He was glad when they finally swept through the great iron gates of Rosemont and bowled up the long, curving drive before halting before a splendid Palla-dian manor. Just as Damon remembered, the interior was rich and luxuriously appointed, as befitted a wealthy noblewoman with superior taste.
Lady Beldon took charge as soon as they entered, directing her large staff to carry the luggage upstairs before suggesting to the bridal couple that they retire to their chambers to wash off their travel dust and change into evening attire so they could dine formally at seven o'clock.
Then she spoke directly to Damon. “I have allotted you adjoining bedchambers for the sake of appearances, my lord, even though it goes sorely against the grain. But I will not have it said that there is anything havey-cavey about your marriage.”
Two years ago, his rooms had been in an entirely different wing from Eleanor, so this would be a significant improvement, Damon reflected. Thus, he didn't contest the accommodations.
Neither did Eleanor. Instead, she merely smiled and accompanied him upstairs, preceded by Rosemont's majordomo. She stopped at a door halfway down the corridor, while Damon was shown to the next suite of rooms. His bedchamber had a magnificent view of the park, but he was more interested in access to his wife's rooms.
When he opened the adjacent door, he found Elle in a similar bedchamber, taking off her bonnet.
The first thing she did-surprisingly-was to apologize. “I am very sorry my aunt is being so difficult, Damon. I imagine she merely needs a period to adjust to our marriage.”
“I am willing to let her adjust,” he replied rather dryly, “although I don't fancy having to battle her the entire time we are here.”
Eleanor returned a coquettish smile. “It might take longer than a fortnight for her to come around. She views you with considerable disfavor, you know. She is even angrier with you for precipitating this debacle than for our broken betrothal two years ago. Nor has she forgotten your libertine ways then-how you flaunted your mistress in public. Aunt Beatrix is determined to protect me from falling for your wicked charms again.”
“I gather that is why she assigned us separate bedchambers?”
“That, and because she thinks we will have a marriage in name only.”
Damon regarded her narrowly. “You are not of the same mind, I trust.”
“Why, yes.” When he frowned, Eleanor's eyes widened innocently. “You were the one who wanted a mere marriage of convenience, Damon. Surely you don't expect that to include carnal relations like a real married couple.”
“Of course I expect us to share a marital bed.”
“Well, we shall just have to see…”
There was a spark of laughter in her eyes that belied her guileless look.
Damon suspected that Eleanor was flirting with him-and he was convinced of it when she crossed to him and placed an imploring hand on his arm. “My maid is not yet here. Will you be so kind as to unfasten the hooks of my gown?”
Without waiting, she gave him her back, and when he had obliged, she thanked him sweetly and turned to face him again.
Gazing up at him, Eleanor started to lower her bodice, then stopped just as the edge of her corset came into view. “Modesty prevents me from undressing in front of you.”
Her absurd statement sent his eyebrow shooting up. But the swells of creamy skin already exposed to his avid gaze made Damon recall the lushness of her bare breasts and the potent sensuality of her body when they'd made love yesterday.
Then Eleanor wet her lips with her tongue, and he realized that she was deliberately trying to arouse him. She was definitely succeeding, Damon acknowledged, feeling his loins harden.
Her mouth looked soft and ripe, her skin infinitely touchable. He stepped closer, the need to kiss her as strong as any desire he'd ever felt. And from the telltale pulse flickering at the base of her throat, he knew Eleanor was fighting her own desire for him. Her blue eyes were luminous with heat-
It gave Damon little consolation when she shook her head with a regretful smile. “You had best change your attire, my lord husband. We don't wish to keep my aunt waiting. She becomes exceedingly crotchety when her will is crossed.”
When he made no reply, Eleanor pushed gently against his chest, guiding him backward toward their connecting door.
When he had crossed the threshold to his own chamber, her smile turned almost sad. “I think it best to lock this door so we will not be tempted to transgress.”
Then stepping back, Eleanor shut the door firmly between them.
Damon heard the bolt settling in place and stared at the panel, torn between exasperation and disbelief. He was married to Elle now, but she intended to deny him her bed. Moreover, she'd made it clear that he would have to battle her resistance as well as contend with her overprotective aunt.
Registering the painful tightness in his pantaloons, Damon grimaced. For a fleeting moment, he had actually started to anticipate this house party with pleasure, yet now it looked as if all he could expect was a fortnight of frustrated desire.
Thinking of the torment in store for him, he let out a long breath.
It would, he suspected, be a very long fortnight indeed.
You would be wise to appear elusive upon occasion. If you are always easily attainable, the challenge will fade for him and he may turn to more exciting quarry. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
Finding a private moment with his wife proved as difficult as Damon expected. Lady Beldon kept Elea nor by her side that entire evening and again at breakfast the next morning. Afterward, Elle professed herself too busy to go riding with him, since she would be engaged in reading the manuscript of a novel a friend had written.
Damon enjoyed a solitary ride and sequestered himself in the Rosemont library. Then shortly after one o'clock, the first houseguests began arriving.
He'd known he would dislike having Prince Laz-zara in close proximity to his new bride, but he hadn't counted on having his jealousy aroused from another quarter: Rayne Kenyon, the new Earl of Haviland, who'd escorted his grandmother the dowager countess down from London.
Or more precisely, Damon was not happy that Eleanor seemed to be on such easy terms with Lord Haviland and even appeared to flirt with him. Damon overheard them jesting together when they all gathered in the drawing room at four o'clock for tea.
“A pity I was not swift enough to snare your hand in marriage before Wrexham did,” the earl told Eleanor with a smile. “My grandmother would have been enraptured had you chosen to wed me, since she thinks you the ideal young lady.”
Eleanor smiled back at him. “It is common knowledge that Lady Haviland is pressing you to marry.”
“A vast understatement,” Haviland said dryly. “She wants an heir to her family bloodlines before she goes to meet her Maker, which she insists will come any day now. But since you are no longer available, I will have to search elsewhere for a suitable bride.”
“I regret disappointing your grandmother, my lord. But my husband”-she sent Damon a playful glance, her eyes dancing-”proved impossible for me to resist. I have no doubt, however, that you will easily attract scores of eligible young ladies.”
“Eligible, yes… but unfortunately not as appealing as I would wish.”
“I suppose they are all too tame for you.”
“Or they consider me a trifle too uncivilized, since I'm not enamored of London society as a peer should be.”
Eleanor laughed lightly with Haviland, which sent a shaft of jealousy straight to Damon's loins.
There was far more substance to the earl, however, than the typical nobleman possessed, Damon knew from their university days together. He was reminded again that evening upon witnessing Haviland's keen powers of observation. The company had repaired to the drawing room after dinner to hear Eleanor perform on the pianoforte. While Prince Lazzara turned the sheet music for her, Haviland crossed to where Damon stood by the French doors taking in a breath of cool air as a respite from the stuffy, overheated formality of the gathering.
“I am curious, Wrexham, as to why two Bow Street Runners would be harboring on the premises.”
Damon eyed the earl with amused admiration. “So you noticed that, did you? What gave them away? Neither is wearing his usual red-breasted coat.”
“I have had some experience with Bow Street before. What is their purpose? They seem to be hovering near Lazzara whenever possible.”
“It is rather a long story.”
Haviland shrugged. “I have ample time to listen- and hearing the tale will be far more intriguing than making polite drawing room conversation.”