by Sylvia Day
“Lady Pershing-Moore told me she saw you with Lady Grayson,” Lady Hamilton said, panting as she came to a halt before them. “I said she must be daft, but it seems she was correct.” She beamed. “So wonderful to see you again, my lord. How was…wherever you were?”
Gray accepted the offered hand, bowed over it, and said, “Miserable, as any locale would be without the company of my charming and beautiful wife.”
“Oh.” Lady Hamilton shot Isabel a wink. “Of course. Lady Grayson accepted an invitation to my rout, which will be held the week after next. I do pray that you intend to accompany her.”
“Certainly,” Gray said smoothly. “After my extended absence, I intend to never be away from her side for even a moment.”
“Wonderful! I now look forward to the event with even greater anticipation.”
“You are too kind.”
Saying her farewells, Lady Hamilton retreated quickly.
“Gray,” Isabel began with a sigh. “Why stir up gossip in this way?”
“If you think there is any possibility that we will not be gossiped about, you are delusional.” He continued down the street toward their waiting landau.
“Why add fuel to the fire?”
“Do they teach women how to speak in riddles in finishing school? I vow, you all do it so well.”
“Damn you, I agreed to be your escort until you find your footing, but that will not take long, and once you go your own way—”
“We are going the same way, Pel,” he drawled. “We’re married.”
“We can separate. After the last four years it would merely be a formality.”
Gray took a deep breath, and looked down at her. “Why would I want to do that? Better yet, why would you?”
Isabel kept her eyes ahead. How could she explain, when she wasn’t certain she knew the answer? She shrugged helplessly.
His hand over hers, he gave a soft squeeze. “A great deal has happened in the last twenty-four hours. Give both of us some time to adjust to one another. I admit, things between us have not progressed the way I anticipated.”
He assisted her into the landau, and then directed the driver home.
“What did you anticipate, Gray?” Perhaps if she knew his aim, she could find some understanding. Or at the very least ease some of her worry.
“I thought I would return, you and I would sit down with a few bottles of excellent vintage, and become reacquainted. I imagined slowly finding my way in this world, and settling into the comfort you and I once knew together.”
“I would like that,” she said softly. “But I doubt the possibility unless we can find a way to be like we were.”
“Is that truly what you desire?” He twisted in the seat to face her, and her gaze dropped, noting how muscular and powerful his thighs were. She could not seem to cease taking note of such things now. “Do you love Hargreaves?”
Isabel’s brows shot up. “Love him? No.”
“Then there is hope for us.” He smiled, but the determination in his voice was unmistakable.
“Not that I don’t care quite a bit for him, because I do. We have many interests in common. He is of a like age. We—”
“Does my age bother you, Isabel?” He studied her from beneath the brim of his hat, his blues eyes narrowed and considering.
“Well, you are younger, and—”
Gray caught her about the neck, and pulled her close, tilting his head to duck under her hat. His mouth—that sculpted mouth that could dazzle or sneer with equal effectiveness—brushed across hers.
“Oh!”
“I will not accept a sham anymore, Pel.” He licked across her lips, and groaned softly. “God, the way you smell drives me insane.”
“Gray,” she gasped, pushing at his shoulders and discovering just how hard he was. Her lips trembled and burned. “People can see us.”
“I don’t care.” He swiped his tongue quickly into her mouth, and she shivered at the taste of him. “You belong to me. I can seduce you if I want to.” As his hand at her nape stroked softly, his voice lowered. “And I definitely want to.”
He sealed his lips over hers, a brief tease, and then he pulled away, whispering, “Shall I demonstrate what a younger man can do for you?”
Her eyes drifted shut. “Please…”
“Please what?” His free hand rested next to her thigh, and kneaded her, sending waves of yearning through her body. “Please show you?”
She shook her head. “Please don’t make me want you, Gray.”
“Why not?” He tugged off his hat, and set his mouth to her throat, licking across her racing pulse.
