Her lips, rosy from his kisses, formed a round O, hovering just over his face as she crouched over him in her concern. It was as he had told her — he could not keep himself away from her. When he returned from White’s, he had meant to go to his bedchamber and fall into a quick, dreamless sleep. A sleep without thoughts of a golden haired woman, with a slightly crooked nose and a sly mouth that broke into smile towards him when he did something as simple as pour tea for her in the morning. She haunted his dreams, night and day, and then he had seen her there, sitting in the window seat. The moonlight streaming in through the window highlighted her face, the plait of her hair, and the silhouette of her legs through the thin white material of her nightgown peeking out from beneath her wrapper.

He had been sitting in the overstuffed leather chair in the far corner when he had seen her enter, find the paper, and begin to write. He had meant to leave the library before she noticed him, to return to his bedchamber and leave her to whatever it was that had so captured her attention. Instead, he had made his way over to her, engaging her in a serious conversation that he should not be having with a woman who was determined to keep their relationship simply cordial.

But oh, how good she had felt under his hands, how soft, how pliant, and how willing to receive his attentions. He had been so taken aback when she pushed him away that he had completely lost his balance and gone tumbling to the floor. The slight bump on his head was worth it, however, to see her overly concerned face so close to his once more.

When she said nothing to his admission of how she drew him to her, he continued to sit up until he was back in a respectable position.

“I am fine, Olivia, truly,” he said. “You needn’t concern yourself. I offer you my apologies, however. You have been clear in how you feel about our marriage, and I went beyond what you wanted or needed from me.”

“That is not —”

“Truly, it is nothing to speak about any longer,” he said, rising to his feet and reaching out a hand to help her stand as well. He stood awkwardly for a moment before, knowing not what else to say, he muttered, “Well, goodnight then.”

He nodded his head, spun on his heel, and left her standing there gaping after him as he padded over the Oriental rug, out the door, and up the stairs to his chambers.

* * *

Alastair remained on his best behavior with Olivia over the next few days. He was polite and charming, but maintained the facade that kept her from realizing the longing he had for her. He wanted to know her body, to make her his wife in more than word, but she had been adamant as to what she expected of their union.

Yes, he had more responsibility now than he had been looking for, but despite her words, he found he could not shake the feeling of guilt that followed him from club to club. If he stayed home, however, he would simply be pining for the woman that did not want him. He was caught between two worlds — the bachelor he had been and the married man he was now supposed to be.

Tonight he was to meet Merryweather and a few of his friends, including Lord Penn and Lord Taylor, at a gentlemen’s club. It was not as fine as White’s nor as seedy as some of the hells, but rather a club for the serious gamblers. His father had been a fan of it, and he was hoping to try to win back some of his debt.

He left the house without saying goodbye to Olivia, as had been his custom since they had married. She was typically ensconced in her rooms or bent over a book in the library and she no longer asked when or where he was going, so he supposed it did not matter to her whether he stayed in or went out.

The hour was later than he had planned to arrive when he entered the club. The tables were full, and the gambling was well underway. He searched the room and did not yet see his friends, so decided to gamble himself until such time they arrived. His gaze happened upon an open space. Whist. A slight smile danced around his lips. Was this not his wife’s game rather than his own?

Fine then, he thought with a laugh, he would see if perhaps he had learned anything from her the night they had renewed their acquaintance. How long ago it seemed, and yet how greatly that simple meeting had changed his entire future.

He sat without taking a proper look at the rest of the players, instead focused on the drink in front of him. Each man selected a card to determine first play and pairings, and he began to organize his hand as it was dealt to him.

He surveyed the cards, pursed his lips, and played his chosen card. The second man followed suit. Alastair was continuing to study his own cards when his eyes flicked up to watch the third man make his play.

The hand that reached out was small for a man, the fingers delicate and the nails neatly trimmed. Alastair looked up to take a closer look at the gambler, who was clad in a dark black jacket over a white linen shirt, his cravat neatly tied and a dark hat situated low over his forehead, hiding his face. Then the man looked up to throw his card … and Alastair froze. They locked eyes, both in complete shock.

