The Seduction of His Wife (7 page)

It wasn’t meant to be.

They were interrupted in the next moment. The strawberry-blonde woman came out of the room, calling to her sister, effectively breaking his connection to the brunette. The dark beauty was gone in the next moment.

A widow would make a good companion for the next few weeks in the country. Perhaps it was time to try some fine English stock. Better yet, he should start his hunt for a wife, since he was settling out of trade from the East and into a quieter life. A much less dangerous life. A life more suited to settling down with a family. The widow might not want anything with strings attached, so he’d play whatever game she was willing to give him.

Maybe having the sisters stay on wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Though he’d have to be careful to keep his plans to seduce Richard’s sister-in-law to himself. He wasn’t sure what his friend would think. But it would be the pretty brunette’s choice as to how things unfolded from here on out.

*   *   *

Stacking the letters he’d gone through in the middle of the desk, Richard stood from the chair and stretched his back, careful not to put any strain on the stitches at his side. Damn thing was healing too slowly for his liking.

It was time he went up and talked to his wife. She needed to know what his objectives were. What he expected of her. He desired her and he had no intentions of denying it. He would convince her that that desire could be mutually beneficial.

As he walked through the house, he noticed it hadn’t changed much. The pictures of distant relatives were all lined up in the same spot they’d always been while he was growing up. He wondered if she had changed anything in the old estate.

Rounding the stairs to the master bedchambers, he could hear the low voices of Emma and her sisters; not what they said, but it seemed to be a heated dispute.

He’d not eavesdrop like some old biddy. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited for them to take notice of him. Abby saw him first since she faced the door. She tugged at Grace’s belled sleeve, silencing her.

All three women stood on taking notice of him.

He’d not make them guess why he was here. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to Emma privately before supper.”

They made their curtsies, gave one last look toward Emma, and left the room. Once they walked past him, he stepped inside the sitting room of her apartment and shut the door—not all the way, just enough to give them a few moments of solitude.

It was a small room, a settee and one chair situated around the fireplace. The furniture had been updated in this room since he last set foot in it, when his mother was alive. There was a desk off to the right corner painted in a pale yellow, and heavy green-and-gold drapery outlining a wall of windows. The room was airy and light in decor. A door led off to her bedchamber on the left, and a dressing room on the right.

When his gaze roamed back toward her, she lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “Is there something you wished to tell me that couldn’t wait till later?”

“I wanted a moment alone with you.” Was that so much to ask for?

She motioned to the chair across from where she stood. “Please. Won’t you take a seat?”

He was afraid that if he sat, he might not be able to get back up now that a tingling sensation had started over his ribs.

He waved off the offer. “I’ll be but a moment.”

She inclined her head and made no move to sit, either.

Her hair was tied in a loose bun at the back of her head; a few strands had worked free of the knot and framed her face becomingly. She had more freckles than he’d originally thought, indicating she was an outdoorswoman. There was so much he didn’t know about his wife. So much, he realized, he’d like to discover.

“What is it you wish to say?” Her question snapped him out of his observations.

“I plan to stay on for at least a month.”

She nodded, seeming neither satisfied nor unsatisfied by his admission.

“Will you leave again after a month?”

“My business plans have been ever changing over the past year. One can never be sure what tomorrow will demand of me.”

Her fingers twisted about a locket dangling over her breast. “Your father always said you’d eventually come home.”

The old man had been right: There was no escaping his duty as the Earl of Asbury. He could travel to the farthest reaches of civilization, but he’d always come back to his roots. He’d never had an easy relationship with his father, and he certainly didn’t want to think about him now.

“There are matters aside from my father that we must discuss. Ones I could not mention in the company of others.”

She seemed to stand straighter, firmer. Ah, she must understand what he wanted of her.

“You’ll have to break off any relationships you’re in. If I see another man here, it will not make for a pleasant stay for either of us. Also, I expect to resume my marital duties.”