“Because I will hate you forever if you do.”
He pulled back quickly in surprise, and she took the opportunity to shove hard, which effectively knocked him over. He fell to his back, his arms flailing outward in an attempt to halt his descent. She flinched as his shoulders hit the side with a loud thump, leaving him nearly prone.
“What the devil?” Gray stared at her, wide-eyed.
She scrambled over to the rear-facing squab.
“Yes, you can have your way, Gray,” she said grimly. “Much to my shame. But while my body may be all too willing to indulge, I happen to have morals, and a care for Hargreaves, who does not deserve to be set aside after nearly two years of companionship just for a rut.”
“A rut, madam?” he growled, cursing as he nearly fell off the seat in his attempt to sit up. “One does not ‘rut’ with their spouse.”
Once he’d managed to resume his perch, the full extent of his arousal was revealed by the stretching of material between his legs. Isabel swallowed hard, and looked away quickly. Good God.
“What else could it be?” she said crossly. “We know nothing of one another!”
“I know you, Pel.”
“Do you?” She snorted. “What is my favorite flower? Favorite color? Favorite tea?”
“Tulips. Blue. Peppermint.” Gray snatched his hat off the floorboards, shoved it on his head, and crossed his arms.
She blinked.
“Thought I wasn’t paying attention?”
Isabel bit her lower lip, and rifled through her memories. What were his favorite flowers, color, and tea? She was ashamed to realize she did not know.
“Ha!” he said triumphantly. “All well and good, Isabel. I shall give you the time you require to come around, and during that time you can learn all about me, and I about you.”
The landau rolled to a halt outside their home. She glanced at the planters by the street, and saw the blue flowers. Gray leapt down, and then assisted her. He walked her up the steps, bowed, and then turned about.
“Where are you going?” she called after him, her skin still tingling from his touch, her stomach clenched at the determined set of his shoulders.
He paused, and looked back at her. “If I go in the house with you, I will take you, whether you will it or no.” When she said nothing, his mouth curved mockingly. Within moments, he was gone.
Where would he go? He was obviously aroused, and virile enough that his release in the tailor’s shop would not affect his ability to perform again. The thought of him occupied in carnal pursuits prodded her in a horribly familiar way. She knew what he looked like unclothed, and she knew that any other woman who saw him similarly would be putty in his hands. An ache she had thought to never feel again gnawed at her belly. A twinge from the past. A reminder.
Entering her home of nearly five years, Isabel discovered, to her dismay, that it already felt almost empty without Gray’s vital presence. She cursed him for the upheaval he had wrought in only a few scant hours, and she took the stairs to her room determined to rectify the matter. Detailed planning of her dinner party was in order. She also needed to study her spouse, and ascertain his likes and dislikes.
Then, once she knew him, she would find the perfect mistress for him. She could only hope that Hargreaves’ plan would work, and work quickly.
Experience had taught her that men like
Gray could not be resisted for long.
Chapter 4
As Gerard ascended the steps to the double doors of Remington’s Gentleman’s Club, he knew that if it weren’t for his frustration, he would be nervous. Inside the popular establishment, there would be at least several gentlemen whose wives or paramours had been sampled by him. In the past, he would have felt no awkwardness. Rules do not apply in love or war, he would have said. Now, he knew better. Rules applied everywhere, and he was not exempt from following them.
He handed his hat and gloves to one of the two attending footmen, and passed through the main gaming areas to the great room beyond. Seeking a deep armchair and a libation of some sort, he glanced around the room as he entered. He found comfort in the familiar surroundings. The smell of leather and tobacco reminded him that some things were timeless. A pair of light blue eyes met his, and then they looked away in a deliberate snub. Gerard sighed, accepting his due, then moved forward to make the first of what he knew would be an endless number of apologies to an equally infinite number of recipients.
He bowed, and said, “Good afternoon, Lord Markham.”
