Free Mutual Consent by Gayle Buck Page B

half over dinner in his bride’s company, making several attempts to launch small conversation, but to all his efforts she replied mostly in monosyllables.
    The earl studied her across the table as he drank from his wineglass, and he wondered what he had possibly seen in her at their first meeting to give him the impression of intelligence and suppressed passion. She had been nothing but meek and smiling and unobtrusive the entire evening. She was lovely enough, he supposed, critically surveying an attractive face framed by the stunning auburn hair, her graceful neck and shoulders and rounded bosom. But she was without personality and he discovered that, without some spark to ignite him, her beauty left him entirely unmoved. He could scarcely have been more eager to leave her for more stimulating company.
    His thoughts curled idly to the lady to whom he was engaged that evening. He smiled faintly, and anticipation put a peculiar edge to his pleasant thoughts.
    The covers were removed and his wife was rising from the table, preparatory to leaving him to his wine, as custom demanded. “I shall say a good night now, my lord, since I know that you will be going out later,” said Babs.
    “Indeed, I shall probably not join you for coffee,” he said.
    She inclined her head, perfectly understanding that her company would not be required anymore that evening.
    Lord Chatworth rose politely in a show of courtesy as she walked out of the dining room.
    As the door swung shut, he sat down and picked up his wineglass. At the butler’s inquiry, he waved away the suggestion of a fresh bottle of claret. “I shall finish what I have. That will be all, Smithers,” he said.
    “Very good, my lord.” The butler bowed and exited the dining room, leaving his lordship to his solitary after-dinner wine.
    Shortly thereafter, the earl also left the dining room, but he did not rejoin his wife in the drawing room. He went upstairs to change into evening clothes and emerged to request that his carriage to be brought around.
    Within a very few minutes the Earl of Chatworth settled into his carriage and rolled away from the town house.
    It was not a long ride and quite soon the carriage stopped. The earl got out and climbed the steps of a fashionable town house. He rang the bell. The door was opened without delay and the porter bowed to him, accepting his hat and gloves. He was expected and was shown immediately upstairs into a private sitting room decorated in tawny yellow silks. The bric-a-brac was Oriental, as were the hangings, the carpet, and the multitude of sofa cushions.
    Lord Chatworth had been a frequent visitor to the private apartment and he was therefore incurious of the mysterious aura of the furnishings of the room. He poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter on the occasional table and made himself comfortable on one of the settees. He fully expected to be kept waiting as punishment for his sins, and he was not disappointed.
    Some twenty minutes later the hangings that hid one of the doors twitched aside and the lady of the house entered the room. She stood quite still, allowing her gentleman visitor a full span of moments to study her. She was a sloe-eyed, raven-haired beauty, her hair cropped in wispy short curls that enhanced the size of her magnificent eyes. Her sensual mouth was naturally red and was at the moment caught in a delicious pout. She was attired in a revealing gown of thin silk, decorated with a froth of lace at the low décolletage.
    Lord Chatworth felt desire rise in him at sight of her exquisite beauty. He made no effort to disguise the expression in his eyes. He smiled, that peculiar smile that hinted at so little and hid so much. “Lady Cartier.” His voice was low and caressing.
    As she regarded the earl, the lady’s own eyes were quite cool. She did not return his smile. She walked toward him and her graceful movement allowed the silk to hint even more vividly that she was wearing little or nothing