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“Your new sister-in-law of course,” Grace said, looking at Eleanor with something akin to real amusement. “I know Alex was at her wedding, surely you didn’t miss that she’s head over heels in love with the man.”
“Irene?” Eleanor felt her jaw dropping. “And… your husband?... But… but…”
“Oh dear…” The amusement on Grace’s face immediately faded. “Don’t tell me that it’s a love match for Hugh? I’d heard it was arranged by your parents and hers.”
“I’m not sure. I know he cares for her… he wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t feel something for her… but she didn’t… she wouldn’t…”
Grace laughed mirthlessly. “Oh she would. I was there when she and Alex saw each other for the first time after I married him. I saw her face. At the time I felt sorry for her. Two months later I felt sorry for myself.”
“If you felt sorry for her, then why are you so mean to her?”
Soft pink lips hardened into a straight line again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Silence fell over the room as Eleanor tried to remember every interaction between Irene and Lord Brooke at Hugh’s wedding that she’d witnessed, but she’d been so preoccupied with avoiding Edwin that she hadn’t been watching anyone else. Of course, Irene had been rather quiet and subdued when she had joined Eleanor’s company, but Eleanor had assumed that was due to the Baroness. That woman was enough to make anyone try to shrivel into themselves in an effort not to be noticed.
“Do you think that she’ll be unfaithful to Hugh?”
“It wouldn’t matter if she wanted to be,” Grace said with a shrug, her face was calm but that was belied by the nervous movements of her fingers within Eleanor’s. “Alex never has affairs with women who are married.” Still, there was a tension about her that said she wasn’t as sure of her words as she sounded. Eleanor wondered if Grace worried that Irene would be the exception to the rule.
She’d been wondering for so long about the estrangement between Grace and her husband that the new curiosity had been almost startling. Now she wished that she had never asked. The knowledge that Irene might – Eleanor was fervently hoping that Grace was mistaken – be in love with Lord Brooke was something she wished she didn’t know.
Should she warn Hugh?
Should she tell Edwin?
******
Laughing, Irene waded through the creek’s bubbling waters as Hugh pretended to mistake her feet for fish, doing his best to catch them in his hands. Her handsome husband had divested himself of his coat and boots, his trousers were rolled up to display his calves and the damp fabric of his shirt clung to the muscled lines of his body. Sunlight glinted off of his golden hair and his white teeth flashed as he grinned, reaching out and trying to catch one of her feet, his fingers grazing her ankle. With a playful shriek, Irene ran back to the bank.
That one was too close and, truth be told, she didn’t entirely trust him to let go if he did get a good hold on her. All she needed was to go toppling into the water and reveal that she wasn’t wearing a corset beneath her light cotton riding dress. With such a beautiful day, and knowing that they were going riding again, she’d opted for less constrictive undergarments, and Hugh hadn’t seemed to notice – he’d said she looked beautiful.
Perhaps he didn’t notice the freckles on her nose. Or perhaps, she thought a little rebelliously, her mother was wrong and men didn’t mind freckles as much as she claimed.
Little thoughts like that had been cropping up in Irene’s mind quite often during her honeymoon. They’d made the transition from Stonehaven to the Stanley House and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier.
No – wait… of course she could. Or at least, almost as happy. Whenever Alex had been home; his presence had always protected her somewhat from her mother’s harsh words. She might be happier here but of course it wasn’t fair to compare the situations, because Hugh had the advantage since her mother was far, far away in London.
“Come back here,” he demanded, standing with his fists planted on his hips, mock-glaring at her from the shallow water as she clambered back up onto the bank.
“No,” she said impishly.
A slow smile spread across Hugh’s face, replacing the pretend-forbidding look, a smile that Irene recognized and her heart began to pound faster. “Are you saying I should come and get you?”
Instinctively she took a step back, licking her soft pink lips as she stared at him.
“No?”
“Oh, I think you are,” her husband said silkily, his tone dark and dangerous in the kind of way that led to all sorts of sensual pleasures. Irene blinked at him before glancing around, as if worried that someone else could hear what he was saying.
Hugh almost laughed. She had no idea how delectably tempting she looked, like a sweet nymph about to take flight. He was feeling decidedly satyr-like at the moment. There was nothing he would enjoy better than chasing his little innocent down and making love to her outdoors. Irene had been shocked when he’d first made love to her outside of their bed, catching her unawares in the drawing room where she’d been staring out the window wistfully the one day it had been raining. By the time he finished with her the wistful expression had been replaced with one replete with feminine satisfaction.
She was always shocked when he showed her something new. Shocked but curious, passionate and quick to learn.
Taking a step forward he felt his desire surge as she took another step back. Her hands were still clutched in her skirts, showing off her slim ankles and feet, sunlight had turned her hair into golden flame, and her breasts heaved beneath her dress. Even though he was at least fifteen feet away from her he could see the excitement rising in her emerald eyes, he knew that her heart must be beating as quickly as his own.
“Are you going to run from me, wife?”
“Should I?” She teased, taking another step back and Hugh surged forward.