“Grayson.” The man who was once his closest friend did not even look at him.
“Lord Denby, Lord William,” Gerard greeted the other two gentlemen who sat with Markham. He turned his attention back to the viscount. “I beg a moment of your time, Markham. If you would grant me that much, I would be eternally grateful.”
“I do not think I can spare it,” Markham said coldly.
“I understand. I will have to apologize to you here, then,” Gerard said, unwilling to be denied.
Markham’s head swiveled toward him.
“I am sorry my marriage caused you discomfort. As your friend, I should have had a care for your interests in the matter. I also offer my felicitations on your recent marriage. That is all I wished to say. Good day, gentlemen.”
Gerard tilted his head slightly, and then turned about. He found his own small table and leather armchair, releasing his pent up breath as he sat. A few moments later, he opened the paper brought to him, and attempted to relax, a task made more difficult by the stares directed his way, and the peers who approached with greetings.
“Grayson.”
He stiffened, and lowered his paper.
Markham stared at him for a long moment, and then gestured to the seat opposite him. “May I?”
“Certainly.” Gerard set aside his reading, as the viscount settled into his chair.
“You look altered.”
“I would like to think I am.”
“I would say so, if your apology was sincere.”
“It was.”
The viscount ran a hand through his dark blond locks, and smiled. “My marriage is pleasant, which eases the sting immeasurably. But tell me this, as I’ve wondered for years, did she set me aside for you?”
“No. Honestly, you were our only connection up until the moment we spoke our vows.”
“I fail to understand. Why deny my suit, but accept yours, if there was nothing between you?”
“Does any man discuss the reasons why his wife married him? Does any man ever know? Whatever her impetus, I am a most fortunate man.”
“Fortunate? You have been absent for four bloody years!” the viscount cried, studying him. “I almost did not recognize you.”
“A great deal can happen in that time span.”
“Or not happen,” Markham said. “When did you return?”
“Yesterday.”
“I spoke with Pel the day before, and she said nothing to me.”
“She was not aware.” Gerard gave a mirthless laugh. “And, unfortunately, she is not as pleased as I would wish.”
Markham settled more comfortably into the big chair, and gestured to a nearby footman for a drink. “I am surprised to hear that. You two always rubbed along famously.”
“Yes, but as you noted, I have changed. My tastes are different, as are my goals.”
“I wondered how it was that you were immune to Pel’s charms,” the viscount said, laughing. “Fate does have a way of balancing the scales, if given enough time. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to see you suffer a bit.”
Gerard gave a reluctant smile. “My wife is a mystery to me, which deepens my dilemma.”
“Isabel is a mystery to everyone. Why do you think so many wish to possess her? The challenge is irresistible.”
“Do you remember her marriage to Pelham?” Gerard asked, wondering why he had never bothered to inquire before. “I would like to hear of it, if you do.”
Markham accepted the mug offered to him by the attendant, and nodded. “There is not a peer my age who has forgotten Lady Isabel Blakely as she was in her youth. She is Sandforth’s only daughter, and he doted on her. Still does, as far as I know. It was known that her dowry was substantial, which attracted the fortune hunters, but she would have been popular, regardless. We all awaited her coming out eagerly. I had plans to offer for her even then. But Pelham was wily. He did not wait. He seduced her fresh out of the schoolroom, before any of us had a chance at wooing her.”
“Seduced?”
“Yes, seduced. It was obvious to everyone. The way they looked at one another…Theirs was a grand passion. Whenever they were in close proximity, the heat was palpable. I envied him that, the worship of a woman so obviously ripe and willing. I had hoped to have that with her, but it wasn’t to be. Even after he began to stray, she still adored him, although it was clear it pained her greatly. Pelham was a fool.”
“Hear, hear,” Gerard muttered, silently examining the flare of jealousy he felt.
