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“I am not so sure of this, sir.” She devolved fearlessly. “Are you afraid there will be a direct heir to the Dukedom you’ve been promised?”
And a sharp tongue as well. Her defiance needled directly in his groin. Bloody hell! At this pace, he wouldn’t be able to stand for a long time.
“Then you mean to produce a son and take it all to yourself, Lady Crompton” He drawled, his tone like a knife. But he couldn’t help the trip his eyes made, from her forehead, to her upturned nose, to rest on her full lips, naturally rosy and moist from the coffee. The image of both of them tangled in a hot kiss just flashed in his mind, causing utter damage to his lower body.
Selene registered the direction of his gaze and flushed. It felt as if he’d actually touched her mouth, it tingled. She bit her lower lip to make the sensation stop. Then his eyes came back to it and darkened. Hers followed suit, as her blood ran faster in her veins. Damn the devil!
“My name is Selene.” She insisted. She didn’t feel like a duchess, hadn’t wanted it. She wanted even less a child from this marriage. The title was his and she cared nothing for it.
“The Greek goddess of the moon.” He murmured silkily, marvelling at how dark her eyes could get. “Changeable and magical in the night.” Her name suited her appallingly. A woman of the night, for the night, in the night, in every possible and wicked sense.
“My mother used to be very fond of Greek myth
ology.” She offered in a useless attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
“Used?” His eyebrows arched up
“Yes. She passed away two years ago from a fever.” That’s what the doctor said, but Selene knew it for disgust at what her step-son had been up to.
He didn’t make any reply. Quickly, she finished her bread and coffee and stood.
“If you excuse me, I have appointments to attend to.”
He gave a lopsided scornful smile, knowing she wanted to run away from him. She turned and left the morning room in elegant steps.
She reached her room almost running, locked the door and fell on the settee in utter distress, face in her hands. So, the devil would indeed live with them.
Selene kept busy as she’d intended. She went for a walk in the park with her two friends, they had luncheon at one of them. When she came home mid-afternoon, she found the house empty, hearing from the butler that John and the devil had gone to their club. She felt so relieved that she buried herself in the library to read. Reading was one of the things that maintained her sane. Upon seeing the precious library at Crompton house she’d felt more light-hearted and optimistic. Her father also had a library, but it was so much smaller. Here she found books just about all the knowledge under the sun. She’d made the library her sanctuary and used to spend several hours of her day there, leaving it only to go to social occasions.
This evening they didn’t have any invitation to attend and she gathered they’d be spending a cosy dinner in. The thought that the devil might join them soured the idea. She’d claim indisposition if it weren’t so obvious. She’d have to endure it, no doubt.
But when she arrived at the richly decorated drawing-room, only her husband stood by the window with a glass of brandy in his hand. The swish of her dress announced her presence and Lord Crompton turned to her, an easy smile on his face.
“My dear, there you are.” He extended his hand and she came to take it. She smiled blandly at him. “What can I get you? Sherry, as always?”
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” She wouldn’t dare ask about the devil, didn’t care. Wouldn’t give herself the chance to care, more like it.
“Philip decided to accept his friends’ invitation for a night out, so he won’t be joining us.” John informed, as he handed her the sherry.
“I see. He must have a lot to talk to them, I am certain.” She sipped it as if the mention of his name meant nothing to her, but her skin prickled all the same.
What would he do? Gamble? Drink the night away? Or spend the night with some paramour? The idea of him in the arms of any woman made her blood freeze. She didn’t want to search for the cause of that.
“Doubtlessly.” Her husband’s comment took her out of her reverie.
They finished their drink in silence and went to the even more lavishly decorated dining room, arm in arm.
As the footmen served the first course, she thought that food would be the last thing she wanted at that moment.
“He’ll be staying here with us, at least temporarily.” John spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind.” He took a spoonful of soup.
“Certainly not.” She managed to sound casual, sipping her wine.
“Before the war he had his bachelor’s quarters, as you might deduce.” He let the footman take his plate. “Then he went to war and ceased the rent contract.”
Unfortunate, she thought. Hopefully, he’d rent something soon or make himself scarce often.
The next course arrived and all she could do was change the food from one side to the other. Her stomach churned at the smell of the delicious pheasant.
