The art of seducing a hu.., p.8
The Art of Seducing a Husband, page 8
“Oh, good question.” Finna thought for a moment. “If we put them in the front, but to the far side of the box, Anthony will not have an escape. Also, they will not be in the line of sight for the performance, so all eyes will face away from them.”
“Yes, entrapment is important, as we know his customary defense is to flee,” Giselle agreed.
“That is fine, but what am I supposed to do?” Jemma needed a direction and a place to begin practicing. He would be on guard now that he knew her intentions, so she would have to make all her opportunities have the biggest affect.
A scratch at the door heralded Mr. Potbuckle, who managed to paw the door open enough to squeeze his portly body through. Without waiting for permission, the dog jumped onto the settee and nuzzled his way onto Jemma’s lap. It was a comfort to her as she stroked his silken fur.
“Humph, traitor.” Giselle chided her favorite pet for his defection. But she smiled and continued. “The scarlet dress would be a good choice, I think. It will hug you in all the right places.”
Jemma feared and adored the dress in question. Its bodice was of an almost flesh tone, with a heavily pleated deep scarlet overlay at her breast. It gave the illusion she wore nothing but the overlay when she walked toward the full-length picture glass. And the deep red satin gloves were near perfect in their design, draping her arm and fingers like a second skin.
“Oh, I agree. The scarlet will set the tone and set Anthony on edge the moment he sees her. I suggest, though, that we meet him at the theater, because if I know Anthony he would demand she change if we are still at the residence,” Finna said.
“Very true. Now, my dear, as for what to do. I would say think about what seemed to make Anthony the most uncomfortable last night and those should go on the list. I would also suggest perhaps when you get seated you inch your chair closer to his until your legs are brushing. Also, your chair should be a bit in front of his. He will have a marvelous view of your chest that way. I will tell Fanny to keep your headpiece short. We wouldn’t want a stray feather sending the man into a sneezing fit.” Giselle instructed.
Jemma smiled at that. She was beginning to think of little gestures that would require them to touch or for him to get closer if he wasn’t going to be rude. He would fight this to the end, so what she did must have an impact.
“Here is another a bit of advice. No man can ignore the curve of a woman’s hip or the length of her back. If you can find a way while in your seat to lean over and give him that view, I believe you will not be disappointed. Also, at Drury Lane, there are several small alcoves set off along the main hallway leading to the boxes. They are curtained off, often to house boxes of wine or glasses during the busy season. If one was to pull another into one of those cubbies, it would afford them quite a lot of privacy as long as they were quiet. Not a place for moaning or squawking,” Finna warned.
Giselle laughed, but her face was red enough Jemma surmised there was a story there she might not want to have retold.
“What say you to luncheon out today? I know a lovely little inn close to a certain man’s bachelor apartments. If we leave in the hour, we will have time to stop at the booksellers. I am hoping to find a new read or two. I have read my way through my entire library.” Finna rose and made her way to the door. “I must go home and change, but if you two would like to meet me there, it is a lovely day to walk.”
And she was gone. Jemma couldn’t help but notice how the energy in the very air changed to match when Finna arrived and again when she was absent.
“I am still very piqued at Anthony for his behavior. At a later date I plan to have a word with him,” Giselle complained as she sat with her feet up on a tufted footstool, rubbing her belly. She fairly glowed from the inside out. Jemma hoped one day she would have a belly filled with a growing baby to rub.
“Might I be allowed to watch when that day comes?”
“Oh, you will have a prime spot, I promise,” Giselle assured her.
The theater was the last place Anthony wanted to be tonight. After his failed dinner encounter, avoiding Jemma would be preferable, but as she clearly stated she would not be fading into the shadows, where his new wife went the Ton would expect him to pander along. Waiting until the very last moment to leave his residence, he hoped they would relegate him to the back of the box in the darkness to brood in peace. This was, however, the theater, and it never started on time. People filled the lobby from all walks of life, chatting away with no hurry to find their seats.
And, as luck would have it, if you asked the young usher who noticed Anthony as one who probably had a box and swept him into a side staircase, he would face Jemma even sooner. Wading through the masses didn’t seem like that much of a trial after all.
The outer room the boxes opened to mingled those elite families of the Ton who were in London early. They drank champagne, catching up from the long winter in the country.
In the middle of the crowd of people, smiling for the world, stood Jemma.
Heart hammering in his chest, Anthony’s breath seized in his throat. The woman in question was not the Jemma he said vows to a month and a half ago. In her place stood a goddess in a deep red dress that brought out the rich chestnut of her hair and the alabaster of her skin. The red muted by an underdress the same color as her skin. Sweat formed on his upper lip and gooseflesh rose on his arms. Standing in front of him was not a reserved, obedient woman, but a fierce, self-possessed lady.
Having not yet been noticed, Anthony considered fleeing, unready for such a public onslaught.
As if his very thought drew her attention, Jemma turned and made eye contact, dipping her head slightly in acknowledgement. Damn.
Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, he proceeded into the room and next to his wife.
“Good evening, my lord.” She dipped a small curtsey. “I was worried you would miss the rise of the curtain. As this is my very first play, I had not wanted you to miss it.”
