Her Husband’s Lover. Madelynne Ellis

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СКАЧАТЬ the stamina of you young bloods any more. I’ll bid you goodnight, milord. Gentlemen. Emma will ensure that Grafton sees to your wishes. Do forgive my atrocious manners.’

      ‘Don’t worry, Father. I’ll see everyone off.’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course you will. Goodnight, Emma. Mind you don’t go needling, Lord Darleston. She can be quite the prickly philosopher, but you mustn’t take her too much to heart.’

      No, she oughtn’t to be taken at all seriously. Emma enfolded her fists around the fabric of her skirts, whilst she maintained a well-practised smile. Silly old fool didn’t believe her capable of a single eloquent thought. And he really ought to have considered, before inviting them, the fact that his guests would go late to their beds. Now she and Lyle would have to play host and hostess, wherever Lyle happened to be.

      Her father leaned towards her, meaning, she realised, to press a kiss to her cheek, but when Emma stiffened all the way from her toes to her lips, he straightened at once. ‘Well, goodnight, dear.’ He tottered away, yawning into his teacup, and looking strangely frail. Perhaps Amelia had a point about the London season. Mr Hill’s deteriorating health would likely make it impossible before long.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, recalling Lord Darleston. ‘He never does stay up past ten o’clock.’

      ‘No matter.’ Darleston’s soft drawl coiled around her pleasure centres. It was quite wrong that a man’s voice could make one feel quite so tremulous, not to mention it being a new and not altogether comfortable experience.

      ‘He does you a disservice, I think.’

      ‘What!’ Her throat grew tight all around the neckline of her gown, and another blush began crawling across her skin. It was the curse of being fair. ‘He says only what he believes to be true.’ The fact that she had run his household from the age of fourteen had entirely passed him by.

      ‘And do you believe I should disregard your chatter as nonsense? Do you often speak thus, Mrs –?’

      ‘Langley,’ she supplied, growing hotter still. ‘And no, milord, I do not. Although you are at liberty to reach your own conclusion about whether what I spout is twaddle.’

      Darleston gave a deep throaty laugh that rolled like a purr and sent sparks of heat to her breasts. He was quite the most … No, it was wrong to think like that and positively discourteous to her husband. Not that they had a conventional relationship. Oh, to hell with it. If she couldn’t be honest in her own thoughts, then she would never hear any truth. Darleston was beautiful. Not in a dandified, fashionable sort of way, but in an animal way. Something about him yanked at her as if there were a knot tied in the centre of her chest and he kept tugging on the other end.

      Emma focused on a point midway down his chest. She dared not glance any lower, nor look up into his face for too long for fear that he would recognise the heat in her gaze. She’d seen other women look at men in this way, but she’d never done so herself. Looking led to touching, and touching was something she could never do.

      ‘How is it you happen to be with us?’ she asked, eyes downcast, as she retreated into the safety of an armchair.

      Darleston leaned against the mantel. ‘I did intend to stay elsewhere. Alas, that didn’t work out. He had … other plans.’ Darleston’s lips quirked upwards but failed to form a smile. ‘However, as your father had already kindly extended an invitation, and I was already quite nearby …’

      ‘And do you like it? What you’ve seen?’

      ‘I’ve scarcely taken more than a passing glance. I understand you have a hundred and twenty or so acres, but I’m sure I’ll find it charming, much as I find the lady of the house.’

      Butterflies fanned the flames in her chest. It was an easy compliment for him to bestow, but not one she heard very often. Few sought her acquaintance or pleasure, preferring Amelia’s vivaciousness. ‘Strictly speaking, that would be my sister, not I.’

      He turned his head to spy her sister out. Amelia sat at the centre of a ring of gentlemen upon a tapestry-covered pouffe. The week was clearly to be one rife with trouble. Just as Emma was about to intrude upon her sister’s admirers, the drawing-room door swung open, admitting a blond gentleman.

      Emma’s concern switched to her husband. His expression was one of wistful delight, which transformed in an instant to one of rapturous joy. Good heavens, Lyle, she thought. Must you advertise the wickedness you’ve been about? She quickly turned her head, praying that, from what she could descry of the other gentlemen’s thoughts, they merely saw Lyle as merry and not licentious.

      ‘Darleston! God in heavens, what the devil are you doing here?’ Lyle crossed the room in several bounds. He stepped past her without so much as a glance in her direction and enfolded Lord Darleston in a fond embrace.

      ‘Langley!’ Darleston sounded equally surprised to find Lyle wrapped tightly around his person.

      ‘Heavens, man. How long has it been? It must have been years. You’ve met my wife, I see.’

      Lyle turned his head towards her and graced her with a nod. A fantastic smile lit his face. Emma frowned at him. She couldn’t see why Lord Darleston’s presence should make him quite so joyous. Then again, Emma sucked down an unsteady breath. No! No, it simply couldn’t be. The first man she’d felt remotely … No! Oh, but it was. She could tell just from the way their arms stayed around one another and the embrace encompassed not only the brushing of chests but of thighs and hips too.

      They knew each other, and not just in the platonic sense.

      ‘Yes, I knew of the wedding.’ Darleston pulled away first. He gave a swift glance around the room but the other occupants were still crowded around Amelia and seemingly uninterested in anything else. ‘My father made certain to send me the newspaper cutting. Happy, I trust?’ He raised his eyebrows and glanced first at Lyle and then at her as if he was seeing them quite anew. ‘Mrs Langley.’ His lips formed her name, but he didn’t speak the words aloud. Lightning flashed in his eyes.

      ‘Yes. Absolutely.’ Lyle slapped him upon the back.

      ‘Children?’

      Emma bowed her head. She stared at her hands clasped tight around her teacup. Why did everyone have to pounce upon that particular subject as if breeding were the only possible purpose in taking a bride? Or one couldn’t possibly be happy without a dozen pale-faced imps running about one’s feet? She prayed they never had a child. Not a single blessed one. Her mother had carried fifteen of the little devils. See where it had got her – a cold box in a rat-infested cemetery, rained on and covered in moss.

      Lyle, clearly noticing her distress, waved aside the question. ‘None yet. What about you?’ He cast her an encouraging smile. He might take ridiculous risks, but Lyle also worked hard to maintain at least the illusion of an affectionate marriage.

      Darleston gave a vehement shake of his head. ‘Much to the Earl’s vexation.’

      ‘But there is a Lady Darleston?’ Emma ventured.

      ‘There is.’ His very abruptness explained all that was missing from his response. Likely he and his wife were not on intimate terms, assuming they tolerated each other’s company at all. Perhaps they even lived apart, occupying one grand house apiece.

      Lyle slapped Darleston СКАЧАТЬ