She visibly swallowed, then turned her head away from him. Her hands clenched the wooden inlay on the top edge of the settee.

“Do you think you can demand this of me on your arrival?” she asked quietly.

“I do. I’m your husband.” And he’d be damned if she sought the arms of another now that he was home. “I’ll resume my marital rights starting tonight.”

Blotches of red covered her neck and cheeks. His wife embarrassed easily. Interesting, considering he’d caught her in a bawds’ den only days ago.

“I’m to be given no time to adjust to your presence in this household?”

There wasn’t time. He could be dead tomorrow if someone else were to strike out at him. “I think you’ve had enough time playing the countess without all that that truly entails.”

“I retire early.” She avoided his eyes. Her gaze darted from wall to window, object to object.

“Then so shall I.” The golden fringe of her lashes lowered, making it impossible to read the emotions flitting in the green depths of her eyes. He gave her a nod, not that she took notice. “I will see you in an hour for dinner.”

“Don’t expect to follow me to my bedchamber once dinner has concluded.”

Richard gave a heavy sigh. Some battles were worth fighting, and some took persuasion and cunning. Cunning was not a word he could use to describe himself whenever he was in the presence of his wife. He didn’t know how to treat a wife. Didn’t know how to speak to her.

*   *   *

She stood in her sitting room, staring at nothing. A little dumbstruck by the conversation she’d had with her husband. That was the first real exchange of words between them since their wedding day. Did he really think he could demand she perform to his bidding?

She sat heavily on the settee, folded her hands in her lap, and took in a deep breath. She had one hour till dinner. She could find a way to ward him off. It was only fair to give her at least a few days, nay, a few weeks to become used to his presence. For heaven’s sake, he hadn’t said more than a few sentences to her in over ten years. What right did he have to come into her bedchamber without so much as asking how do you fare?

And to accuse her of adultery … the swine!

She’d had offers from gentlemen over the years. In fact, she had an open invitation with her dearest friend, the Duke of Vane. But she’d never taken him up on the offer, knowing that it would ruin a friendship much more valuable to her than the companionship he offered for a mere night or two.

Simply put, she wouldn’t stand for Richard’s demands. It was easy enough to lock the doors to her bedchamber.

First, he would learn to talk civilly to her. And he would learn quickly if he wanted an heir on her. Such a shame their wedding night hadn’t been more fruitful. Not that she would have been ready for a child at fifteen. She’d learned a lot since those early days. Grown a lot.

The years she’d spent on her own had made her a stronger woman. There was no doubt in her mind that Richard would learn to be the gentleman. She would accept nothing less. Only when he could prove his worth would she leave the door to her chamber unlocked for his admittance.

A smile lifted her lips. With an anxiousness that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with outsmarting her husband, Emma stood from the settee and walked over to the bell pull. Dinner would be an interesting affair with so many people in the house. It had been an age since company had come. She wasn’t one to entertain. But this was different. This was her husband.

She always made the best out of a terrible situation, like when her husband had left after their wedding night. He hadn’t thought it necessary to tell her he had no intention of living with her. Instead, he’d penned a note to his father explaining that he’d done his duty as future earl and had made use of his wife as was expected.

She’d read that letter outlining that private fact in amongst the stacks Richard’s father kept locked in one of the desk drawers. At the time, it had been humiliating to realize Richard had never held her in any esteem. Humiliating to know he’d shared that private information with his father.

That letter no longer existed. It had been turned to ash long ago. But the memory of it burned clear in her mind to this day.

*   *   *

“Are the Mediterranean seas truly full of pirates?” Grace’s expression was full of wonder as she gazed upon Richard in hope of a good story. A romantic story, by the wistful gleam in her eyes.

Emma hated that both her sisters seemed to adore Richard’s company.

“There are. We were guarded on our trade routes, so I’ve met few in my travels.”

“Such a shame,” Abby said. “I had hoped to hear of a grand adventure.”

