Page 60 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

“I have everything packed, my lord. As soon as you have a wash and dress, I will instruct the footmen to carry your trunk to the carriage.” Ever the efficient valet, Jake laid out shaving equipment and clothing for his master as he spoke.

Unable to delay any longer, Devon rose and allowed Jake to minister to his morning ablutions. With a heavy heart, he left the room and took the stairs to the breakfast room. Eugenia sat at the table, listening intently to whatever tale Lord Barrymore regaled her with. He stopped and looked at her.

The perfect wife.

She sat straight in the chair as if a sword were attached to her spine. Her hair tucked securely into a chignon at the back of her neck caught the sunlight, turning the blond tresses to gold. Her blue and white traveling dress fit her perfectly, a demure and proper outfit. As she listened to Barrymore talk, she didn’t fidget or cast her eyes around the room, but gave her host complete attention.

She had him tied in knots, and he had no idea where they could go from here. When he brought up returning to Devonshire she had seemed happy enough to do so. Would her lover follow her there? Is that why she’d been amenable to that plan?

“Good morning, Lord Devon.” Lady Agnes called, causing Eugenia to twist her neck to smile brightly at him. And his heart came to a standstill. She was genuinely lovely, and she was his.

But was she truly?

Devon fixed a plate of kippers, eggs, and toast. He settled across from Eugenia, who was once again held c

aptive by Lord Barrymore. Reconciled to listening to Lady Everest on his left side, who shouted all her questions and answers since her hearing had deserted her decades ago, he ate his breakfast.

The ride home was uneventful. Devon spent most of his time riding his horse, with Eugenia in the carriage. Whenever he passed the window of the vehicle, he glanced down to see her staring into space, even though she had a book open on her lap.

He had no idea what possessed him, but when they stopped for the night, he secured two rooms.

“You look weary, my dear.” Devon studied her across the table as they ate dinner. The lovely lamb stew and fresh bread had tempted him, but apparently Eugenia was unaffected by the repast. She pushed her food around her plate, letting out with a sigh every once in a while.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

She smiled at him. A sad smile, one that touched his heart and made him want to gather her up, toss her in the carriage, and head for Devonshire. Away from London, away from the ton, and all it represented, and all it smothered him with.

Smothered?

Yes. That is precisely how he felt. All the rules, things he’d believed and embraced his entire life, no longer seemed right.

“Perhaps I am a bit weary. It was a rather tedious week.” She stabbed a piece of lamb with her fork, but instead of lifting the implement to her mouth, she dropped the fork on the plate. “I believe I will retire.” She wiped her mouth on the napkin and moved to stand.

He jumped up to assist her. “That is for the best, my dear. It will be only a few hours on the road tomorrow, so perhaps you should lie in for a while in the morning.”

She merely shook her head and left the room.

Devon pushed his plate away and stared morosely out the window, the rain falling steadily, beads of water sliding down the glass. The gloom of the evening mirrored his own mood.

…

Eugenia sat on her bed, watching the rain fall and wondering what it was she kept doing wrong. After last night, she was certain Devon would continue to behave as the lover he had been.

When he’d entered the breakfast room that morning, her hopes were high that things had changed between them. Although Lord Barrymore had kept her busy with a tale about his hounds—blasted man—she’d kept trying to end the conversation so she could turn her attention to her husband.

Not that it would have mattered. It became quite clear once they’d said their good-byes to their host and hostess that nothing had changed. Devon had treated her with the utmost respect and consideration. He assisted her into the carriage, telling her he would be riding his horse so she could enjoy the ride by herself.

Yes, indeed. Any hopes she’d had of doing something scandalous on the ride home died a painful death. No kisses, no touches, and no rustling of clothing while the countryside passed them by. Tears rimmed her eyes, but she refused to cry. She was made of sterner stuff, and would continue her campaign.

…

Two days later, she studied herself in her mirror, twisting and turning, admiring the sapphire blue gown with the lace on the neckline and at the edge of her sleeves. The color brought more depth to her eyes, and the light blue gross grain ribbon under the bodice, tying in the back, brought attention to her breasts.

They were headed to the theater, where they would meet Mr. Cahill and his wife, Lady Beatrice. The youngest son of the Earl of Denbigh, Mr. Cahill was not one of her favorite persons. He had made no secret of the fact that he’d married Lady Beatrice for her fortune. Not that it was not done, but he seemed particularly proud of the fact.

While a lovely young woman, Lady Beatrice, the eldest daughter of Viscount Harding, had an odd-shaped nose, which drew the eye of anyone speaking with her. Aside from that, she had beautiful hair and a nice form. Eugenia always enjoyed spending time with her, despite her husband. Although, truth be known, he was generally not in attendance when she’d seen Lady Beatrice.

In addition, Mr. Cahill was not very discreet when it came to his mistresses, which annoyed Eugenia even more.