Page 8 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

He reached over and covered her hand with his own. “I love all of your gowns. They suit you.”

She groaned inwardly. “Precisely,” she muttered.

Devon frowned. “What did you say dear?”

She waved him off. “Nothing, just going over my schedule.”

If she were to have a new gown made in time for the Beresford’s ball two days hence, she must see her modiste quickly. This gown would be like no other she’d ever owned. After going through her wardrobe, it was plain all her gowns were expensive, well-made, and lovely. For a young unmarried woman. The time had come to change that.

They suit you. Therein lay the problem.

She’d found, aside from the scandalous drawings in her book, advice on how to secure the attentions of one’s husband—or any man, for that matter. Since her knowledge of men and marriage had been gained only from her strict governess and her impeccable mother, that sort of information had never been provided.

In the dark hours of the night, as she’d heard Devon return from his club, she had decided that due to Mrs. Forestor’s demise, she had the opportunity to have the kind of marriage she’d dreamed of as a little girl, before she’d been informed that her marriage would be no more than a business arrangement. She’d loved her romantic fairy tales with prince charming, and now she wanted her own.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Devon, who folded his newspaper and laid it alongside his plate. “Do you have plans other than the visit to your modiste?”

“Mother and I will be paying calls this afternoon.”

“Ah, yes. Do wish your mother well from me. Perhaps we should plan a dinner party sometime soon. I am sure Lady Clarendon would enjoy a quiet evening at her daughter’s table. Perhaps a few of her friends, as well.”

“That is a very good idea, my lord. I will see about it presen

tly.”

Despite her best intentions, she’d fallen in love with Devon even before they’d gotten married. He was tall, muscular, handsome, and charming. When they were courting and betrothed, he’d turned all that charm on her.

He’d escorted her to the usual balls, routs, theater, and opera, but he had also arranged to have fresh flowers delivered to her every few days with short notes, thanking her for her presence the evening before. He’d sent little gifts—ones acceptable to a lady one was courting: handkerchiefs, sweets, and posies. A very attentive betrothed, he’d also spent more time than was expected at her side during social events. Always solicitous about her welfare, Devon had made sure she never became fatigued or overheated at outdoor events. She’d always felt protected and cared for, and even thought she’d found her prince charming.

Alas, it seemed her prince charming had believed marriage was, indeed, a business arrangement. She’d spent many a night listening for his return from his mistress. Many a tear-shedding night. She knew passion and desire lay buried inside her. The little girl had wanted her knight in shining armor.

She would have it.

Devon stood. “I have business to which I must attend. I will see you at dinner.” He bent and kissed her on the top of her head, much like one would do to a young child or a pet dog. She hid her smile, wondering what he would have done had she raised her face so his light kiss had landed on her lips? Her scandalous book was giving her equally scandalous ideas.

The ride to the modiste was taken up with plans for the new gown. Something richer in color, no more pale debutante shades for her. And, of course, a much lower neckline, even though just the thought of appearing in such a gown made her heart thump. Would Devon even notice? Or would he still have his usual one dance with her, then head to the card room, and eventually to his club, while she remained alone in the ballroom among the other well-behaved matrons?

Due to her reputation as The Ice Queen, she’d had very few requests for dances during her Seasons, except for the few perfunctory ones with older gentlemen who liked having a young girl on their arms.

Two days later, Eugenia twisted and turned, studying herself in her looking glass. Would she even have the nerve to wear this gown outside of her bedroom? Sally had remarked on how wonderful she looked and had also fashioned her hair in a very different style, instead of her usual chignon. It was swept back from her face in a loose bun at her crown. Strands of wispy curls lay against her cheeks and long neck.

The emerald green satin gown, embellished with gold strands, shimmered as she turned. The neckline was almost scandalously low, with the tops of her plump, creamy breasts on display with the help of a new corset. The gold and emerald necklace rested between her breasts, bringing one’s eyes to that spot. Matching emerald bobs danced from her earlobes.

The girl in the mirror also looked different. Gone was the placid, cool expression. In its place was the face of a young woman, cheeks flushed, with excitement in her eyes. Ready to face her husband’s reaction, she pulled on her long gold lamé gloves and picked up her matching wrap. One final glance in the mirror and she turned to head out the door.

…

Devon stood by the fireplace, sipping on a brandy, waiting for Eugenia. He was at sixes and sevens with the death of his former mistress. As soon as word had spread of Margaret’s sudden death, he’d begun to receive furtive and not-so-furtive invitations from various widows and bored matrons to join them in bed.

He’d known for some time he would eventually have to let Margaret seek a new protector. No longer had he found her desirable. She hadn’t changed—he had. Marriage had made him behave in a most peculiar manner. Eugenia was the perfect wife, just as he had planned. Gentlemen of his rank and position kept mistresses to relieve their wives of their baser needs. He’d heard that lecture from his father many times. So why did he find the thought of securing another mistress distasteful?

He placed his empty glass on the small table and headed to the door when he heard Eugenia speaking with Bellows. Devon left the library, strode down the corridor, and came to an abrupt halt as he reached the entry hall. All the blood left his head and raced immediately to his lower parts. His mouth dried up, and his muscles tightened.

Eugenia stood calmly conversing with Bellows as if she wasn’t standing there practically naked. His eyes went directly to her bosom, on display for all to see.

What the devil!

That was not the only thing surprisingly different about her. Her hair was in a much different type of style than she’d always worn. A rush of anger washed over him that he reluctantly defined as jealousy. Clearing his throat, he approached the butler and took her pelisse out of the man’s hands. He had the urge to snap at him to turn his back.