“Alastair! Whatever are you doing here?”

“Oliv--”

“Oliver, yes, I’m pleased you remember me! It has been quite some time has it not?” his wife said, quickly recovering her wits as she winked at him — winked at him! — and spoke in a lower tone than her usual alto. He stared back, incredulous. What in the hell was she doing at a gentlemen's club? “I was not aware you would be here this evening, else I …” she noticed the other players turn to look at her. “I would have looked for you sooner,” she finished lamely.

“Why yes,” he said slowly, unsure of how to react to her being here. He certainly could not make a scene in the middle of the club, but could he allow his wife to remain? “It would have been interesting indeed to know you would be in attendance tonight. Do you often frequent such establishments?”

“I do like to try my hand at whist when I am able,” she responded, “though it has been some time since I have had the opportunity.”

The little minx. How long had she been planning an outing such as this? He should have known she was being far too agreeable, too accepting of her new role as mistress of his home. His wife was not a woman who would be content with the domestic duties of most women of her station, that he knew. He almost felt a sense of relief. He had been unsure as to what she had been scheming that had been keeping her attentions occupied. If this was what it had been, well, perhaps it was not so bad.

What he didn’t like was the look of her breasts flattened against her chest, presumably by linen or some other sort of material. The jacket was wide in the front, providing her room to move and camouflaging her narrow waist and curves. He saw the need for the subterfuge — this was not a place for women, save for the serving girls. He hoped she at least had the sense to have a footman accompany her to this particular establishment, that she had not come alone. Why was she here, at this club, when there were other places to gamble, such as homes of the ton?

The man to Olivia’s left turned to whisper something in her ear, and she responded with, “Thank you, Billy, I know,” and Alastair felt anger begin to simmer in his belly at the familiarity the man took with her. Who was he, that he knew her well enough to be on a first-name basis? He suddenly realized that he had seen the man before — that night at Lady Atwood’s. He had accompanied Olivia home. What did he mean to his wife? He was well-dressed, clearly a man of some means and Olivia certainly seemed to know him well enough to not only accompany him to this club, but give him secrets she had not deemed important enough to share with her husband.

Alastair had been charmed by her play-acting, but now his amusement shifted to first annoyance, and then a twinge in his gut. Was this why she wanted nothing to do with him other than their formal marriage arrangement? Did she want another man — love another man? If she could play this game, so could he.

A serving girl came by, offering a tray of drinks to the gamblers, though from the look she gave him, she would provide him something more, were he interested. He wasn’t, but Olivia was not aware of that. He stared back at the woman a moment too long, gifting her with one of his dimpled smiles, before turning back to the table. Olivia was watching. Good. She narrowed her eyes at him, then returned her concentration to the game at hand.

It was fortunate they were partners, for Alastair had completely lost his attention on the cards played, such was he distracted by the ridiculous games he was playing with his wife. However, he could not help himself. He was a man lost and utterly at her mercy.

Somehow they managed to come out ahead by the time the game was over, and Olivia stood up, bid the men thanks, and turned away. Alastair rose to catch her, but her sleek form darted in and out of the crowd, and by the time he found her again, she was already seated at another table, the first hand being dealt. Frustrated, Alastair turned, only to run headlong into a man he well recognized, having spent an entire game of whist staring him down. Olivia’s “Billy.”

“Your Grace,” the man said with a slight bow, “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. William Tell.”

“William Tell,” he responded, with an arch of his eyebrow. “Please tell me, sir, how are you acquainted with my wife?”

“Ah, the lovely Olivia?” the cad responded with a glint in his eye. “We are childhood friends. We were raised in neighboring estates. My father is the Viscount of Shandol and I’ve only recently returned to town. Olivia needed a partner in her latest adventure and talked me into it.”

“Indeed.”

It was not a question. Alastair’s ire had been raised, and he was not pleased by this turn of events. Why had his wife never mentioned the man? Had there been something between them, perhaps even the promise of a future that was broken by his scandal with her? It would explain much — especially Olivia’s desire for a marriage as a simple arrangement in name alone.

He had much to discuss with his wife. And he would do so — tonight.