Because becoming important to him for more than just lovemaking might be the only way to secure his heart. And she wanted very much to do just that.
Twenty-One
Warren sat hunched over a cup of coffee in his breakfast room at the ridiculous hour of 11:00 a.m. Normally, he wouldn’t have risen until noon at least, having stumbled into bed at dawn.
But he’d awakened early, unable to sleep for thoughts of his lovely wife lying all alone in the adjoining room. Pining for him. In her flimsy nightdress. With no drawers on.
Damn. Best not to dwell on that just now. Judging from his behavior thus far, she must think him the most randy fellow in all of England. He meant to show her otherwise, now that the night was past.
As if he’d conjured her up, she appeared in the doorway. She was fully dressed, damn it all to hell, in a very respectable blue-striped day gown that covered up far too much of her beautiful body.
Still, it brought out the brilliance of her eyes and rather complemented her figure. All of which he’d thoroughly enjoyed examining last night.
As his cock twitched in his trousers, he stifled a groan. “Ah, you’re awake.”
“Oh, I’ve been awake for hours,” she said cheerily as she entered. “Ever since I heard you fall into bed around six, as a matter of fact.”
Damn, she’d heard him come in? He’d tried to be quiet.
When she said nothing more, he realized she was waiting for an explanation. But he’d be damned if he’d give her one.
With a slight shadowing of her gaze, she walked over next to him to pour herself a cup of coffee, leaning close enough that he could smell her lemony scent. “Anyway, I figured that since you were abed and couldn’t officially present me to your staff, I would make the introductions myself.” Straightening, she sipped some coffee. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Would it make a difference if I did?” he asked.
“Of course. But I didn’t think you would. And I didn’t want to wake you too early after you’d gone to bed so late.”
Another pause for an explanation. He ignored it.
She tipped up her chin. “So I’ve now met your cook and your butler and a number of your adorable footmen.”
For some reason, that last one annoyed him. “I don’t have ‘adorable’ footmen.”
“Really? They seemed quite lovely to me.” She cocked her head. “Are you sure you know your staff?”
“I know my staff perfectly well,” he growled.
She sniffed. “My, my, no need to become agitated over it.”
“I am not—” He caught himself. “Never mind me. I’m rather out of sorts at the moment.”
Instead of making some tart remark about how that happened when one got no sleep, she patted his arm in sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Because it’s truly a lovely morning. I’ve already been for a walk in your garden with Flossie.”
He eyed her warily. She wasn’t going to demand to know exactly where he’d been and what he’d been doing? And was she really so cheery simply because of the ‘lovely morning’ and her walk with Flossie?
Last night, she’d seemed very disappointed when he’d laid down the rules for spending their nights apart. Yet this morning she acted as if she barely cared that he’d abandoned her.
That didn’t sit well. Which was ridiculous. He should be happy that she was content to go her own way. “I’m just not usually up this early.”
“So I hear.” She eyed him closely. “And you’re obviously not a person who likes mornings.”
“I like mornings just fine,” he snapped. “As long as I can spend them sleeping.”
“Ah. Perhaps, then, you should have something more than coffee in your belly.” She wandered over to the buffet, which held his usual preferences for breakfast—cold meats, cheeses, and some bread—and began to pile food on a plate. “I looked for you at three a.m., the first time I rose. But you weren’t home.”
The forced casualness with which she dropped that bombshell brought a fierce satisfaction to him. She’d noticed that he’d left. She did care. “Yes, as I told you, I tend to wander.”
At last would come the typical jealous-wife response, the one that had kept him from marrying all this time.
Instead, she faced him with a smile. “Yes, I remember. And I greatly appreciated your being so considerate last night as to allow me the chance to rest. Alone.”
That flummoxed him. Was she being sarcastic? “I was at St. George’s,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain.
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I assumed as much, since the footman said you might be.”
He eyed her warily. “You weren’t . . . worried?”
“Why should I worry? From what you said last night, I gather you’ve been going out and about late at night for years.”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
She lifted an eyebrow. “But?”
“No need to harangue me,” he said testily. “I did tell you I would look into the situation with your brother’s card cheat. So I spent most of the evening at St. George’s asking discreet questions about that tattooed lord of yours.”
“How kind. And I wasn’t haranguing you. I can’t imagine why you’d think I was.”
Because that was a wife’s duty, damn it. To harangue her husband about his whereabouts.
Then again, Delia was anything but a typical wife. Indeed, she returned to the table with a plate overladen with buttered toast, cheddar slices, and roast beef, then set it down in front of him. Even his servants wouldn’t be so presumptuous.
Yet somehow she’d managed to choose all the things he liked.
“Were you able to discover anything about the tattooed fellow?” she asked as she took a seat across from him.
“Not much,” he grumbled as he began to pick at the food. God, he was behaving like a churlish schoolboy, complaining about everything and nothing. He forced himself not to sound so surly. “I spoke to Rathmoor, who used to move in certain unsavory circles, and he’d never seen a lord with a tattoo of any kind. Unfortunately, Fulkham wasn’t there last night, since he had some matters to attend to for the cabinet, but I hope to talk to him tonight.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan.” She sipped her coffee. “I take it that neither of these gentlemen are married, which is why they can spend all night at St. George’s?”