“My dear, this is your first time attending the theater? What must that school have been like for you? Such a horrible time. I am so happy Lord Wolverton freed you from such a dismal existence,” said the woman standing with Jemma.
Since the woman was not speaking directly to him, Anthony remained silent, unable to take his eyes off his wife, gowned for all the Ton to see in an all but scandalous dress. Of which he couldn’t help but enjoy.
“Well, being as far from London as we were, it would have been difficult to get us here. Also, the nuns didn’t feel that thespian pursuits were proper for young girls.”
“I say, Wolverton, you have outdone yourself. Lady Wolverton appears to be a gem. Wolverton? Are you quite well?”
“What, oh, yes. I must agree with you, Lady Misthrup. Thank you,” he managed, but in his mind the woman’s comment about Jemma being a gem hummed. He would never see her as anything but Gem from now on. And that dress made the idea even easier. Far away it gave the illusion of her being naked under the sheer fabric, but close up the red deepened and hugged her every curve. If she wasn’t sewn into the damned thing, he would give a month’s earnings.
“I do apologize for my tardiness. It’s a dammed crush out there,” he said by way of explaining his lateness. It seemed to make sense, as Lady Misthrup nodded, clicking her tongue. “I was hoping I could have a private word before we all head into the boxes, my dear.” He leaned, realizing his error, when his nose filled with the scent of something flowery with a spicy undertone. He quelled his audible groan, but his physique reacted in other ways.
“Ah, there you are, Lord Wolverton. We were waiting for your arrival before we got settled.” Lady Harwich came up beside him. “Shall we?” She motioned for the box in question, giving him no alternative but to follow. He would make Finna suffer for her trouble making.
The orchestra was already playing the first awkward and haphazard strands to warm up, giving the signal that the play would begin soon.
Finna motioned him through first, forcing him to slide to the front of the box to the seat most closed off to the door. No running for him tonight. He glanced back in time to catch the devious smile on Giselle’s face. She would also need punishment for her meddling.
Once seated, Jem, now and forevermore all he would call her, settled in next to him and promptly slid her chair closer and a bit forward. He assumed so she would have a clear view of her first play.
“I was not aware you had never been to a play.”
She turned, and her smile took his breath away. Her cheeks pink from excitement, her eyes bright in the candlelight. The urge to kiss her took him. He had to gain control before he embarrassed them both.
“Yes, there were never any social outings at school and James only ever came to visit. He never requested me to visit him.”
“So, I assume your choice of attire was made without you understanding theater etiquette?”
“How do you mean?” she asked, appearing unconcerned with his tone.
“Your dress seems a bit risqué for such an event, don’t you think?”
Jem looked down at her dress, tipping and turning her head to get a full view. “I have received nothing but positive compliments on my dress. All the women who commented asked of the modiste who designed it. I am sure it is perfect for the occasion.”
“I am uncertain it is a dress that I would approve of my wife wearing in public.” He tried a different tack to see if that flustered her at all.
“My lord, since you and I are married in name only, I do not believe you hold that much sway over how I choose to portray myself to the world. If you would care to rectify the situation, I would be happy to discuss your opinions about my person.”
With that the lights dimmed, the curtain lifted, and behind him the sound of a poorly stifled snort came from Giselle’s direction.
Anthony sat back, frustrated. He knew damned well there was not one improper thing about her gown. However, the thoughts it led to were as improper as could be. He watched her lean forward, enthralled with the opening scene as the actors moved across the stage with practiced gestures and lines. From his angle and her position perched on the edge of her seat, leaning over the box, he was sure any moment her breasts would spill forth out of her tight bodice for his viewing pleasure. The hard on, he noted, was not helping his mood. He sighed and attempted to concentrate on the play rather than Jem.
When he might have felt more like himself and less like an animal she sat back, rubbing her thigh against his, then settled her dainty gloved hand on his leg to lean in.
“Oh, this is fascinating. It is like the story has jumped out of my mind and off the page. Don’t you think so?”
Anthony, still mesmerized, staring at their point of contact. He could almost see the heat race through him and settle once again in an erection. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to. His tongue dried like a prune in his mouth. And again, her scent—this time her hair, rose water and lemons—heightened it even more. He was caught up in a cloud of sensations. Leaning toward her, he inhaled more of her. A drug he would go crazy without.
And just like that, the noise on the stage built to a crescendo and she moved away, leaving a cold spot with little to entertain in her wake. He sat back again, gaining his bearings, but his eyes moved to her back. It was long and straight. Anthony followed it from her soft as silk neck down to where that damned dress displayed her rounded hips to advantage and what he knew would be a perfectly heart-shaped bottom.
After what seemed an eternity, the curtain dropped for intermission. Anthony had only rallied his traitorous impulses into submission by going over his crop projections for the year at his estate. It was a good thing he had seen a Midsummer Night’s Dream several times before, so he would not seem the fool if she asked him about it.
“Oh, that was lovely. A bit risqué, but as I had pictured it when I read it myself.” Jem beamed as they all filed out to enjoy more champagne and light refreshments.
