When she arrived at Lady Eleanor's estate in Richmond, her husband was already waiting for her. He received her at the drive along with Lady Graham, looking so incredibly handsome in his elegant attire. His waistcoat was a beautiful emerald with understated gold embroidery, his breeches hugging his thighs. His hair had been brushed to perfection, but still, it curled beautifully at the nape of his neck and around his ears. He looked tired too, his eyes shadowed. Clearly, he had been working hard.

Her heart thudded and a blush climbed her face at the sight of him.

Ah, her poor heart sighed in pleasure, we are finally home.

As he turned to motion to the staff to start unloading her things, she took an unabashed look at his bottom. Wonderful, strong, and muscled. Perfect for sinking her fingers into.

Stop salivating.

Her husband greeted her with an elegant and polite bow, his manner composed, though there was unmistakable warmth in his gaze. The kiss he placed on her hand lasted only the appropriate amount of time and then he politely tucked her hand into his elbow and followed Lady Graham as she showed them to her room. He made polite conversation, inquiring about her travel and the weather.

A spark of irritation ignited in her gut.

He had not seen her in a month and he wished to talk about the weather?!

Not even an 'I missed you desperately wife.' Or a 'Let's find a shaded alcove and kiss passionately!'

And here she'd been moping and pining after him all these days?! Very well! She could be frosty too!

She hiked her chin at a haughty angle and forced herself to hold her body at an appropriate distance from his, even as her own demanded she press into him, inhale his beloved scent, feel his delicious heat through her clothes.....Or without clothes.

But then, she felt the irritation be doused by anxiety.

What if he did not miss me at all?

'I hope you will excuse us, My Lady,' she heard her husband inform Lady Eleanor. 'My wife is likely tired from her travel and would wish to rest. If I could trouble the staff for a bath?'

Once Lady Eleanor had disappeared around the corner, her husband, ever the consummate gentleman, held the door open and motioned for her to enter.

'And what if I wished to make conversation with Lady Eleanor, you high-handed-?!'

Her irritable query was cut off as she was pushed firmly against the door, her husband's hot mouth on hers, plundering and conquering with ease. He let out a groan of pleasure as she went pliant in his arms, kissing him back with a month's worth of fervor. His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts, caressing her back, and then palming her arse and molding her to him so that she felt every glorious inch of his arousal. His mouth traveled from her lips, to her cheeks, to her neck and then, as was his damned habit, he bit down on her skin.

Not so frosty after all.

'Missed you.' He said in between his desperate kisses. 'Like madness. Everyday.'

'Oh,' she whimpered as his deft hands hitched her skirts up and began to undo the ties on her garters.

'May I make love to you?' He asked, nay, begged, his ragged breath fanning her lips. 'Or are you too tired?'

'I smell of travel! And horses!' She protested weakly as he found the bands of her drawers and slid them off her legs. He ducked, placing kisses on her exposed thigh as her halfhearted attempts at refusal fled entirely.

'Don't care. Need you. Now.' He growled, turning her around so her front was pressed to the back of the door. He was making quick work of her traveling gown. 'Why wait for a bath when I intend to make a mess of you?'

She shivered at the carnal promise in his tone, her eyes sliding closed as she acquiesced to his greedy hands, arching her back as he cupped her breasts, his sinful fingers playing with her nipples. As her bottom pressed into his groin, he let out a pleased grunt.

'Tell me, Wife, shall I put my mouth on your pussy right here, with only the door for support? Or are your legs too tired to hold you up?'

'The bed, if you do not mind,' she replied archly. 'I have been traveling for almost half a day, dreaming of a warm bath, only to be mauled by you!'

'Mhmmm,' his chest rumbled with laughter as his hand cupped her between her thighs. He nipped her ear playfully, eliciting a yelp. 'You don't seem to mind all the mauling. And don't think I didn't see you ogling my arse on the drive.'

'It is a very lovely arse,' she explained defensively and only received a firm, but not hurtful, swat to her backside in response. She let out an outraged sound even as she felt her insides go molten at the audacious touch. 'What the devil was that for?!'