The barely detectable strain in her voice told him she wasn’t as sanguine about this arrangement as she appeared. That stabbed guilt through him. She really was trying hard. And he was being unreasonable in his expectations.
The least he could do was acknowledge it. “Actually, I spoke to Rathmoor early in the evening, after I left you sleeping. But yes, he’s married, and no doubt returned home at a reasonable hour. Fulkham, on the other hand, is not married. Clarissa has been working on finding him a wife, poor man.”
“She’s very good at that,” Delia said. “She and my aunt ought to band together to start a matchmaking club. They could hold us up as an example of their success.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. So he changed the subject. “I thought I would place an advertisement for a lady’s maid in the paper this morning, and then we could go pay calls. That’s generally expected of newly married couples.”
“Probably. But you’re a marquess, so I’m sure you can make your own rules on that score.”
“You’d be surprised.” He settled back to stare at her. “Perhaps I could take you shopping after that. You do like shopping, right?” He dared not take anything for granted with Delia. His wife could be an odd bird.
“It depends on what we’re shopping for.” She uttered a long-suffering sigh. “Though I suppose I should acquire more fashionable clothes. That would definitely be expected of a newly married marchioness.”
Her dejection made him laugh. “Most women would jump at the chance to spend their new husbands into debt plumping up their wardrobes.”
“Most wo
men have female friends to help them choose clothes. My friends and relations are all still at the house party.”
“Ah. So would you rather wait until they return to town to go shopping?”
She brightened. “Oh, could we? I would much prefer it.” Her face fell. “Unless you’re embarrassed to be seen about town with me dressed so shabbily.”
“First of all, you aren’t dressed shabbily. Secondly, I’d never be embarrassed to be seen about town with you for any reason.”
A smile blazed across her face. “Why, Lord Knightford, I do believe you gave me a compliment.”
“Of course I did.” He cast her a mock frown. “I’m not completely devoid of husbandly virtues.”
She patted his hand. “I know.”
He caught her hand and held it as something oddly like affection swirled in his chest. “I tell you what. After I introduce you officially to the staff and give you the grand tour of the town house, we’ll pay our calls and go riding in Hyde Park to be seen as a proper married couple.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Then tonight we can go to the very improper Vauxhall Gardens to dine and view the new exhibit.”
“The Grand Moving Hydropyric Panorama?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes, I’ve longed to see that ever since it opened! But Aunt Agatha thought Vauxhall too scandalous a place for a young unmarried woman.”
“And so it is.” He bent forward to whisper, “Fortunately, you’re married now.”
“How nice of you to notice.”
He ignored her arch tone. “Besides, it’s no more scandalous than a gaming hell in Covent Garden. Although the parts we plan to see of it may skirt the edges of propriety.”
She clapped a hand to her breast dramatically. “Why, Lord Knightford, don’t tell me you intend to show me the dark walks and try to assail my honor.”
“Try, my dear? I should hope I have a better chance of success than that.”
“You are very presumptuous, sir.” She rose to cast him a saucy smile. “Not to mention cocky.”
As she turned away, he rose to catch her about the waist and pull her back against the bulge in his trousers. “Cocky is exactly what I am,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d like nothing more than to start the day with a bit more cockiness.”
So much for showing her that he wasn’t the most randy fellow in all of England. He sighed. “Unfortunately, I really should introduce you to my staff before we do anything else.”
She surprised him by rubbing up against him. “I’ve already met your ‘staff,’ remember?” she teased. “But, yes, I do think you should introduce me to the rest of the servants.”
A laugh sputtered out of him. “Very amusing.”
“Besides,” quipped the little minx as she darted off ahead of him, “you should leave something for us to do tonight at the dark walks.”
Perhaps. But either way, for at least part of tonight he’d have Delia to help him keep the dark at bay. He rather liked that.
Then perhaps when he fled the house in the wee hours of the morning in search of light and noise and people, she wouldn’t mind too terribly much.
Vauxhall was as delightful as Delia had anticipated. First there was the musical presentation in the rotunda, a wonderful comic ballet that had both her and Warren laughing. Then the fireworks burst into the sky from amid colored fountains and gushing waterfalls in a truly spectacular interplay of light and water that wrung gasp after gasp from the crowd.
Much later, after the excitement died down, her decidedly “cocky” husband was true to his word and, with almost no difficulty at all, seduced her in one of the dark walks. It was surprisingly enjoyable to do such a thing in a public place. She wouldn’t have thought it.
Granted, there had been a few bad moments in the evening—like when a widow who either hadn’t heard of Warren’s marriage or didn’t care what that meant attempted to coax him into her box. Alone.
Or now, when a couple of what could only be described as light-skirts stood watching and whispering as she and Warren strolled past.
“Do you know them?” she asked.
“Who?”
She could tell from his blank expression that he genuinely hadn’t noticed the light-skirts. She supposed that was a good thing. But it was still a rather uncomfortable reminder of his past experiences with women.
