Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,70
like.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself. And do pardon me. It was a silly, sentimental impulse that brought me here.”
“Of course.” Politeness kept her from pursuing the matter, and perhaps she was making too much of it, anyway. “Would you care to stay for tea?”
“Thank you, but I mustn’t impose on you any further.” As he studied her keenly, from the slim-fitting spencer down to her pale green skirt, a subtle darkness shadowed his face. “May I say, you’re looking exceptionally fine today. There’s a softness about you that wasn’t there last evening.”
The ball. She had nearly forgotten it after the tumultuous events of the night. The searing memories delivered a flush to her cheeks, and she glanced away, as if he could guess that she had behaved like a wanton. “It was pleasant to see you at the Cuthberts’. I do wish we’d had more time to chat, but Drake and I—”
“It’s Wilder, isn’t it?” Hailstock grasped her by the arms. “He’s won you over.”
“Please!” she chided. “You’re hurting me.”
Compressing his lips, he relaxed his hold, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Forgive me, my dear. It is just that I’m concerned he will misuse you. The man is a common rogue.”
“He is a gentleman,” Alicia said, surprising herself with her fierceness. She could not bear for this haughty aristocrat to belittle her husband. He must have done so at the ball; that would explain the animosity she had sensed between them. “Oh, I cannot deny that Drake coerced me into marriage. But the deed is done. And ever since, he has been nothing but kind and generous to me and my family.”
“I see.” The marquess raised a cold eyebrow at her. “Clearly, you have no inkling of what your kind and generous husband has done for Gerald. Or where your brother spends his time these days.”
Through her anger, Alicia felt a niggling of alarm. “Don’t speak in riddles. Tell me.”
“As you wish, then, though I would have preferred to shield you from such an indelicate matter.” His mouth curled in distaste. “You see, my dear, Drake Wilder has lured your brother back to the gaming tables.”
* * *
As was his custom, Drake strolled through the club at six o’clock in the evening to survey its readiness. In the drawing room, most of the round tables were empty at so early an hour. He nodded to a croupier who counted gambling discs, for no coin was permitted in here. To minimize distractions, all debts and credits were settled in an office down the corridor, jokingly known as the Devil’s Exchequer.
The room was tastefully elegant with its tall columns of Sienna marble and the forest-green draperies over the arched windows. To keep attention focused on the game, no paintings or mirrors adorned the pale green walls. Fires burned cheerily at either end of the chamber. The well-padded leather chairs encouraged gentlemen to linger at the tables. Wine would flow freely, another inducement to deep play.
Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed making the rounds. But today, he gave the room only a cursory glance. In his mind, he kept seeing Alicia as she’d been that morning, cuddled against him in slumber, all soft and rosy, a woman well pleasured. Her tousled blond hair had felt like silk to his fingertips, and he’d had the fierce desire to bury himself inside her so that she would awaken to his possession.
Instead, he had eased out of bed. He had used her enough already. And there could be no other reason to stay.
How she had surprised him, his lady wife. Beneath her cool elegance lived a warm, sensual woman. She had been a virgin, and he had intended to tame her gently. But her eagerness had made him react with all the finesse of a rutting bull. Never before had he experienced such a driving need to mate with a woman. Passion for her had controlled him, when he was accustomed to being the one in control. Even now, he felt the violent urge to stake his claim in the most primitive way possible. He wanted to impregnate Alicia, to get her with child, his child.
“Ho, there, Wilder.”
Drake jerked his attention to a pair of gentlemen, one tall and gangly, the other short and rotund, who stood by a table near the drawing room door. Though most of the crowd would arrive at a fashionably later hour, a few members already had straggled into the club. Unfortunately, these two were imbeciles.