Page 27 of Impassioned
Before what exactly? What had happened to prompt all this? He wanted to ask. He needed to ask. But as she’d so painfully pointed out, they did not discuss such personal things. They discussed almost nothing. To question her about this would open up a closeness—an intimacy—that would change the dynamics of their relationship forever.
“Con, you look as if you either want to run from the room or toss up your accounts in the corner.”
Constantine barely heard him. He couldn’t think past his wife at the moment. She was changing, and he had nothing to do with it. Anger and disappointment—in himself, if he were honest, and it was probably time he was—coursed through him.
“Do you think she’s having an affair?” he whispered, the words dark and hollow sounding to his ears.
“You can’t be serious,” Lucien hissed, his voice a low burn near Constantine’s ear.
“How else can you explain her newfound confidence, her—” He clapped his teeth and lips together. “Never mind.”
“She would never,” Lucien said with a certainty that drew Constantine’s full attention.
“How would you know?”
Lucien stared at him, clearly aghast. “You mean to tell me that wouldn’t shock you to your very bones?”
“Everything she does right now shocks me.” Constantine turned his gaze toward her once more, but she’d moved on. Scanning the room, he found the vibrant blue of her gown. She was talking to yet more gentlemen, one of whom he knew quite well and who was smiling and laughing with her as if they were old friends. Constantine didn’t think they’d ever met.
And what did that say—that someone with whom he was well acquainted didn’t know his wife? Constantine’s abject failure as a husband was becoming distinctly and bitterly clear.
He’d tried to be a good husband. In doing his duty, he’d given her space and consideration, moving things along in the bedroom as quickly as possible, given her trepidation. He’d ensured she had a beautiful estate, which she could manage on her own without his father’s interference—the duke never visited Hampton Lodge and had “given” it to Constantine to use as his primary residence when he’d wed. Furthermore, Constantine hadn’t denied any of her requests for refurbishment or for the design of the garden. Indeed, he’d gone out of his way to support her. What more should he have done?
The answer seemed suddenly and painfully obvious. He needed to get to know this woman who was his wife. Only he didn’t know how. “The wall between us is too great,” he said, sounding rather like a frog. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.
“Don’t let it be. Isn’t it worth trying to breach it? It’s not as if you can find another wife.” He took a breath. “I suppose you could, but why, when it’s very possible things could work out well between you and Sabrina.”
Hearing his brother use her Christian name provoked something within Constantine. It wasn’t jealousy, like he was feeling toward the men who were flirting with his wife, but it was similar. He felt the need to lay claim to her but didn’t know how. And did she even want him to, or was all of this just to have a child?
“Who is this person you have in mind?” Constantine asked without looking at his brother.
“Someone who used to be a courtesan but isn’t any longer.”
Constantine jerked his head toward Lucien. “Why would she agree to this?”
“Because she enjoys sex. Plus, she has a very kind heart and is happy to help someone in need. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“No.” But he was thinking about it. The longer he watched his wife, the more he realized he wasn’t certain how to proceed. Sheseemeddifferent and had invited his attention, but he couldn’t shake the memory of the nervous bride who hadn’t wanted to marry him and who couldn’t wait for him to complete his “duty” and leave the bedchamber.
“Well, when you do, I am here to help you. Now stop glowering toward your wife and try to have fun. I’m going down to the card room. I’d invite you to join me, but I know you won’t.”
“Correct.” Constantine tried to relax his attention toward the countess. She and Mrs. Renshaw had moved on, their heads bent together in what seemed to be close friendship. When had that happened? Hell, he really didn’t know his wife at all.
Alone now that Lucien had gone, Constantine moved out of the corner. Only he didn’t know where to go. He ought to rejoin his wife, but after their encounter, he didn’t think she wanted to see him. He needed to work on that. They should try to make an entirely fresh start, as if he were courting her again.
Had he ever courted her? Their union had been inevitable.
However, their happiness, or at least their satisfaction, was not. This must be a different kind of courtship, starting with seduction.
And given the state of their marriage, his lack of skill in seduction, and the uncertainty of his wife’s interest in being seduced, how the hell did he start withthat?
Sabrina had wondered if Aldington would invite her to ride home with him from the rout, but he’d left at an early hour. After his departure, she and Evie had discussed his behavior, how he’d seemed irritated and generally discomfited by her appearance. Grinning, Evie had suggested he might be jealous. That seemed wholly impossible, but then Evie had pointed out that Sabrina had earned the attention of many people at the rout, including a good number of men, both married and unmarried.
Even now, as Sabrina pulled her favorite night rail over her head, she blushed. She had somewhat been the center of attention that evening, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
That alone was a problem, for if she meant to become her sister-in-law’s sponsor, she would need to feel comfortable with being seen and heard. The prospect filled her with a thrilling dread.
Charity put away the last of Sabrina’s clothing. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