“Nobody.” She threaded her arm through his. “I’m getting tired. Let’s go home, shall we?”
“If that’s what you wish.”
What I wish is for my husband to sleep with me tonight.
But she couldn’t say that. Her tactics to win him over as a wife were going well. No point in ruining everything by becoming peevish.
They spent the carriage ride back comparing opinions on the ballet performance. As they disembarked at the entrance to his town house—their town house—she wondered if he would attempt to seduce her again, or if he would just pack her off to bed to sleep alone with her cat.
Then the butler met them at the door. “My lord, your brother is here.”
Warren started. “Which one?”
Delia had already learned that he had five, one of whom was married and off in America. So, obviously it wasn’t that one.
“Captain Lord Hartley, sir.”
“Warren!” cried a voice from down the hall. “You’re back!”
Striding toward them was a burly fellow who looked nothing like his brother. Green-eyed, sporting a thick brown beard, and wearing a Hussar uniform, he was every inch the cavalry officer.
And judging from the exuberant hug he gave his brother, none of that made one bit of difference between them.
“I’m back?” Warren said as they pulled apart. “I’ve been here all along. You’re the one who keeps dashing off to parts unknown. How long has it been? Two years? Three?”
“Only a bit more than one, old chap. Can’t believe you don’t remember.” He paused. “Oh, wait, you were in Bath with Clarissa and our aunt last time I was in London. And my visit was too short for me to go down there to see you.”
“Obviously, since I didn’t even know you were in England.”
“That’s why I came straight from the transport ship this time. I didn’t want to miss you. I arrived in town only three hours ago.” Lord Hartley turned to Delia with a gleam in his eye. “And this must be your new wife. Can’t believe I had to hear of your wedding from the servants.”
Warren scowled at him. “We’ve been married all of a day and a half, and I wrote to inform you of it. But the letter is on its way to James Island. Clearly, you weren’t there to receive it.” Possessively, he laid his hand in the curve of Delia’s back. “So may I present my wife, Delia? Delia, this is Captain Lord Hartley Corry of the 10th Royal Hussars. The oldest of my younger brothers.”
“Pleased to meet you, madam,” Lord Hartley said with a bow and a grin. “And do call me Hart. We’re family now, it seems.” Then he raked her with an assessing look that reminded her very much of her husband. “I must say that my brother is a lucky man, indeed.”
“What fustian. But I thank you, sir.” She smiled as she held out her hand, which he pressed for a shade longer than was proper. “And I must say that you’re more like him than I at first realized.”
“Don’t let his uniform fool you,” Warren said dryly. “He’s a scapegrace masquerading as a soldier.”
Hart struck his chest dramatically with his fist. “You wound me to the heart. That’s like a wolf calling a fox a beast of prey. Compared to you, I’m merely a junior scapegrace.”
“Oh, trust me,” Delia put in, with a sly glance at Warren, “I have no doubt my husband can out-scapegrace any man in society.”
Hart grinned at her. “I see that your wife is not only beautiful but clever.”
“She is indeed. Not to mention prone to making up words.” Warren tightened his proprietary hold on her. “So have you eaten?”
“I have. Your servants took good care of me.”
“And I assume you’re staying here while you�
��re in town?” Warren asked.
Hart flashed Delia a quick glance. “I don’t know. You two are newly married. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”
“Nonsense, you must stay,” she said hastily. If ever there was a way to show her husband her wifely abilities, it would be by playing hostess to his brother. “You’re family, and we’re happy to have you. It’s no intrusion at all.”
She knew she’d made the right decision when Hart let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, madam, that is very kind of you. I am delighted to accept.”
Warren nodded to their butler. “Pull out my best bottle of brandy from the cellar and bring it to the drawing room. And have some wine brought for my wife.”
“And some bread and cheese and fruit for all of us,” Delia put in. “I fear that Vauxhall doesn’t offer much in the way of food these days, and I daresay my husband will soon want some sort of supper.”
“Very good, madam,” the butler said, and headed off.
“A gracious hostess as well,” Hart said. “You landed in clover this time, brother.” Offering Delia his arm, he added, “Come, my lady. Tell me all about why you were mad enough to take such an unrepentant scoundrel as this fellow for a husband. And how very much you regret it now that you’ve met his far more superior brother.”
With a laugh, she let him tug her down the hall toward the drawing room as Warren followed behind. Clearly, these Corry brothers were all cut of the same cloth—self-assured, arrogant, and far too charming for any woman’s sanity.
“Watch it, Hart,” Warren drawled. “I daresay I can still out-box you, even if I can’t outshoot or outride you.”
“I doubt that. I’ve been practicing.” He bent to say to her in a conspiratorial voice, “Do let me know when you want to throw over my less accomplished brother. I’m sure I could sneak you into the barracks without being caught.”
“Why would she want to sleep in a bloody barracks,” Warren said testily, “when she can sleep in comfort here?”
“We wouldn’t be sleeping, you dolt,” his brother said as the three of them entered the drawing room. “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve merely been sleeping with your wife. Do I have to explain to you how marriage works, old chap?”
The Danger of Desire Page 22