Page 28 of Dangerous

Perhaps her new husband was the same. He seemed to have no wish to talk to her. She studied him through the gloom. His head was tipped back against the luxurious gray leather, his eyes closed, his sooty lashes fanned against his pale skin. Was he taking a nap? She seized the opportunity to look at him unobserved, beginning with the fine bones of his face. His lips were fuller at rest, made for kissing rather than sneering. Her breathing roughened as she recalled her single contact with them. His mouth had been so sweet, so firm, so . . .

She stopped and forced her eyes to resume their inspection. Who knew when she’d next get such a chance to stare at him?

His chest rose and fell gently and her body ached to explore the tantalizing expanse of his broad, sleek shoulders. She’d never touched a man in prime condition and she could not wait to slide her fingers beneath his coat and waistcoat and pull up his shirt to explore his skin.

Her eyelids became heavy, forcing her gaze down to the tantalizing gap between the bottom of his coat and the top of his snug breeches, the place where only a thin line of waistcoat was visible. That small slice of fabric taunted her—designed to draw a woman’s eye to the front of a man’s hips, forcing her to imagine what was above ... and below.

She stared at the intriguing spot, her eyes drawn downward to the fall of his breeches. His muscular thighs were slightly spread, their chiseled hardness a sharp contrast to the soft leather seat that cushioned them. Something about the sight reminded her of the delicious chocolates she’d received from one of her suitors. She swallowed hard as she considered the similarities between the marquess’s delectable body and a velvet-lined box of delicacies.

A slight cough caused her head to jerk up. Mia swallowed; her husband was looking at her from beneath hooded eyes. How long had he been watching?

“We are at Exley House.”

The wheels of the carriage drew to a halt, an ironic counterpoint to Mia’s racing pulse.

The door opened and the marquess kicked down the steps and exited. Once outside, he turned and said something to the two grooms, who’d leapt from the box. They moved to hold back the noisy horde who’d gathered around the carriage. It seemed she would have a collection of nosy onlookers at her new home, as well. Exley handed her down and Mia glanced toward the surging throng, many of whom had begun to yell bawdy suggestions.

The crowd here was louder and more raucous than the one that had held sway outside Carlisle House the first weeks after she’d returned. It would be impossible for her to execute any of her escape plans until she was in the country.

“Do you think they are dangerous, my lord?”

His cold gaze flickered over the mob, which was mostly comprised of men but also held a fair number of females—mainly women whose dress proclaimed their profession. Most of those gathered exhibited the exaggerated motions and overly loud voices of drunks.

“No, but you should never step out of the house alone, nor even just with your maid.” His lips twisted. “Always take your footman with you.” He took her arm and led her up the steps to the imposing stone structure that was her new home.

Two rows of servants stood lined up in the large marble entry hall. The marquess approached the imposing older man at the head of the line and began the introductions.

“This is Hill, the man responsible for the smooth operation of the house.”

“My lady.” The older man bowed.

Mia smiled and nodded at him before moving to the forty odd servants who stood behind him, from Hill all the way down to the lowliest boot boy.

When she finished meeting the last of her new staff, Exley nodded to his dour housekeeper. “Mrs. Jenkins will show you to your chambers. There are a few matters that require my attention. I shall see you at dinner.” He gave her a perfunctory bow and Mia watched him ascend the curving set of marble stairs that swept up the left side of the hall. He disappeared and she turned, trying not to feel alone as she stood among the crowd of strangers in her new home.

“If you would follow me, Lady Exley,” Mrs. Jenkins asked, gesturing toward the other side of the hall, to the staircase that mirrored the one her husband had just taken.

Mia’s chambers were on the third floor at the end of the hall.

The housekeeper opened one of the double doors, stood aside, and waited until Mia had entered.

The first things Mia saw were an enormous four-poster bed and her maid’s pinched face. The haughty Frenchwoman was, for once, a welcome sight and Mia gave her an overly bright smile.

“Ah, LaValle. You are settling in, I see. Please have a bath sent up.”

“Yes, my lady,” LaValle murmured, her hard brown eyes dismissing the housekeeper as if she did not exist.

The older woman’s flushed cheeks told Mia this was not the first time she’d endured the French dresser’s scorn.

“Please have tea sent up as soon as my bath is prepared.”

The older woman frowned, as if taking tea in one’s bath was not done, but nodded and said, “Yes, my lady.”

“That is all, Mrs. Jenkins.”

The housekeeper left and Mia prowled through her new chambers. They were even more spacious than those she’d occupied at Carlisle House.

Mia examined the dressing room first. LaValle had already hung most of her clothing and her shoes and other finery had been put away, making the room look as though it had been occupied for years. She stopped in front of a closed door: the door to her husband’s chambers. She pressed her ear against the smoothly polished wood but could hear nothing. She twisted the handle. It was not locked. Mia released the knob and turned away. He’d said he had business. What manner of business would intrude on his wedding day? She shrugged. What did it matter? They were engaged in a marriage of name only, not cooing lovebirds. The fact that he’d already left her alone boded well for the future.