed out of the house together after the arrival of the servants. He’d watched them walk at his side, her in the middle, their hands close together. Sometimes her fingers fluttered, like she wished to tangle them with Peter’s but something held her back.
Like holding his hand was more intimate or a betrayal in a way that letting Peter eat her pussy while Elliot watched wasn’t.
He’d watched them laugh and pick shells and play along the sand. It was like discovering a while new side to Merritt. One she very rarely showed when she was being proper marchioness and mistress of his household. No wonder Peter called her Merry. She was far more that bright emotion when the other man was near her.
A fact Elliot tried to accept rather than sting from. It was not an easy thing to do.
And now he watched as they worked together to gather up the remnants of the picnic they’d all just shared. There was an ease with which they moved and talked. They brought up old stories from their childhood and people they’d known and it was as if no time had ever separated them. Elliot found himself wondering what might have happened if they had never been so cruelly parted as younger people.
What would Merritt’s life had been like if she married a man she loved, rather than one she was forced to attach herself to? Peter had mentioned the poverty when the two men discussed that question days before…but what about the rest?
Would she have been happier as Mrs. Reid rather than Lady Egerton?
Elliot stung at the thought, and this time he made no effort to push that feeling away. He couldn’t, after all, because his life’s work in the last decade had been making his wife happy. Giving her whatever she needed.
Including Peter.
“You suddenly lookveryserious,” Merritt said, inching closer to Elliot on the blanket. She reached up to cup her cheek. “Where have you gone?”
He forced a flutter of a smile over his lips. “I was just thinking about the fact that in all the times you and I have gone to the Donville Masquerade to play, we’ve never seen Peter.”
Her eyes went wide. “Well, that is definitely an interesting subject matter. Perhaps Peter doesn’t have a membership to Donville.”
Both Elliot and Peter burst into laughter at that suggestion. The Donville Masquerade was London’s most scandalous hell. A place to game, yes. But also a place for pleasure and sin. Elliot and Merritt had gone many times, to watch the erotic games. And sometimes to participate.
“Of course I have a membership,” Peter said when he could manage to speak. “It istheplace to be for a profligate wanton like myself, my dear.”
She pursed her lips at their teasing. “Very well, you needn’t mock. Then my husband’s observation is actually true. We are regular attendees, so it does seem odd we hadn’t met there.”
Peter shifted on the blanket and Elliot tilted his head at the sudden discomfort that swept over his face. “Oh, it seems our esteemed Mr. Reid has something to say. A secret he’s keeping.”
“Can you read me so well, my lord?” Peter asked, meeting his gaze and holding there. “Am I so obvious to you now that you’ve had my mouth on you?”
Elliot shivered at the tension that now coursed between them. Instant and hot and with only one potential end in sight. One he very much looked forward to now that he’d felt it.
“You were obvious even before your lovely mouth was on me.”
“Reading people is what he does,” Merritt said softly. “Marking every little shift in breath and expression.”
“Andyoubenefit from it,” Elliot retorted, arching his brow to dare her to deny the truth of what he said.
She smiled slightly. “I never said I didn’t.”
“What Elliot has made note of, this secret he believes I have,” Peter said after a hesitation, “is that I…Ihaveseen you two at Donville. More than once.”
Elliot exchanged a brief look with Merritt and then together they both stared at Peter.
“I…” she said with a shake of her head. “What do you mean yousawus?”
“The first time was a handful of years ago,” Peter said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and tousling the blond locks so he now looked a little rakish. “I was there to play. In fact, I was there with a lady. And I looked across the room and there you two were.”
Elliot’s eyebrows shot up. “You and I knew each other by then—I’d been your patron for years. Why didn’t you approach us?”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “And do and say what? Say good evening to my former love interest and her husband, who held the keys to my financial position?” He chuckled. “No. I think not.”
