For that first month before she got her menses, Gemma had prayed she would be with child. Because she refused to let her husband touch her ever again. Not without a fight. BecauseGemma had a plan. A plan that made her smile to herself each time she considered it.
Grovemont was off gallivanting around the world, no doubt thinking his absence would make her pliable and willing. He may have had the upper hand before he left, but upon his return, he would not find her turned into a meek woman willing to do his bidding. On the contrary, he would find a wife who had every intention ofdivorcing him.
A divorce would result in a scandal, of course. But Gemma no longer cared. Of course, she hadn’t told Mama or Griffin or Meredith yet. They would try to talk her out of it. But her mind was already made up. Which meant the less her family knew about her plans, the better. She’d have to tell them eventually, of course, so they could prepare themselves for the inevitable gossip, but she would wait for the right time.
She didn’t even care if she had to plead guilty to criminal conversation. A charge that would be tantamount to admitting she’d been with another man. She hadn’t, of course, but it would be worth everyone thinking she had to be free ofhim.
And other than the scandal, what would Grovemont care? The man had clearly never wanted their marriage. Had thought so little of it that he’d abandoned her. He should be happy that she would so easily agree to a divorce.
And now, she would finally have her chance to inform him of her decision. True to his behavior of only communicating with the servants, the ass had sent a note last week. One that indicated he would be arriving home soon. One that asked the servants to prepare his rooms. Gemma hadn’t even known about the note. She’d only discovered his plans after she asked Mrs. Howard why the housemaids were dusting in his rooms more frequently than they had before.
But no matter. She was done waiting around and wondering what Grovemont would do next. She intended to take the reins of their marriage and steer them firmly toward divorce.
Gemma stared into the looking glass. She was still tall, of course, but no longer lanky or awkward, and her breasts had filled out quite nicely indeed. The belle of theton, they called her these days. She was more popular than ever, and she’d used her power to keep Lady Mary from terrorizing the wallflowers. She’d become fast friends with Mary’s most coveted suitor, Lord Pembroke. Just this Season, Mary had finally given up on Pembroke and become betrothed to a long-suffering baron, who was no doubt fated to be even more long-suffering as Mary’s husband. But at least the unmarried ladies of thetonwere free to dance with the men of their choosing again.
Gemma dabbed a bit of her new favorite perfume behind her ears. If herhusbandwould not give her the common courtesy of informing her of his return, she would not give him the courtesy of telling him where she was when he arrived. She would go to her brother’s town house for the afternoon, and from there, she intended to go to the Monroes’ ball tonight.
O
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The first thing Lucian noticed when he entered his town house was the unfamiliar scent. It smelled like some sort of intoxicating perfume. A mixture of flowers and fruit and something indefinably…feminine.
The next thing he noticed was the flowers themselves. Ridiculous amounts of them. Crystal vases filled with them. Not in an ostentatious way, but in a tasteful yet lovely way. Had Gemma done that?
There were little things too—a new rug, an unfamiliar vase. All tastefully done with an eye to detail. Hmm. Were those Gemma’s work as well?
Leaving the trunks to the footmen, Lucian bounded up the stairs two at a time in search of Mrs. Howard. He found the lady in the doorway to his bedchamber, clearly overseeing the final details to ensure the rooms were ready for his return.
“There you are, Mrs. Howard.” He gave the woman a wide smile as she turned to face him.
“Your Grace.” She curtsied and an equally large smile lit up her familiar face. “Welcome home. We’re nearly finished here and?—”
“No need to hurry on my account. I intend to spend most of the afternoon in my study seeing to the correspondence I missed. I merely wanted to find you and tell you that I had arrived.”
“Might I say how well you’re looking, Your Grace?” Mrs. Howard said next, eyeing him up and down.
He bowed slightly. “Thank you, Madame. I do believe the sun agreed with me.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Howard replied.
He inclined his head toward the staircase. “Walk with me down to the study?”
The two turned and made their way downstairs as Lucian fired off two dozen questions about the house, London, his correspondence, the mews, the coaches, the other servants, the shopkeepers’ deliveries, and a number of other things he wondered about.
By the time they made it to his study, Mrs. Howard had answered all of his questions to his satisfaction.
“Thank you, Mrs. Howard,” he said, giving the lady a final bow. “I’ll take things from here.”
Mrs. Howard’s brow shot up in a disapproving manner. One Lucian was quite familiar with. It would take longer than fifteen months for him to forget his trusted servant’s most telling facial expression. The woman had known him since he was born.
“Don’t you want to know about yourwife, Your Grace? You haven’t asked so much as one question about her.” There was an unmistakable note of disapproval in her words.
“Oh, yes. How is she?” Lucian said absently, already rifling through the stack of correspondence he’d found atop the desk.
At Mrs. Howard’s silence, he glanced up. The housekeeper was staring at him with obvious judgement in her hazel eyes.
“You may want to ask heryourself, Your Grace.”
