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“He does not. I overheard him speaking with Lord Trent who was all but begging my husband to take a mistress. Some opera star name Clarice. Wycliffe refused.”
“That my dear,” Lucinda said, “is most interesting. I am twice widowed. I know something about men. That he does not take a mistress but stares at you with want says that your husband is a normal man with appetites that he might be uncertain in pursuing.”
Prue stared at her, thinking back to their wedding night. “I fainted on our wedding night.”
“Was it that awful?” Harriet demanded. “I’ve seen a maid and a footman coming from a linen closet and, let me tell you, she looked most pleased.”
“I fainted before he could even kiss me. There was a look in his eyes that said I would have been ravished most thoroughly and like a ninny I swooned. I woke the next morning to find myself in my bed, and my virtue still intact. My husband has never mentioned it.”
“And since then he has never tried to seduce you to his bed?” Charity asked, clearly still disbelieving.
“Yes. I detect no interest on his part. It is very disheartening.” Prue closed her eyes and rubbed at her temple, hoping to still the slight headache she felt forming.
Lucinda canted her head. “Perhaps your earl believes you are afraid of the marriage bed.”
Prue groaned. Her fainting had suggested that indeed.
“He might think he is doing the honorable thing by staying away from you,” Charity said.
Harriet frowned and tapped her chin with a well-manicured finger. “Yes, but all lords need their heir. He cannot stay away forever.”
Lucinda clapped her hands together. “I believe he might be waiting until you are older. That must be it!”
“I am twenty,” Prue said wryly. “He has already waited three years.”
Charity fixed her with a piercing stare. “I thought you were two and twenty?”
With a slight flush Prue admitted, “I tweaked my age slightly so that Theo would not balk at granting me membership to the club.”
The girls looked suitably impressed and Prue bit back a smile.
“Is your lord much older than you are, my dear?” Lucinda asked.
“Twelve years separate us.”
Lucinda pursed her lips. “That is not so bad. That man is terribly handsome and fit, if I may say so. My first husband was three and twenty years my senior. Going forward, keep it in mind that he might believe as it stands you are too young. Rubbish of course.”
Prue nodded thoughtfully. “I am going to ask for a meeting where I will ask for answers.”
“Oh, no, my dear,” Lucinda said. “Not that at all. No talking, only action. You will go to that man and kiss him and…”
“I already tried,” she interjected drily. “It was a spectacular failure.”
That shut up her friends.
“How so?” Agatha said, leaning forward.
As briefly as possible, Prue recounted last night’s fiasco. Lucinda seemed thoughtful, Agatha and Harriet befuddled, and Charity curious.
“I have the solution,” Harriet said, her dove gray eyes brightening. “You should seduce your husband in the naughtiest of ways. The ways they claim rakes persuade us ladies to their beds for wicked delights.”
“Seduce him?” Prue parroted, her heart dancing a madcap beat. “I already told you about last night. He was not inclined to my advances.”
“Pftt,” Lucinda said. “I cannot tell if it is charming or pitiful that you believed that little peck was seduction.”
Prue sent her friend a scowl. “I will not—”
“Prue?”
