Disappointment flared but was soon replaced with an immense sense of satisfaction. He wanted her. By some miraculous feat, she had seduced her husband. When she did decide to let him into her bed, she would have to make the moment memorable.
But she couldn’t worry about that now.
Tomorrow, she would use what she had learnt from Isabella to entice him further. Perhaps she might give a little of herself if it meant discovering more about him. Of course, she couldn’t leave him frustrated for too long. No doubt Lucinda Pearce was lurking in the background waiting for an opportune moment to pounce.
Chapter 10
The slivers of light streaming through the gap in the curtains should have given Matthew a renewed sense of optimism for a brighter day. But a throbbing erection had robbed him of a pleasant night’s sleep.
Waking to a solid cock was not a new experience. It was his body’s way of reminding him everything was working as it ought. Usually, it proved to be a nuisance. What was the point when he had no one t
o share it with? Though if relief was what he wanted, he could always beat the devil, as they say.
His thoughts drifted to the woman who occupied the next bedchamber, to the image of him rattling the blasted dressing room door to gain entrance. Why the hell had he given her the damn key? From the moment he’d taken her in his arms and waltzed about the floor, he’d been desperate to bury himself inside her. Surely she knew. Perhaps her inexperience with men meant she’d failed to read the signs.
Bloody hell!
While he expected to receive pleasure from the marriage bed, he’d not expected to lust after his wife. Of course, it was only to sate a physical need. The few nights where he’d fought the urge to take her without being encumbered by clothing, helped to rid him of that slight sense of desperation — or so he’d thought.
A light rap on the door brought his valet, Lawson. With his robust frame and expressionless face, the man would be better suited in the role of executioner. Lawson doubled as a deterrent at parties, patrolled the house glaring at guests with his cold black eyes.
Matthew stretched his arms above his head. “What time is it?”
Lawson poured the water from the pitcher into the bowl on the washstand. “It’s a little after ten, sir. Will you want to eat in your room? I can have a tray brought up.”
Ten. Excellent. The lady of the house followed a strict routine in the mornings.
“There’s no need. I shall join Mrs Chandler in the dining room.” As soon as the blood filling his nether regions decided it was better served elsewhere.
Besides, he wanted the key to the dressing room and would broach the subject whilst casually sipping coffee and nibbling on toast and jam.
Lawson cleared his throat. “Mrs Chandler rose early this morning and has gone out.”
“Out?” Was the woman intent on ruining all of his plans? “Where the hell has she gone at this hour?” He’d not meant to take his frustration out on his valet.
“From what I understand, Mrs Chandler likes to ride in the park.”
Matthew sat bolt upright. “At ten o’clock in the morning?”
The rogues who attended his gatherings were just as likely to accost her outdoors during the day. After witnessing her wrapped seductively in her red velvet dress, there were bound to be men eager to offer a proposition. He dragged his hand down his face and groaned. Devil take him. When he’d offered his hand, he’d not expected to feel an overwhelming urge to protect her.
The lady was proving to be far too distracting.
“I believe Mrs Chandler likes to feel the wind in her hair and thought she would have more privacy in the park if she left at nine. Hopkins asked me to inform you that she has taken the white mare. As it has been some time since she’s ridden, Billings suggested it was the wisest choice.”
The hair at his nape prickled to attention. “Please tell me she has not gone out alone.” Nothing surprised him when it came to Priscilla, but he hoped his staff had more sense. “Did no one think to inform me sooner?”
Lawson frowned. “Usually after a night spent entertaining you insist no one disturbs you before ten.”
“Yes, but that was before my wife wreaked havoc with my routine.”
Why could she not spend her days practising the pianoforte, working on her embroidery frame, visiting other ladies eager to talk about their mundane tasks? Why was it that, despite rousing anger, her spontaneous impulses excited him?
“Billings sent Pike to accompany her,” Lawson said, “though he’s the only groom I’ve ever seen who looks cumbersome on a horse. As such he’s sure to attract a few gapes and stares.”
“That’s because his arms are larger than a typical man’s thighs.” The news that Pike rode with Priscilla eased Matthew’s fears somewhat. “Well, I suppose there’s one consolation. He hits harder than anyone I’ve ever fought at Jackson’s.”
“A man like that has his uses. I was glad of his assistance during the fight in the mews last month,” Lawson replied as he laid out the shaving implements with such care and attention one would think they were priceless jewels. “As Mrs Chandler is out, do you still wish to take your meal downstairs?”