Emma admitted she wanted to hear a story to highlight the reasons he’d stayed away for so long. She’d not voice that aloud. Not yet.

“I wanted a romance on the high seas.” Grace stared back down at her food, picking through the green beans with her fork.

“I doubt Asbury has any decent tales for a lady’s ears,” Mr. Lioni said.

One would think that a decade of travel would have stored up its fair share of anecdotes. Emma looked down the long table to her husband. He was not smiling at Mr. Lioni’s observation or laughing with her sisters who were in want of a good tale. He took a healthy gulp of his wine and another bite of the pheasant on his plate.

“Are there really no stories to impart after all these years, Richard?” Emma asked, truly curious.

“Maybe one.”

“Do tell us,” Grace chimed in, her dinner forgotten as she leaned forward on her elbows.

“It is a romance, but I’m afraid I’ll have to edit out a great deal of the subject matter for the more delicate ears present.” Richard placed his glass on the table and leaned in closer. “I met up with a friend of old some seven years back. He leads a very private life, so I’ll not share his name.”

“What if we promise not to tell a soul?” Abby pleaded.

“I’ll still not reveal his name.” Richard raised one brow, daring Abby to say more. For once, she didn’t. “The story begins in China.”

“China,” all three Hallaways said at the same time.

Richard chuckled. “Yes, most of my travels sent me through the Orient.”

Emma hadn’t known that. How could she when her husband never wrote to tell her? A pang of something akin to jealousy had her tightening her grip on her fork. Her sisters would know as much about Richard as she. It simply wasn’t fair.

Grace sat back with a sigh. Abby stared raptly at Richard. Mr. Lioni smiled as he ate another mouthful of the bird the cook had prepared.

“I was traveling along a common trade route and stopped at a familiar…” He hesitated, tapping at his chin. “Inn.”

Probably not an inn at all, Emma thought, considering where they’d run into each other a few nights ago.

“He was ill. Had taken to a fever. Knowing the man, I couldn’t leave him, so I took him back to my ship and brought on a doctor. It took a few months, but he finally made it back on his feet.”

“What was wrong with him?” Abby’s eyebrows creased in a frown.

“The cause of his condition is far more romantic than the underlying truth.” Richard put his napkin on the table and lifted his wineglass between his hands. “He was in love with a beautiful Englishwoman. A lady of decent standing. He was so much in love with this woman that he couldn’t think reasonably when she disappeared abroad.”

Grace gasped and placed a hand over her heart. “What happened to her?”

“It matters not in this story.”

“Did he find her again?” Emma asked.

How horrible for the woman to have found love only to lose it so tragically. Not so much different from her own story. She’d been infatuated with Richard since they were both young. And she had been no more than a nuisance to him. His leaving had proved that. It had taken her five long years to figure out that she was unwanted by the one man she was meant for.

“Yes, and in a rather unlikely place.” Richard stared back at her, eyes narrowed as though he could read her thoughts or at least interpret her pensive gaze, which was probably full of longing. She quickly looked down to her plate and busied herself with cutting off a piece of pheasant.

“She had married another in her youth,” he continued. “He died tragically from what I hear and left her on her own in a country far different from ours. Because she was a woman, she could not speak for herself.”

“Doesn’t sound so different from England.” Abby snorted. “It’s not as if we have any rights.”

“Oh, but you do. It did not matter that she was English. She had no protection. No man to speak for or defend her. She was sold into slavery.”

Emma’s fork chinked against her plate. Surely this story was false. Someone would have saved the woman from such a fate. Perhaps Richard embellished the story to make it more interesting.

“How is that possible?” Abby’s voice wavered. “She must have had relatives who could come and take her away from such a horrible place.”

“I’m inclined to believe the same thing,” Emma added.

“Ah, but she had no relatives, and she was in terrible circumstances of her own.”

“What happened to her?” Grace asked, her voice breathless. It was as if this was the most enthralling story she’d ever heard.