Markham chuckled, and took a long drink. “You remind me of him. Or rather, you did before. He was two and twenty when he married her, and just as cocky as you. In fact, Pel used to note often how much you reminded her of Pelham. When you married, I assumed that was why. But then you kept on with your distractions, and she with hers. You confounded all of us, and angered more than a few. It seemed a waste to have Pel finally remarried, only to have it be to a man who had no interest in her.”
Gerard stared down at his hands, which were reddened and callused from hard work. He twisted the thin gold band he wore, a piece of jewelry he and Pel had bought as a lark, jesting that it would never see the light of day. He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to wear it, but now that it was on, he found he liked it. It was an odd feeling, the feeling of belonging to someone. He wondered if Pel had felt it when she wore the ring he’d bought her this afternoon, and if that was why she had rejected it so summarily.
The viscount laughed. “I really should hate you, Gray. But you make it damn difficult.”
Gerard’s brows lifted into his hairline. “I’ve done nothing to stop you from hating me.”
“You’re thinking, and brooding. If those are not signs that you have changed, I’ve no notion what would be. Cheer up. She’s yours now, and unlike myself or Pearson or any of the others, she cannot set you aside.”
“But there is Hargreaves,” he reminded.
“Ah yes, there is that,” Markham said with a broad grin. “As I said, fate does have a way.”
“I am horribly disappointed that your errant spouse is not at home,” the Duchess of Sandforth complained.
“Mother.” Isabel shook her head. “I cannot believe you hastened here simply to ogle Gray.”
“As if I wouldn’t.” Her Grace smiled with the wide grin of a naughty cat. “Bella, you should know by now that overwhelming curiosity is one of my vices.”
“One of many,” Isabel grumbled.
Her mother ignored that. “Lady Pershing-Moore came to call, and you cannot imagine how dreadful it was that she knew every minute detail of Grayson’s appearance, while I did not even know he was in town.”
“The only dreadful thing is that woman.” Isabel paced the length of her boudoir. “I’m certain she has filled as many gossip-hungry ears as she could manage in one day.”
“Is he as fine as sh
e says?”
Sighing, Isabel admitted, “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“She swore the way he looked at you was indecent, is that true as well?”
Isabel paused, and stared at her mother, gazing into eyes of rich, dark brown. The duchess was still considered a great beauty, though her auburn hair was now liberally shot with silver strands. “I am not discussing this with you, Mother.”
“Why not?” Her Grace replied, affronted. “How delicious! You have a stunning lover, and a young husband who is even more stunning. I envy you.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Isabel sighed. “You should not envy me. This is a disaster.”
“Ah ha!” Her mother leapt to her feet. “Grayson does want you. About time, if you ask me. I was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t a bit touched.”
He was touched in the head, in Isabel’s opinion. They had known one another for years, and lived together for six months with nary a spark. Now it was a conflagration whenever she merely laid eyes on him. On second thought, perhaps she was touched, too. “I need to find him a woman,” she muttered.
“You are not a woman? I was certain the doctor assured me you were.”
“Mother, good grief. Be serious, please. Grayson needs a mistress.”
Moving to the window, Isabel moved aside the sheers, and stared out at the small side garden. She could not help but remember the morning he’d stood below the window of her townhouse, and begged her to admit him. Then begged her to marry him.
Say yes, Pel.
Another memory, one fresher in her mind, was from yesterday afternoon when Gray had stood behind her in this exact spot, and made her want him, which had ruined everything.
“How does his need for a mistress relate to his wish to bed you?” the duchess asked.
“You would not understand.”
“You are correct about that.” Her mother came over, and set her hands on her shoulders. “I thought you had learned something from Pelham.”
“I learned everything from Pelham.”
“Do you not miss that passion, that fire?” Her Grace spread her arms wide, and spun around with the exuberant carelessness of a young girl, her dark green skirts twirling around her. “I live for it, Bella. I crave those indecent looks, and thoughts, and actions.”