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“Are you free tomorrow evening?”
Her only plans had been to call at 48 Berkeley Square. “I can be free,” she said, planning to only stay a couple of hours at the club.
“Good. Tomorrow we will visit the pleasure gardens.”
Her heart thrilled. “You remembered.”
His eyes darkened. “I would not have forgotten.”
She arched a teasing brow. “The invitation was made thirteen days ago. I have been languishing in hope.”
“I have been remiss, wife. I shall make amends.”
She delicately sniffed at his dry, almost amused response. “I am curious as to how you will do so.”
“I will think of something.”
“Perhaps we should set a wager,” she said with candor.
“A gentleman should not wager with a lady, especially his wife.”
“Oh, you poor man. The fun you’ll miss in this lifetime.”
Her husband surprised her by chuckling and pulling her even closer to his body. With a gasp, she glanced around to see who observed, but everyone was too busy watching the new earl dancing with Perdie.
“I will grant you a boon,” Oscar said with a slight smile. “Will that acquit me?”
“A boon?”
“Yes, I recalled at our first chess match you were keen on collecting one.”
A kiss. That was what she had wanted. “Accepted,” she said softly.
One of his elegant brows winged upward. “So, what is it?”
“I’ll take it when I am ready.”
“How suitably mysterious,” he drawled, his eyes questioning as they roamed over her features.
Prue offered no reply but merely smiled up at her lord in response. Tomorrow at the pleasure gardens, she’d find a way to claim her boon.
His countess’ssmile was the prettiest and most captivating Oscar ever had the pleasure to see. Not even the famed lamp lights of Vauxhall which had come on, turning the gardens into a fairyland of blue, yellow, and purple lights shone brighter than his wife. Her lovely eyes, which were set under delicately arched brows, gleamed with rich delight, and her generous mouth seemed specially made for smiling…and kissing. Bloody hell, he desperately wanted to kiss her, just to see if she tasted as warm and sweet as he recalled. Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, Oscar looked away from his very tempting wife.
It was difficult to admit to himself that he could not stop staring at her or how much he enjoyed the closeness of her presence. They strolled along the dark walk of the pleasure gardens, her arm looped intimately around his, her body at times brushing against his and provoking too many desires. His wife looked delectable, so beautiful in a dark golden dress with a flattering and revealing décolletage, she looked nothing like the young girl he had married. He could not imagine a woman he would find more desirable than his wife. The tiny, delicate lace fichu around her neck was so flimsy it did not hide her luscious charms, merely tempted him to examine them more. So sophisticated and poised his wife seemed, so unlike the innocent waif he had stood next to as his bride.
How had he not noticed she had blossomed into this sensual woman. And wasn’t that the problem? He had been busy not looking lest he was tempted to act foolishly. His wife’s gown hugged to a figure that was lush and sensual. Yet it was not only the attraction of her bodily charms which seduced his senses but the way she laughed and basked in the entertainments around her. The very scent of her perfume fired his blood; he wanted to move closer and drink deep of that glorious mouth, which seemed to be begging for his attention.
“Oh, my,” she said with a delighted laugh as fireworks exploded skyward.
In the distance near the bridge, the observing crowd sent up a raucous cheer as more fireworks painted the night sky.
“I love it here,” his wife said, quickly glancing up at him.
“Some years ago, I readThe Expedition of Humphry Clinkerby Tobias Smollett. The book painted a picture of the pleasure gardens as a lush oasis with the multi-colored lamps shaped like constellations, stars, and suns.” Looking about, she continued, “The letters did not do justice to the gardens or the pavilions and lawns, temples and cascades. One of the reasons I longed to visit London was for the pleasure gardens and the museums. I have not really experienced the city yet. However, I am even more determined to do so now.”
A swift feeling of shame kicked him in the gut. Such simple outings, yet his wife had never partaken in any of them. As a husband, he had not sought to learn her likes and dislikes or even attempted to fulfill any wishes she might own. He had a lot to make up for, and he was damned glad she had taken the first step in forging a deeper connection between them. His young wife was mature enough to bridge the distance in their marriage. And what had he been doing? Concentrating on his work by burying his head in his ledgers attempting to fix the affairs of his estates across England and writing speeches for his party in parliament. As if his marriage was not important.
It is important too. It always had been, and he should have realized it sooner. The thought slammed into him, faltering his steps. He’d always held that marriage was a simple union with clearly defined roles and did not need to suffer any misunderstandings or messy complications. It did not need overwrought emotions, ideas, and notions about love—in his estimation, nonsensical emotion made people act in haste and recklessness. Nor did a marriage need outside affairs tainting its logical foundation. Marriage was merely a practical arrangement to secure political connections and a respectable bloodline for future generations, but it should still be faithful and honest. Those were his beliefs. Yet looking at the delight on his countess’s face and noting the odd way his heart skipped when she smiled, Oscar admitted there might be more to it than just pragmatism.
