The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,90

the nurse couldn’t handle Oliver’s meal, but the fact that Elizabeth had forgotten. One night with a man and she was already slipping back to her selfish ways? It couldn’t be borne.

After turning him over to Mrs. Dalton, Elizabeth fairly flew down the steps and arrived in the doorway of the drawing room at one minute past. Conspicuously, Lord Constantine was absent. Where could he be? He didn’t have a baby to feed.

“You’re late,” Lord Trestin said, rising and giving her a stately bow.

Celeste, too, rose. She laughed at her husband. “At least I’m not the only one.” Then she crossed the room and reached for Elizabeth’s hands. “Dearest, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Elizabeth stepped back to see her friend better. “Marriage looks well on you.” She took in Celeste’s modest evening finery and artfully styled yet simple curls. It seemed Celeste had truly left behind her common origins. If they hadn’t been best friends for ages, she might have been wary of the beautiful lady before her. “How is country life?”

Celeste smiled demurely. “Perfectly bland.” She arched a lascivious eyebrow at her handsome husband. “Sometimes.”

Perhaps the courtesan wasn’t entirely suppressed.

Lord Trestin cleared his throat. “She means we’re busy from dawn until dusk, as she’s taken it into her head to redecorate every room in the house and I can’t seem to receive immunity from the list of tasks required to please her.”

“I exhaust him,” Celeste drawled. “That is what he means.” She looked sidelong at him as if expecting a certain reply.

He was blushing. Elizabeth almost chuckled aloud. But then he drew himself up and, with a great show of fortitude, drawled, “There is only one way to get an heir,” in a velvety voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Her heart melted at that. Where was Con? This was her version of Trestin. Proper, yes, but indulgent with his wife. Provincial to Elizabeth’s tastes, but a caring man who desired to please Celeste above all else.

In that moment, Elizabeth knew that she and Nicholas had been doomed from the start.

Watching Trestin gaze tenderly at Celeste also made Elizabeth’s burgeoning feelings for Con sticky-sweet. Celeste’s marriage seemed like a fairy-tale ending and something rather ordinary. Two friends who were joined in holy matrimony. Not a momentary flare of passion, but a trusting intimacy that would stand the test of time. Was such a thing possible for her?

Celeste moved to stand next to Trestin. A sinking feeling came into Elizabeth’s belly. The polite banter had, evidently, ended.

Where was Con?

“Do tell us,” Celeste asked, though she didn’t lose her sultry smile, “what has brought you back to Devon? I thought you were done with the doldrums we rustics appreciate so much.”

Trestin squeezed her side as though he agreed they were rustics inundated with doldrums…and it suited him very much.

“I like the cottage well enough,” Elizabeth replied, not wanting to miss an opportunity to point out that she would rather have stayed there, even if she did like seeing her friend so happy.

Celeste clasped her hands together. “I know you don’t give a fig about propriety, but I must. It’s perfectly normal to host an impromptu house party at Worston, but I’m sure you can infer the inappropriateness of closeting you two together at the cottage without the least bit of chaperonage.”

Elizabeth chose a Louis XVII chair and seated herself with as much grace as she could muster considering she was being called on the carpet. “I was counting on it.”

Celeste pressed her lips together briefly. She’d always tried to be Elizabeth’s conscience, perhaps because she was the older by almost eight years. It could be fatiguing at times. “Does he mean to marry you?”

Sometimes, it could be brutal.

Of course he wasn’t going to marry her. She could almost shout it, for the pain it caused her. No man had ever wanted to marry her. No man had even looked at her with one tenth the fervency with which Trestin guarded Celeste.

That wasn’t entirely true. Constantine did look at her that way…when he thought no one was watching. That was the cruel truth: he didn’t want to want her.

He certainly wasn’t going to marry her.

She bit her lip before any of that could escape her. She’d never admit her loneliness, or her foolish hope. Especially not to the two people she least wanted to judge her.

“There is no plan to marry,” she replied breezily, as if it didn’t matter.

“He can’t afford a wife,” Lord Trestin said bluntly. He glanced at Celeste,