Sabrina put her fingers to her lips, imagining this power and using it to demand…pleasure from Aldington. It almost seemed impossible, but she’d already demanded he visit her bed. This would be easy after that, wouldn’t it?
Evie abruptly rose. “I’m going to fetch the book so we can have a nice, in-depth discussion. I’ll also have Foster bring sherry—you’ll thank me for it. Then, after we have finished your education, we’ll go shopping.” Eyes glowing with enthusiasm, she took herself from the drawing room, leaving Sabrina to stare after her in wonder and perhaps a bit of mental paralysis.
This was not at all what she’d imagined when she’d gone to Lucien for help. She’d never considered all that she was missing. How could she? It seemed, however, this was precisely what she needed.
She only hoped she was up to the challenge of seduction, especially in the face of a man who didn’t want to be seduced.
Chapter 5
Constantine didn’t stay out quite as late as he’d planned. Through the course of the day, he’d convinced himself that he needed to visit his wife tonight. The sooner he got her with child, the better. Perhaps they might even enjoy it. But to do that, she’d need to be open to such a thing, if her newfound courage actually extended to the bedchamber.
There was only one way to find out.
Garbed in loose-fitting breeches and a banyan, he went to her chamber and rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
Every muscle in his body tightened as he opened the door and stepped inside. She rose from the single chair in front of the hearth, and Constantine nearly choked.
Her slender frame was draped in a dark pink dressing gown that hugged her…curves? Yes, she had curves—a rather lush flare from her narrow waist to her rounded hip and a surprisingly full bosom. How had he never noticed this before?
Because she’d never dressed like this before. The gown formed a deep vee leading into her cleavage. His mouth went dry as his gaze followed the trail, and he realized he could just detect her nipples through the thin silk.
Holy hell. This was not the shy, terrified wife he knew.
“I’m pleased you came to visit,” she said. “However, given the state of your hand, I think you’re right that we should wait until tomorrow or perhaps the following night to resume our marital duties.”
Marital duties. His brain was having a hard time reconciling that last word in particular while he tried—in vain—not to stare at her breasts. As his cock grew hard and lengthened, he acknowledged there would be nothing dutiful about taking her to bed tonight.
Except there is, his mind argued. Marriage was nothing if not duty, and begetting an heir was at the top of the list of duties.
This was a moot debate—even inside his head—since she was turning him away. The irony that he would have eagerly tumbled her, and that last night she’d asked him to and he’d refused, was not lost on him. He took a deep breath in an effort to cool his arousal.
“I’m surprised at your change of…mind.” Had he been about to say heart? There were no hearts involved in this union—of that he was certain.
She gave him a placid smile. “I want to be a supportive wife. How was your day at Westminster?” Her hands were clasped at her waist so that her upper arms were pressed against her breasts. As if he needed more help in directing his attention to them.
He forced himself to focus on her question. Westminster… “It was fine, thank you. Productive, I think.”
“Indeed? What were you working on?”
“The apothecaries act,” he responded without thinking.
“I don’t think I know about that. What is it?”
Constantine blinked, his brain catching up with the conversation. He didn’t typically discuss his work with her, but then she’d never asked about it before. “I’m, ah, working on a law that would require apothecaries, and other medical practitioners, to be regulated.”
She tipped her head to the side, her gaze trained on his. “Why do you think that’s important?”
“The current system is dangerous. Apothecaries are conducting surgeries and chemists are dispensing medicine—there needs to be order and regulation to ensure these practitioners are trained and educated. Many apothecaries are illiterate. The College of Physicians are demanding changes to the bill, as is the Society of Apothecaries. We met today to try to find some compromise.”
“And you think you were successful?” Her interest seemed…genuine.
“Perhaps. You can’t possibly find this interesting?” It was of particular import to him—if not for a rogue apothecary who’d also called himself a surgeon, his mother might be alive today. But his wife couldn’t know that.
“I do, actually. My mother’s chemist prescribes a dizzying array of tonics and medicinals. I can’t imagine she needs half of them. She may not need any of them, in fact.”
“That is troubling.” An overzealous apothecary was the reason Constantine’s mother had died. He’d bled her repeatedly, which Constantine’s father had allowed, and his mother hadn’t survived. “Have you tried to talk with your mother about the matter?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes, but it was more than that. There was fear, yes, that was it. This was the wife he recognized.
“I couldn’t ever do that,” she said quietly, her gaze moving to the coals glowing in the hearth.
He hadn’t meant to cause her distress. “How was your day?” he asked, hoping to divert her thoughts.
“Lovely, thank you. I’m afraid I spent all my quarterly allowance as well as some of your money.”
He’d thought he supplied her with enough funds, but perhaps he didn’t. “Do you require a larger allowance?”
“Probably not. I needed several new items for my wardrobe. I didn’t add anything last Season.”
“You don’t need to justify the expenses. I’m sure they were necessary. I’ll increase your allowance. I don’t want you to feel as though you can’t have what you need. Or want,” he added, because why shouldn’t she? His gaze moved over her dressing gown once more, and again he felt a strong, undeniable attraction. “Is that new?” He vaguely gestured toward her.
“Yes. Do you like it?” Unclasping her hands, she turned—she turned—and the gown gently flowed as she slowly spun about. With the movement, he could see her legs and thighs, and the enticing curve of her posterior. Every bit of moisture left his mouth, and he struggled to swallow.
“I, ah, do.” He had to cough the cobwebs out of his throat. “Yes. It’s very nice.” Nice? It was bloody tantalizing.
She took a step toward him, and he wondered if perhaps he wouldn’t leave after all. She was incredibly tempting, and right now his hand didn’t hurt in the slightest. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he still had hands. She did, though. And arms and smoothly sloping shoulders, and a captivating collarbone, along with a gorgeous neck he suddenly ached to kiss.
She’d gripped her hands together again, rather tightly this time, as evidenced by the paleness of her knuckles. “I need to ask you something, and I hope you won’t find it gauche. Do you prefer the company of men?”