******
Ever since the incident with the spoon Eleanor had been on her best behavior. Who knew that a small wooden implement could hurt so much? And, more humiliatingly, bring her such incredible ecstasy when her husband made love to her afterwards? The morning after the impromptu discipline and subsequent soreness of her bottom in the days following convinced her that prodding Edwin to constantly discipline her was perhaps not the most effective route to discerning his feelings towards her. Once she’d had time to think it over she had also realized that if he did have any burgeoning feelings, acting a complete shrew could quite quickly kill them.
It hadn’t helped that he’d obviously been quite taken with the sore, slightly bruised state of her chastised cheeks. They’d made love in a variety of places for the next few days afterwards, during all hours of the day, and it didn’t take more than a slight squeeze of her bottom and her subsequent whimper to have Edwin’s passion flare again. Hers too, for that matter. At least she was well assured that he wanted her in that way, whatever deeper feelings he may or may not have for her.
“Nell? Are you ready?” Edwin entered her dressing room as if he had every right to be there. She supposed he did.
Raising her eyes from the mirror she was sitting in front of as Poppy worked on her hair, she could feel her heart squeezing as she took in his handsome personage. He was formally dressed as they would be attending the opera this evening, the snowy cravat as his throat tied in a complex knot and setting off his dark good looks splendidly. With the silvery gray of his waistcoat and the simple black and white of his shirt, slacks and jacket, he looked even more like a fallen angel in all those crisp colors. Many men preferred more decorative dress, but not Edwin. He had no need of extra decoration, they would only distract from his good looks rather than add to them, although she’d become aware that his valet was as responsible (perhaps more) for Edwin’s style as her husband himself was.
“Nearly,” she said, trying to cover her roiling emotions with a smile, glancing away from his penetrating eyes to look up Poppy.
“There,” said her maid smugly, pushing one last pin into the elaborate coiffure. Smiling, she turned and bobbed a curtsy to Edwin. “She’s all yours, my Lord.”
Truer words were never spoken, Eleanor thought a little dismally. She was all his, but was he all hers?
“You look delectable,” Edwin said, his eyes dark and hot, drinking in the sight of her and she could feel the reaction throughout her body. The way he looked at her made her nipples bud, her lower lips plump and dampen, and her pulse quicken. “But you are unfinished.”
“Unfinished?” Her voice wavered as she looked at herself in the mirror, Edwin’s gloved fingers stroking over her bare shoulders and down to her collarbones. Immediately her breasts began to ache as she wished he would move his hands lower and dip them into the low décolletage of her dress. She was becoming quite wanton now that she was a wife, her experiences with her husband providing much more explicit material for her imagination.
“Quite,” he whispered into her ear, and she turned her head to catch his lips but he was already moving away.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stream of glittering blue.
As Eleanor gasped at the sight of the sapphires he’d commissioned, picking out the stones himself to exactly match her eyes, Edwin could only grin with pride. She had turned in her chair, cooing over the beautiful gems, stroking their glittering faces with her fingers as if she couldn’t quite believe they were real. They would look very well indeed with her navy gown and its silvery edging.
Wrapping the necklace around her slender throat, Edwin clasped it at the back. The stones were cold and heavy against her skin although they started to warm immediately.
“They match the color of your eyes perfectly,” he murmured as she put up a hand to her throat, staring in wonderment at her reflection. “I thought they would. Although they are no match for the brightness and beauty of your eyes.”
“They’re lovely… Oh Edwin, thank you!”
His wife’s eyes were shining extremely brightly, perhaps with tears, but she didn’t shed any as she twisted around in her seat and impetuously grabbed at his jacket, pulling him down for a kiss. That was his Eleanor, impulsive to her core. The eagerness of her mouth tugged at him and for a moment he seriously considered grabbing his wife and tossing her on the bed…
But the whole point of this evening was to reward her for her good behavior the past few days. And also to indulge in a pastime which they both enjoyed, as well as attend to their social duties. While Society could be fairly understanding about newlyweds indulging themselves, at some point they were expected to reemerge on a regular basis.
With an effort he pulled himself away, although he kept his hands on Nell, pulling her from her seat at the same time so that she was standing beside him.
“Come, my dear,” he said, pulling her arm through the crook of his. “You know I abhor being fashionably late to the opera.” While he didn’t mind it at all with balls, he cared more about watching the stage than watching the audience when they went to the theater. Smiling up at him with complete adoration, Eleanor fairly floated alongside him out of the house.
******
Throughout the first act, Eleanor stroked her necklace over and over again. They were sharing the Clarendon box with Wesley and the Dowager Countess of Lilienfield, a lovely widow in her thirties who had been married to a much older gentleman. She had never remarried, preferring to raise her son, the current Earl, under the guardianship of her brother as laid out by her late husband’s will. It gave her quite a bit of freedom, including that of taking lovers amongst the ton’s rakes, of which Wesley was most assuredly now a part of.
They sat in front of her and Edwin, flirting and touching each other, exchanging meaningful glances. It was a subtle dance that Eleanor now recognized, knowing just how potent those small touches could be. Next to her Edwin was sitting close enough that the hairs on her arms were standing up, but he wasn’t touching her. Just sitting so close as to distract her. She wondered why they weren’t exchanging the same touches and smoldering looks as the unmarried couple sitting in front of them. Was it because he was truly engrossed in the opera? Or was it an indication of his true feelings for her?
When she’d originally imagined a marriage, she’d thought about the jewels and presents her future husband would shower her with.
Now these jewels felt cold around her neck, just like when he’d first put them on her. Cold and not nearly as indicative as she would have liked. Had she truly thought that such gifts would make her feel more loved? Instead she felt as if Edwin had spent money rather than time and affection on her, as if he'd gone the easier route of buying a token rather than giving her true emotion. Still, the sapphires were the exact color of her eyes and he'd made special note of that.
Interpreting every little gesture he made was exhaustin
g and yet she couldn't seem to stop herself. She was so confused. At one point in her life she would have thought that a trip to the opera accompanied by a fabulous necklace would show proof of a man's feelings. Now that she had those things she felt as though she was floundering more than ever. Money spent did not equate to love.
"Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful," Edwin murmured into her ear.
Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even felt him shifting closer to her. Immediately she dropped her hand onto her lap.
"I'm sorry," she said under her breath. To all appearances, she immediately turned her attention to the action on the stage.