Before Finna and Giselle could whisk her away, he took her by the elbow. “I must request a word in private,” he whispered in her ear and led her toward a corridor away from prying eyes.
“Of course, Anthony. What is it?” she asked innocently enough.
Anthony couldn’t talk, not yet. Because what could he say without sounding like the worst ass? Nothing. Finding an alcove that was not filled with crates of wine, Anthony slid her in and pulled the curtain. He opened his mouth to speak, as servants’ footfalls came toward them. He held a finger to his lips, and she nodded. Once the footsteps passed, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Until looking down into his wife’s big expectant eyes. Forgetting entirely, he dragged her into the alcove to give her a proper set down about her attire and wanton behavior. The animal in him raged, tugging her close so that it was more than their thighs brushing one another. From her breasts crushed into his waistcoat to her knee sliding in between his legs, there was no denying their touch. He might have rallied his thoughts, but Jem slid her tongue out and licked her full plump lips, and the need to taste her overcame him.
His lips didn’t crush her mouth as he would have liked. Anthony reined in his baser desires. They were, after all, a hair’s breadth from being caught. Like a decadent dessert, a taste would have to be rich enough to sate him. But when she leaned in and gave a slight moan, the reins came loose. Her hands wound up his neck and buried in his neatly tied cravat, mussing the hair at the nape of his neck.
His own hands cupped her face, drawing her ever closer. Heat and desire raged like a wildfire through him. He refocused his hands on the swell of hips that had tortured him for the last hour or more, squeezing the softness and noticing his hands fit perfectly. A brief tug and she was rubbing against him.
At no point did Jem appear shocked or traumatized by a man taking her into an alcove and kissing her senseless. For once he was thankful the watchful eyes of the Ton were but a curtain away. It would be the only thing keeping him from taking her right there.
“Jem, you drive me to distraction,” he growled in her ear.
And with that, the temperature in the small alcove cooled by several degrees. “What did you call me?”
He looked down into eyes no longer hazed by desire but flared with an emotion he did not understand. She pulled away. The motion was subtle, but his body screamed against it.
“What did you call me?” she asked again.
“Pardon?” Trying to clear his brain and remember, his voice had not been where his concentration was. “Jem, I called you Jem.”
She straightened then and made a step back, furthering their distance. “I would ask that you reframe from that. I do not wish to be called such.”
He didn’t know what had happened or what he stepped in, but knew it was significant. “I apologize for taking such liberties. It won’t happen again.”
“We should get back. We will be missed if we are not at least in the outer room for a glass of champagne.”
“Of course,” was all Anthony could manage, and he pulled back the curtain when he knew the way was clear and led her back to the crowd, who did not know of them being gone in the least, save Finna, and Giselle who smiled at first, then after noticing the grim expression on Jem—Jemma’s face turned sour looks at him.
Jemma moved to the retiring room and while Finna headed to follow, Giselle stomped toward Anthony.
“What in the bloody hell did you do this time?” she spat. He half expected her to clobber him upside the head.
“In perfect honesty, I have no idea.”
CHAPTER NINE
Two nights later Anthony stood in the card room of the Duke of Essex’s townhouse feeling quite more like himself. The brandy was the best in the country and the play was at a level worthy of White’s own room. His party had yet to arrive, but he knew they would not be early.
Anthony had been thrown like a toy boat at sea the night at the theater. One moment with his arms wrapped around Jemma, the next standing in the outer room wondering what happened. But when Jemma emerged, all signs of her distress were gone. She smiled her friendly, benign smile and was looking forward to the second half of the play, which proceeded on schedule with Jemma’s leg tucked tightly next to his thigh.
He and his wife would suit well physically. He wasn’t surprised, Jemma was a beautiful woman without all the primping she seemed to be leaning toward. Luckily, he also realized that after a few moments with her in his arms in the alcove, his desire lessened and his mood the next day improved exponentially. Which led him to the decision that put him in such an exceptional mood now. If he took every opportunity to steal away with Jemma at their various entertainments, he could keep his baser desires in control and therefore not destroy his chances of having a quiet marriage.
“You are almost genial this evening. What are you up to?” Max asked, walking up to Anthony, heralding the arrival of said wife.
“I should be insulted, but even you will not drag my mood low tonight, my friend.” He tipped his head and raised his glass to his closest of companions. “Am I not allowed to be content with things such as they are?”
“No, because I am certain whatever is in your mind is not practical,” Max said, raising one eyebrow.
Anthony finished his drink, following Max to the receiving room where the women waited. Jemma wore a deep blue confection with a white overdress that started under her breast, parting at the center, making her look long and elegant. Her hair was piled atop her head, curls hanging to frame her face. Tonight, however, what drew his eye was one pearl set on a thin ribbon settled in the depression at the base of her neck. He wondered what noise she might make if he licked the spot behind the little pearl. He already knew where he would whisk her off to tonight. He was well aware of the duke’s townhouse and knew where all the best spots were.
He walked up to Jemma, making sure he was too close to be proper, but not over the step. “Good evening, my dear. I trust you had a pleasant day?”
