Page 47 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

Well, there was that moment on the dance floor, when he had seemed to be flirting with her. Until he’d seen Lady Standish. Then his attention had certainly wandered.

She ignored the way her stomach dipped. She had no reason to care if he spoke to twenty ladies he knew from before they’d married. As long as he didn’t do anything to embarrass her, there was no reason for concern.

Except, the way Lady Standish had been eyeing her husband had made her feel uncomfortable. And clearly Lady Blackdown also felt uncomfortable. And Mr Aldrich had sounded titillated. Clearly there was a lot more to this than the mere renewal of an acquaintance.

But now was neither the time nor the place to interrogate Graydon, if interrogation was indeed needed. It would wait until they went home.

Her disquiet certainly was not because that pang she felt in her chest was caused by jealousy. Definitely not; the woman was married. No, the ache in her chest was related to feeling like a fish out of water.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted her family and friends.

She wanted to be comfortable again.

Her stomach dipped. Nothing she wanted was possible. She had agreed to a marriage of convenience and now she was stuck with the consequences.

Chapter Ten

As his valet removed his cufflinks, Graydon dwelt on his promise to help his wife out of the necklace. Indeed, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the moment he’d offered. Or the faint glow of pink that had touched her cheeks as she’d smiled up at him.

He’d like to help her out of the rest of her garments too…

Damnation, he was a randy beast. He had promised himself that he would wait for her to come to him, and yet…would she ever make the first move? She was such a reserved little thing. And obviously not all that enamoured of him, though she had seemed quite receptive on the dance floor.

Damn Eloise, being right in his line of vision at that particular moment. He should not have allowed himself to be distracted. There was no doubt that Florence had noticed, in addition to her noticing that he had stopped to talk to Eloise on the way to fetch her refreshment.

She hadn’t let his imminent return stop her from dancing with Aldrich, though. It was rather odd that the handsome young fellow had taken himself off before Graydon’s return. He ought to have waited to be introduced. But Mother knew him, as did the other ladies present, and seemed to approve of him.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and grabbed his nightshirt.

His valet busied himself putting away items of clothing and the cufflinks. ‘Will there be anything else, my lord?’

‘No thank you, Stone.’

The man exited the room quietly through the dressing room.

Graydon stared at the door on the opposite side of his chamber—the door that led to his wife’s room. The door he had never used. He had told her he would join her. She might be waiting. Was that a smidgeon of hope, that she might be looking forward to his arrival?

He shrugged into his dressing gown and tied the cord. He was prepared for questions about Eloise. Might as well get them out of the way.

There were other things he wanted to get out of the way…such as her clothes. Curse it. He needed to go slowly. He was not going to emulate his father and overpower his wife if she wasn’t yet ready. Horror filled him as he recalled those sounds from his parents’ room and the bruises on his mother the next day.

He knocked on her door and strode in. The room smelled of florals with deeper notes of spices, soap, scents and creams. It smelled the way a female’s boudoir should: feminine; enticing; heady.

Delicious.

He filled his nostrils with the scent and his head with resolve. He would take things slowly.

Too bad she had already changed into her nightdress. A plain cotton neck rose to fill the vee in her plain-white dressing gown. It was not the lacy affair she had worn on her wedding night. This evening she looked, virginal, untouchable.

Exceedingly tempting to a voracious male.

‘You came to get the necklace,’ she said prosaically, pointing to the dressing table and a little swirling heap of diamonds. ‘It is all there, including the part I did not use.’

He wandered over and stirred it with a finger, watching the light catch rainbows in its depths.

‘How did you enjoy your first taste of Almack’s?’ He glanced into the mirror to watch her reaction. Outlined in firelight and candles, her curves would tempt a saint, not to mention that the light shone through the delicate fabric, giving him a delightful view of the outline of her legs all the way to the apex of her thighs.