Page 63 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

As the man continued to ply them both with brandies, along with stories of the various mistresses he’d had, comparing each one’s assets, Devon grew more and more despondent.

Eventually, having had enough conversation, Devon downed the last of his drink and stood. “Let’s just do this.”

Cahill hopped up and slapped him on the back. “Ah, I can see you’re anxious. No doubt you will wear Isabella out since you’ve been without a mistress for so long. You owe me for this one, Devon.”

The woman’s house was in a part of town that housed several members of the demimonde. Margaret’s house had been only a few blocks over. As they made their way up the stairs, Devon felt as though he were marching to his death.

The door was opened by a butler who must have also served as a bodyguard, given the size and demeanor of the man. “My lords, the ladies are expecting you in the drawing room. If you will follow me.”

He led them down the corridor and opened a door, allowing them to precede him in. The room was lavishly done in reds and gold, reminding anyone who thought otherwise that the resident was no lady. The women reclined on two settees. Since Devon did not know Cahill’s paramour, he had no idea which one was Isabella.

Both women were dressed in scanty gowns, jeweled fingers, and face paint. Devon’s stomach clenched at the scent of strong perfume and the sultry look on the woman who must have been Isabella, given that she stood and walked over to him, her hand extended. “My lord. I am so very pleased you stopped by to visit.”

Devon took her hand. Soft and silky. Plump with jewels. Once again his stomach rebelled. “It is my pleasure.”

Not true at all, of course. He began to sweat as he took in his surroundings, and the lecherous look on Cahill’s face as he eyed Isabella. Cahill nodded and winked.

What the hell am I doing here?

Isabella moved closer and ran her hands up his chest to encircle his neck. She cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth to hers.

Chapter Nineteen

“Sometimes if nothing else works, one must take drastic measures.”

Secrets of the Bedchamber, p. 121

Eugenia climbed the stairs to her bedroom with her head held high, her chin raised. Her back was as straight as the board her mother used to strap to it for days on end as a young girl. She walked with the grace and gait her mother had insisted upon. The switch that had landed on her legs when it wasn’t quite right had left marks she could still see in bright sunlight. Anytime Eugenia had failed to meet Mother’s expectations, she’d spent the night in her room with no dinner. And at times, no breakfast the next morning, either.

She turned in a circle and examined her bedchamber. Perfect. Everything in its place, all her perfume bottles lined up, according to height. Just as Mother had demanded. Except for the few gowns she’d bought recently, everything in her wardrobe had been approved by Mother. Proper, modest gowns. Gowns that proper, modest ladies wore.

Ladies who expected nothing from marriage but money and position. Clothing and jewels. Parties and balls. Children who would be raised by nannies and governesses. Sons who would be sent off to school when they were still mere children.

A husband who would find satisfaction in the arms of a kept woman while his wife lay in her cold empty bed each night.

She dropped her reticule on the dressing table and removed her earrings, laying them gently on the polished wooden surface. Placing both hands on either side of the perfectly lined-up perfume bottles, she leaned over and watched with fascination as one teardrop fell to the table. Then another one. Three more.

She had lost. She’d tried her be

st, but she’d lost.

Rage as she had never known in her life swept over her, drying her tears and practically doubling her over. She stormed to her bed and removed the book from under the mattress. With a scream that most likely would bring all the servants running, she threw the book across the room. When it bounced against the wall, she picked it up and chucked it into the cold fireplace, shouting words she didn’t even know she knew.

With three strides—in a most unladylike way—she was across the room and ringing for Sally. While she waited, she threw open the doors to the wardrobe and pulled out every single item of clothing, tossing them on the bed.

“My lady. Is everything all right? I thought I heard a scream.”

Eugenia turned to Sally. “Everything is fine.” She pointed to the fireplace. “First, I want you to burn that book. Then I want you to pack everything up. We are leaving tonight for Devonshire.”

“Burn the book? Leaving for Devonshire? My lady, can I get you a tisane? Perhaps a hot bath and a lie-down?”

Eugenia gritted her teeth. “No. No tisane, no hot bath, no lie-down. We are leaving tonight, Sally. Forget burning the book. Just pack my clothes while I arrange to have a carriage readied for the trip.” She left the room, shoulders back, once more The Ice Queen.

“Bellows, please arrange for a carriage to drive to Devonshire.”

The aged butler, always the proper servant, gave a short bow. “Of course, my lady. What time in the morning shall I have the vehicle ready?”

Eugenia sailed past him on her way to the library. “Now. I wish to leave now.”