Page 77 of The Theory of Earls (The Beautiful Barringtons 1)

35

“There you are. Up to mischief, I expect.”

Margaret looked from her stack of chips to the sapphire of her husband’s eyes. Welles leaned against the card table, a glass dangling from one hand. His gaze dipped to the bodice of her dress which was rather modest in comparison to Lady Masterson’s.

“I’m teaching her faro,” Georgina said. “She’s quite good, Welles.”

Her husband leaned over and pressed a kiss to Margaret’s temple. “I expected she would be. Lady Welles is quite intelligent and very accomplished. She also takes instruction with enthusiasm.”

Margaret’s cheeks warmed. “It depends on the talent of the instructor, my lord.”

Welles gazed back at her, fire sparking in his eyes. He trailed a finger along her collarbone, chuckling softly.

If the onlookers at Elysium were surprised to see the infamous Lord Welles, consummate rake and libertine, doting over his bride, a woman most had dismissed earlier as too plain and unassuming to garner much attention, they didn’t show it. No one at Elysium dared ask why Welles didn’t stay out until dawn drinking as he used to, nor why he’d declined to take another mistress.

“I’ve won handily.” Margaret’s hand reached up to tug at the lapel of his coat. Indigo, of course, though her suggestions to wear another color resulted in only black and a brown so deep it wasnearlyblack. She supposed it didn’t matter. Dark colors, with little decoration, left his masculine beauty to shine like a jewel. There were times Margaret felt like a drab little mouse next to her stunning husband.

“Indeed, you have, Maggie.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I’ve got to speak to Leo, but then we should head home.”

“Welles, it’s early. You’ll spoil all her fun.” Georgina laughed.

“Oh, Maggie will have fun tonight, won’t you?”

“I expect I will, my lord.” She shot her husband a saucy look.

“She’s promised to play another duet with me.” A low, amused rumble came from Welles. “I quite enjoyed the last one.”

The previous ‘duet’ had resulted in Margaret on top of the Broadwood with Welles’s dark head between her legs. A maid had nearly walked in on them. She blushed furiously and looked away.

“Good Lord, Welles,” Georgina said. “What on earth are youdoingto Maggie? I wasn’t sure a person could turn such a shade of red.”

Her husband ignored the question, his heated eyes still fixed on Margaret. “I’m entrusting her to your care, Georgina.”

“Do you think that a good idea, my lord?” Margaret said. “There’s no telling how I will corrupt Lady Masterson.”

He laughed at her reply, a glorious bubbling sound that never failed to awaken butterflies in Margaret’s stomach. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before striding off, headed in the direction of the stairs, and up to Leo’s office. When Welles reached the steps, he turned and paused, his eyes lingering on her before he continued up the stairs.

“Dear God, he’s in love with you,” Georgina said under her breath. “You’ve ruined him.” Draining her wineglass, she motioned to a nearby servant for another. “I never thought I’d live to see such a thing.”

“He cares for me, but it isn’t love.” Since their reconciliation, Margaret had whispered her love for him many times, but he’d never said the words back. It bothered her, but she remained hopeful.

“Any idiot can see it. That pea-wit certainly does.” She nodded toward a stunning redhead who was looking at Margaret as if she were something distasteful. “Lady Isley.” Georgina waved in the woman’s direction with a false smile. “Bitch,” she said, smiling.

Lady Isley’s lip curled.

“I’ve no complaints,” Margaret said.

Georgina raised a brow. “I know you don’t believe me.” She rolled her shoulders and Margaret watched in horror as one of Georgina’s breasts appeared to break free. “I will admit you’ve some work to do in regard to his father, the duke, though Welles seems to have reconciled himself to marriage, at least.”

Welles still refused to discuss his father. When a letter arrived from Cherry Hill, whether from Amanda or one of his sisters, her husband’s mood would shift ever so slightly. Sometimes she would hear him in the study, in the middle of the night, playing the piano as he tried to make peace with himself.

“Reformed rakes do make the best husbands.” Georgina wiggled her brows.

“So I understand.” Yet another topic Margaret hadn’t broached with her husband. The vast majority of men took a mistress at some point in their marriage. She wasn’t sure he hadn’t done so. She looked down at her cards. Though she couldn’t imagine where he’d find the time. And his attentions toward her had only intensified.

“He’s terribly complicated. But if anyone can…mendhim, it will be you, Maggie.” Georgina lifted her glass. “I’ve known Welles a long time and this is the first I recall him actually being…happy.”

“I appreciate your faith.” Margaret thought she would be in need of it. Shortly after they had reconciled, Welles had produced a card with the address of an apothecary, instructing Margaret to visit the establishment and ask for items to prevent a child. At first, she thought he was joking.

---