'That was for not telling me you missed me, too.'

'I did, you insufferable oaf! Everyday!' She snapped at him as he divested her of the last of her underclothing. Soon he had led her to the bed and her ability to cling to any pretense crumbled once he set his mouth upon her, both of them losing themselves to pleasure.

Afterward, when they were both sated and tired, they lay together in the warm bath, her eyes drifting closed as her husband rambled on about what he had been doing in London and she told him what she had been doing for the month they had been apart.

'I love how close I feel to you when we make love,' he mumbled sleepily against her hair, his hands drawing lazy shapes into the skin of her stomach.

'I love feeling close to you too.' She replied shyly, her own eyes closing in the comfort of him at her back. It was silly of her to feel so shy in the aftermath of their lovemaking, but somehow as brazen as she was during the act, she simply could not bring herself to meet his eyes

'You haven't said a word about your trip to Bath. Is all well?'

'Oh, Ben,' she said glumly. 'I have made a complete and utter muck of things. Ophelia and I are in a terrible row.'

'Why? What happened?'

'I fear I let my experiences with my father color the way I see Needham,' she closed her eyes as a wave of embarrassment assailed her. 'I became worried that he was mistreating her and I overstepped.'

He stiffened behind her. 'That was unkind of you, Wife. I cannot imagine such an insinuation was heard without offense.'

'I realize that!' She protested. 'What would you have me do? Ignore my gut feeling?'

'I know what you have been through with your father was harrowing, sweetheart,' his arms tightened around her protectively. 'But do not worry on Ophelia's account. You do not think I let just anyone marry my sister, do you? She is the most precious person to me, right alongside you. I did my due diligence where Needham is concerned. That man is mad for my sister.'

She let his words mollify her, feeling the ugly pit that she'd carried in her stomach dissolve. Yes, of course, everything was fine with Ophelia.

'I-I...' Her voice became scrambled. 'I am one of your most precious people?'

He tapped on her chin, making her head turn to her side so he could kiss the bridge of her nose.

'Can you doubt it? You are my wife. My family.' He said solemnly. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and continued, 'I wanted to ask you something.'

'Yes?' She replied, a touch breathless because of the sheer intensity in his eyes.

'I was wondering, once you come back from Boston, if you would like to stay with me. I mean permanently.'

'In London?'

'Not necessarily, aside from the months that parliament is in session, we can live anywhere you like. We could spend most of the year in Cornwall, take trips to the other estates every now and then?'

'So that you may have someone to contend with your voracious sexual appetite?' She asked with a raised eyebrow. He let out a sharp laugh.

'Seeing as how you are the one responsible for my appetite, you ought to be the one to take care of it, no?'

She remained silent for a moment, contemplating.

Title hunter.

Shameful.

Graceless.

'Will you truly want me with you in London?' And damn how she hated the way her voice sounded; small and vulnerable.

'Minerva, of course, I do. Already I hate the fact that you must go to Boston,' he rested his brow against hers, his eyes closed. 'I wish I could erase the doubt from your eyes. Make it so you never have to wonder if I speak the truth about wanting to be with you.'

'I- I want to, Ben.' She admitted softly. 'But I am so afraid that you will find me lacking in every way once the newness wears off. I am so scared that you will turn your back on me like everyone else. And that would hurt me so deeply I do not know how I would move past it.'

'Never. Never.' He kissed her with heartbreaking softness. 'I swear it.'

'Then yes, Ben. I would love to live with you.'

Benedict William Montgomery had a problem; it seemed as though his body had forgotten that he was not six-and-ten. Which was why he was sitting at the luncheon table at full mast, sneaking glances at his wife's chest. It was truly unseemly behavior. Firstly, because he had already bedded his wife twice since the morning, not including the multiple times they had coupled at night, and his back was certainly starting to feel it. (Was it possible to kill oneself by sexual overexertion?)

Secondly, he was certain that Lady Eleanor had seen him. He caught her shooting disapproving glances his way.

