Page 27 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

He stared at her openmouthed. The sight of her in the wet chemise was burned into his brain, leaving him so flustered he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Your clothes are here in this room. Won’t you need them after your bath?”

“Right.” The devil take it, it was damned inconvenient sharing a room. “I will be all right for a while. Just enjoy your bath, and I will take mine when you are through.” He continued to babble as he backed up and finally hit the door.

Before she could say a word, he let himself out. As if a banshee chased him, he raced along the corridor, down the stairs, and into Wentworth’s drawing room. There he helped himself to a glass of brandy that he poured with still-shaky hands.

The liquid slid down his throat, burning as it hit his stomach. He poured a second glass and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the day. More clouds had gathered, and the rain had picked up once again. His clothes were damp, but he no longer felt chilled. The brandy and the sight of Eugenia practically nude had done quite a bit to warm him up.

He had to solve this dilemma. He was becoming much too lustful where she was concerned. She had not married him to be pawed all the time. She was his wife and deserved the utmost respect for her person and her body.

As the guests began to trickle into the drawing room for tea, he made a decision. As much as seeking another mistress held no appeal for him, he must, nevertheless, make some discreet inquiries as to who might be seeking a protector. It was either that or visit one of the many brothels in London to at least relieve himself of this pent-up frustration.

Then the vision of Eugenia in the gown he insisted she change last evening, with all that smooth, creamy skin exposed, popped into his mind. She was the one he wanted. And not in the way it had been with her since their marriage had begun.

Yes. He was a lecher. He wanted to ravish her.

Chapter Eight

“It is nice to have one’s dance card full when one’s husband requests a dance.”

Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 33

The Wentworth house party had come to an end. For as much as Eugenia had hoped sharing a room, and the lack of Sally’s help, would inspire Devon to do more than his usual impersonal, very proper interaction with her, nothing had changed. In fact, Saturday had come and gone, and he hadn’t touched her.

The first Saturday he’d missed since they’d married.

She had pondered her progress—or lack thereof—on the trip home. To the sound of wheels turning, harnesses jingling, and hoofs clopping along, she had considered the past few days. She knew she had disturbed him several times, but his will was strong. Either that or he found her unappealing.

Her stomach had clenched at the thought. No. She would never succumb to that despair. There had been enough reaction to her tomfoolery to know Devon had not been unaffected. Now that she understood passion—from reading, of course, drat that—Devon’s behavior during their stay at the Wentworth’s lent itself to encouragement. She merely had to read more of her book and come up with some new ideas.

Happy with her solution, she had picked up the volume of poetry she carried to read in public to pass the time.

Eugenia eyed the pile of invitations neatly stacked on her escritoire as she entered her sitting room the following Wednesday morning. After arriving home late the previous evening from the Browning musicale, Devon had offered a perfunctory kiss on her cheek, then quickly departed to visit one of his clubs.

At least she hoped that was to where he’d taken himself off. She’d tossed and turned for a few hours before she heard him moving around his bedchamber and speaking with Jake. Holding her breath to see if he would break with his habit and come to her—even though it was Tuesday—she finally fell into a fitful sleep after the noises ceased, and the door between his dressing room and her bedchamber remained closed.

When she studied herself in the mirror that morning, she’d looked tired and drawn. Perhaps a visit to her modiste would serve to perk her up. She would order another gown to scandalize her husband. Something in a color she’d never worn before. But the neckline could not be too low since she didn’t want to be ordered to change before they left. Unless, of course, he didn’t see her gown before then.

She smiled.

Two hours later, the pile of invitations had diminished a great deal. She’d accepted several and declined many more. She and Devon were very popular with the ton, and their presence at an event was sure to secure the hostess’s place in Society. They had made it a practice from the beginning to not accept more than one invitation an evening.

Truth be told, she was growing weary of the Season. The glamor and excitement had worn off even before Devon had plucked her from the throng of debutantes and made her his wife. She oftentimes dreamed of them retiring to Devon Manor in Devonshire to enjoy the countryside and perhaps raise a child or two.

Brief visits to London would be pleasant, but she had no desire to continue year after year with the stress of an incessant round of soirees, balls, and garden parties. She’d had her fill of the gossip, scandals, and arrogance of the aristocracy. When she had demurely suggested such a thing, Devon had reminded her of his obligations in Parliament. Being the perfect wife, she had agreed, and life continued on.

Tonight she and Devon were to meet Lord and Lady Bedford at the theater. She was looking forward to seeing Romeo and Juliet at Theater Royal Drury Lane. Mrs. W. West was making her first appearance of the Season as Juliet. Eugenia had enjoyed her performances before.

She glanced up as Devon entered her sitting room. “I am headed to White’s to meet with a few of the men I hope will support the bill I am sponsoring in Parliament. I believe we are headed to the theater tonight?”

“Yes. We are meeting Lord and Lady Bedford.” The Earl of Bedford and his countess had attended several events with them. Older by a good fifteen to twenty years, they appealed more to Eugenia than the silly young girls and dandies one met at so many social affairs.

“Excellent. I will be at home for dinner, unless you plan to have a tray in your room.”

Eugenia shook her head. “Perhaps I will ask Cook to have dinner later than usual so we can leave for the theater right after.”

“Wonderful idea.”