Page 62 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

“Yes. I am meeting Maria after the theater. I would be happy to send along a note to her to meet us at her house with her friend. What do you say?”

Eugenia counted every single heartbeat that pu

lsed in her throat as she waited for Devon to respond. Finally, after what seemed an age, he said, “All right. I’ll go with you.”

…

Devon was torn. He still had no desire to bed anyone other than Eugenia but, since the party at Barrymore’s estate, he found himself growing more depressed each day. Did she or did she not have a lover?

What else could possibly have influenced her enough to produce a change so dramatic over the past few weeks? She was definitely not the woman he’d married. Not that he had any complaints—well, aside from a gown or two she’d worn. Her newly awakened responses to his attentions, and the—well, there was no other word for it—flirting and seductive behavior mystified him and led him to only one conclusion.

A new mistress might soothe his ego. Yes. There it was. He was angry that Eugenia had turned to someone else for satisfaction.

Have I ever given her any satisfaction before she took the initiative?

That is not the point, he argued with himself. Proper ladies were supposed to be reluctant to do anything other than allow the most innocuous visits by their husbands. And gentlemen were to slake their passion on mistresses so as not to upset their wives’ delicate sensibilities. That had been drilled into him almost from the time he’d grown out of short pants.

He was beginning to think he was the one with the delicate sensibilities.

A few minutes after the curtain rose for the next act, Eugenia and Lady Beatrice entered the box. He smiled at his wife, but she merely offered him a brief nod and, with head held high and her back as stiff as a board, she took her seat and focused entirely on the play.

Although she had sat mesmerized during the first half of the show, this time she merely stared at the stage, not laughing when the lines were funny or commenting to Lady Beatrice as she’d done before.

Once the play ended, she stiffened when he took her arm in his to exit the theater.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Yes.”

He was puzzled by her manner, but perhaps she’d developed a megrim. They entered their carriage, and the vehicle set off. “I will be joining Cahill at our club for a few drinks after I leave you.” Devon spoke to the window of the carriage, since he was unable to look Eugenia in the eye as they traveled the road home.

When she failed to respond, he turned to her. The moonlight spilling through the window lit her pale face. Her chin was raised, and she avoided his glance. She sat like the lady he’d always known, her hands resting in her lap, her back straight.

Not wishing to pursue it, and trying to convince himself she was tired, or perhaps suffered from a headache, he turned once again to the window.

After the footman opened the door, Devon stepped out and offered Eugenia his hand. She took it, her hand cold as ice through her glove, and again failed to meet his eyes. Once they were in the house, he bent and offered her a kiss on her cheek. “I will see you in the morning.”

Again a curt nod, and she started up the stairs. He studied her until she disappeared down the corridor. Then, with a sigh, he returned to the carriage. “White’s.”

If he didn’t know better, based on Eugenia’s behavior on the way home, he would guess she had heard the conversation between him and Cahill. But she had gone with Lady Beatrice to the lady’s retiring room, and had returned after the play had resumed—several minutes after Cahill had offered his invitation.

Life had become difficult and frustrating. Once the Season ended it would be a relief to return to Devonshire.

Maybe for years.

He didn’t have to wait long once he’d settled in his seat at the club. A footman placed a glass of brandy in front of him when Cahill arrived. “Ah, glad you’re already here. I arranged to have Maria and Isabella—that is her friend—meet us in about a half hour. The ladies want to do some primping, it seems.” He grinned, and Devon felt as if he would bring up the little bit of brandy he’d consumed.

“You’ll like this one. She’s perfect for you, big…you know.” Cahill extended his hands in front of his chest.

Perfect for you.

Eugenia was perfect for him.

Cahill leaned farther in, motioning for Devon to do the same. “Isabella is very special. Has particular talents, if you know what I mean.”