The Perfect Wife Read Free Page B

of bluffing.

    Nicholas eyed her hasty retreat and annoyance surged through him. Why on earth had the woman cut him like that? Had he done something to offend her? It had seemed as though she was enjoying their flirtation as much as he, at least initially.
    Of course; he should have realized it sooner. His suggestive manner had obviously scared her. According to his investigators she was a quiet and reserved woman who ventured into society no more than necessary. Her name had been linked with several men through the years, but no hint of scandal, no improper gossip accompanied the talk. As best he could tell, she had lived a spotless life since returning to London after her husband’s death.
    A slow smile spread across his face. She was not merely beautiful but well-bred, reserved, even a touch shy. He pushed aside a vague sense of disappointment. Somehow, he’d instinctively expected more from her.
    When his gaze first met hers, he swore he’d glimpsed a spark, a spirit that stole his breath. But apparently his first impression was misleading, his original reaction in error.
    He observed her elegant glide across the room, the graceful way she selected a glass. Nicholas narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. In spite of her relationships with men during her widowhood, and who could fault her for that, she was both discriminating and discreet; she might be exactly what he needed. A presentable partner to further his career. An attractive ornament to display on his arm. A perfect wife.
    His smile widened to a grin. Such a countess would not inconvenience him at all. She would have little effect on his well-ordered life, his private pursuit of pleasure. And he had not forgotten his immediate attraction to her. Although, a distant voice in the back of his mind pointed out, this was not the kind of woman he usually desired. She was pleasant and pretty, but in spite of his initial reaction she had no real zest, no promise of excitement, no sense of impending adventure. How could his initial instinct be so wrong?
    He ignored the tiny doubt. Ignored the questions and concerns that drifted through his mind. He turned to speak to newly arriving guests and firmly pushed away the nagging, nibbling voice.
    A perfect wife ... how frightfully dull.

    A scant twenty minutes later Sabrina was immersed in a pleasurable and undemanding game of whist with three elderly lords. A good player, steady and unemotional, she never wagered a lot, and never more than she could afford to lose. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she typically left the table with more than she’d started.
    The winnings were often fairly paltry. The real prizes were the bits and pieces of financial chatter, nuggets of investment strategy and tidbits of political gossip dropped by men who assumed she was uninterested or bored. Men who assumed her lovely, composed facade hid an equally vacant mind. Who assumed she neither cared for nor listened to their talk.
    During these games Sabrina likened herself to a fine hunting hound, whose rapt attention was only captured when a red fox was in sight. There were very few red foxes here tonight. The conversation meandered aimlessly, the words drifting past her unheeded. Sabrina kept enough of her mind on the cards to play respectably, but allowed her thoughts to wander to a tall, powerful figure with piercing black eyes.
    “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
    “Pardon me?” Sabrina’s attention jerked back to the table, and Lord Eldridge at her right.
    He cocked his bushy eyebrows in mild reproof. “I was commenting on the news of a proposed expedition to the Americas to search for Spanish treasure. Surely you’ve heard of it?”
    “Of course.” Sabrina vaguely remembered having read something about a hunt for sunken treasure in the West Indies, possibly a Spanish galleon wrecked centuries ago. It was not the kind of investment that would have caught her eye. Too speculative, too risky and far too expensive, without a