It wasn't his fault, really. Everything had been completely normal; he had gotten some work done and gotten ready for the event in his evening formals, then had promptly escorted his wife to the auction at the fundraising event. They had sat down to a late luncheon before the evening entertainments commenced; a ball with all sorts of entertainers. As one of the highest-ranking peers at the function, Ben was among the first to be seated, casually watching the rest file in. And then his wife had caught his eye and ran a sultry finger across her chest. She was not, in fact, trying to seduce him, she had only meant to show him that she was wearing the Rothbury diamonds across her throat. The ones he'd had reset for her. 

The sight of his family jewels on her had him instantaneously hard, images of taking her while she had them on flittering through his mind. And that had been before he had caught a glimpse of the love bite he had given her on her shoulder, cleverly hidden by some powder. It wasn't noticeable unless one was consciously looking for it, but his greedy eyes saw it all the same. It roused something so barbaric and perverse in him that he had to fist his hands under the table. Something in him purred in delight at the mark of ownership she carried everywhere.

As Stanhope and his fiancé walked in, Ben saw his gaze casually scan the table before it settled on Minerva. Stanhope stumbled, his face turned ashen as if he had seen a ghost. A look at Minerva showed him that she gave him a look of utter loathing, before dismissing him from her notice entirely. Great. Nothing to kill a man's ardor quite like the sight of his wife's possible lover.

Ben suppressed his thundering anger as he observed Stanhope steal glance after glance at his wife, his expression somewhere between yearning, heartbreak, and shame. Benedict was fast losing his appetite, his grip on his fork far more tight than necessary.

God help Stanhope if he tried something tonight. Benedict would ruin him.

And what if seeing Stanhope reminds your wife that she has no reason to commit herself to the man who left her for six years? A man who she still does not trust?

He did not know what he would do then.

Perhaps drink so much that even Charlie would be horrified.

Christ.

It felt like his chest was being squeezed by a fist.

I cannot lose her. I could not bear it.

As luncheon finished, his first instinct was to find his wife and demand answers about her relationship with Stanhope, but Lady Eleanor swiftly swooped in and led him away to speak about Graham and the fallout once news of his elopement hit the public.

Damage control is our responsibility, Rothbury, she had informed him calmly. She was already planning a gigantic ball to celebrate the wedding and to show that the Hastings had naught to be ashamed over. They spoke of arrangements, time, and location. She also consulted him over the guest list. After nearly half an hour of sheer agitation later, he managed to extricate himself from the conversation. His feet carried him at an undignified pace to the ballroom, his eyes scanning for any sign of his wife.

'Say, Rothbury,' came Carlisle's drawl from his left. Ben barely just resisted jumping in shock. 'Do you and your wife still have an.....arrangement?'

'No, we do not.' Ben snapped, more rudely than the question warranted.

'You should tell that to your wife's gaggle of admirers. Her dance card might not even have space for you left.' Carlisle's smile told Ben that he was very amused with Ben's barely leashed temper. 'Your wife may be unpopular with the ladies, but the gentlemen are of a different opinion. If I were you I would never have let that woman out of my clutches.'

'What the devil do you want, Carlisle?! I'm in no mood for your riddles.'

'Tch. Tch. Rothbury, wasn't this arrangement with your wife your idea?' Carlisle tilted his head to one side. 'What is it that they say about making one's bed?'

'Sod you, Carlisle.'

'Easy there, Your Grace.' Carlisle's grin turned mocking. 'Apologise and I'll tell you where your wife went. With Stanhope on her heels, might I mention?'

Ben was going to commit murder tonight.

'What is your game, arsehole? Stanhope is one of your chums, isn't he? Why would you backstab him?'

'My game?' Carlisle chuckled. 'Believe it or not, I'm hoping to maneuver my friend into doing the right thing. As for you, irritating you amuses me. She left through the door towards the southern gardens. Careful though, lest you chance upon them in a passionate-'

'Carlisle!' Ben barked the warning.

'What? I was going to say passionate discussion.'

'Sod you.' Ben snapped as he turned on his heel, his feet carrying him toward his wife in haste.

Stanhope's life was forfeit if Ben saw anything he did not like.