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Frowning, Edwin leaned back, feeling rather at a loss. She’d seemed so happy when they’d first left for the theater, but sometime during the first act she’d become closed off again.
No matter what he seemed to do, his wife was constantly running hot and cold. Well, except for at night when they were in their bed and she blazed with fiery passion in his arms. He'd thought the trip to the opera would please Eleanor, but instead she seemed distanced and distracted. Was she even paying attention? She'd been practically tugging at the necklace, as if she wanted it off, when she'd seemed so elated about it earlier in the evening.
For all the years they’d known each other, for all his knowledge of women, Eleanor continued to confound him.
Which, he had to admit, excited him as much as it frustrated him. Life with her would certainly never be boring. Studying her profile, he saw the high blush in her cheeks which said she knew he was looking at her, but she didn't turn her head to acknowledge him. Instead her eyes dropped to where Lady Lilienfield's hand was obviously in Wesley's lap.
Quirking his lips, Edwin wondered if Eleanor was watching their blatant courtship. Certainly she seemed more interested in it than in the opera. Or perhaps, the smile faded from his face, she was wondering if Wesley had the same unbrotherly affection for her that Edwin did. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility, after all. Jealousy lanced through him before he could wrestle the unwelcome emotion away. She had done nothing to indicate that her feelings for Wesley went beyond the friendship that they had always had.
Reaching over to rest his arm on the back of her chair, Edwin let his fingers brush against the back of her neck. His wife jumped as his fingertips touch the tendrils of gold that were falling against her sensitive skin, and he hid a grin as he watched her gaze slant towards him. Not that she actually turned her head, but it was obvious she was no longer ignoring him.
Edwin shifted closer so that he could examine the color in her cheeks and the rise and fall of her breasts as he brushed his fingers across the nape of her neck again.
Oh... why was he tormenting her so?!
She couldn't be in the same room as her husband without being aware of him, and now that he was touching her in these little ways she was so acutely attuned to him that she couldn't concentrate on the opera even if she wanted to. A moment ago she’d been yearning for such touches from him and now it was all she could do not to jump as his fingers brushed the back of her neck, played with the short hairs there, traveled along her shoulder blades...
Inside her corset her nipples were aching for his touch and she could feel her lower body heating, coiling. In the theater! Their private box was not very private and this was not Paris, their friends and acquaintances were in the audience! Wesley was sitting in front of them, not even a foot away. Not that Edwin was doing anything completely scandalous, Wesley would see nothing but her hot red cheeks if he looked over his shoulder, but she felt incredibly exposed all the same. Maybe this was why Edwin hadn’t been touching her before; but if so, why had he changed his mind?
"Edwin," she hissed under her breath, leaning towards him without turning her head.
"Yes sweetheart?" His lips came so close to her ear that she could feel his breath against the sensitive appendage, and she almost lost her train of thought.
"Stop it!"
"Stop what?"
Fingertips brushed along her neck again and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her at his touch.
"That!"
"Stop touching you?" His voice was amused as he pressed his fingers more firmly to the top of her bare shoulder. "But I like touching you."
"It's distracting."
Edwin leaned closer, his lips right against her ear so that she could feel them moving as he whispered so low that it was barely a sound. "I think you like me touching you too."
She rapped his thigh with her fan, hard, and he jumped. Eleanor glared at him, even harder, when he grinned delightedly at her in response. What was wrong with the loon?
"Just stop it," she hissed.
Next to her Edwin settled back down in his seat but it was with a smug, insufferable kind of air. Eleanor seethed quietly for the rest of the performance, head held high and ignoring the occasional glint of an opera glass trained in their direction.
During the intermission more than one lady of the ton complimented Eleanor on her necklace. By the third time it happened her smile felt pasted on as the lady in question cooed over how generous and thoughtful Lord Hyde was, all the while fluttering their fans and eyelashes his way as if to indicate their receptiveness to being on the receiving end of such thoughtful generosity. It was enough to make Eleanor grind her teeth, although she felt Edwin's reproving fingers tighten about her waist every time she began to be a bit snappish with importuning ladies.
That small reminder from him was just enough to settle her down, warning her to behave unless she wanted a spanking when they returned home. Which she most assuredly did not.
Her husband played the thoughtful suitor by her side, much the way he had in Paris. In some respects it relived her greatly that he danced attendance on her, apparently oblivious to the flirtatious advances of some of the women; on the other hand it was a drain to keep herself from dragging him off to some dark corner as he continued to torment her with small touches and caresses. She knew she was being slightly unreasonable in her resentment towards him for heating her body in such a way, after all, she had been watching Wesley enviously with Lady Lilienfield and wishing for exactly that, but as soon as her wishes had been granted she'd realized just how awful it was to want intimacy with her husband and be denied for hours.
"Lady Grace!" Eleanor called out, relieved to see her friend in the crowd.
Immediately the head of ravens-wing hair turned and Grace's bright blue eyes flashed with pleasure as she saw who was hailing her. If Eleanor's mother had been there she would have chided her daughter for raising her voice like a fishwife at market, but Edwin just chuckled and continued chatting with one of his acquaintances as Grace made her way over to them on the arm of a new rake whom Eleanor vaguely recognized by reputation alone. Lord Benjamin Warpoole, son of the Marquess of Dean, whose dark good looks rivaled Edwin's. He looked rather bored, despite having a walking scandal like Grace on his arm. Apparently it didn't bother him to receive the cut direct from more than one person.
"Hello darling," Grace cooed, exchanging kisses with Eleanor. She introduced Lord Warpoole, who almost immediately joined in the male conversation, despite the fact that he looked singularly uninterested in the topic. Perhaps that was just his default expression, and not a true indication of his feelings. "This is a surprise! I didn't know you'd be attending tonight."
"The tickets were a surprise from Edwin," Eleanor explained with a little smile.
For a moment an emotion that looked surprisingly like envy flashed across Grace's face and then it was gone, hidden behind her ravishing smile and bright eyes. "How sweet... and the necklace? That must be new, I've never seen it before."
