“Then I must assume there are topiary hedges tall enough to conceal any activity beyond.” One did not need experience in illicit liaisons to know why some couples favoured the garden. “No doubt you have a small summerhouse and auction the key to the highest bidder.”
Mr Chandler’s eyes widened. “That is an excellent idea. I have a wooden garden room but never thought to charge for its use.”
She gave a satisfied sigh. “Perhaps a gentleman will be so desperate to spend time alone with his mistress he’ll cover the cost of repaying your vowel.”
“There are men foolish enough although ten thousand pounds is rather a big ask.” A chuckle left his lips. When he smiled, his emerald eyes glistened like dew on a blade of grass.
Goodness, she really should rein in her romantic musings.
“You’d be surprised,” she said dragging her thoughts away from the dimple on his right cheek. “I imagine the gentlemen who attend your parties are full of their own importance. You only need to persuade one of them to offer an extortionate sum, and the rest will follow. You could decorate the space in a theme that might prove enticing.”
Mr Chandler rubbed his chin. “And what would you find enticing, Priscilla? Where would a man take you if he hoped to lure
you into temptation?”
The rich, languid tone to his voice sent a shiver racing from her shoulders to her toes. How was she to answer? Other than the few kisses she had shared with Mr Chandler she knew nothing of intimate relations. Even so, she imagined somewhere warm, sumptuous, comfortable.
“Aunt Elizabeth told me that Lord Banbury has a sultan room. The exotic always draws a crowd. Have you seen it?”
“No. I’ve heard tales of Banbury’s extravagance but suspected they were overrated.”
“Reams of red silk line the walls. Plush velvet cushions litter the floor. Those who enter must remove their shoes. The ladies can try on bracelets with charms, anklets that jingle. The theme lends itself to decadence. Whenever Lord Banbury opens up the room, there is always a crush.”
“And you suggest I create such a place at home?”
“It would certainly prove to be an attraction.”
Mr Chandler studied her. “I didn’t realise I’d married a woman with a head for business.”
Most men would not allow their wives to speak so freely. “If you object to my input, then please say so.”
“On the contrary,” he snorted. “I welcome your opinion. Never feel you cannot be open and honest.”
She tilted her head. The man surprised her at every turn. “Perhaps I might be useful to you occasionally.”
His gaze travelled slowly over her. “I’m sure you will.” The simple statement sounded like a lascivious promise.
A vibrant energy filled the air. The mutual attraction was undeniable. With his hungry gaze and parted lips, he gave every indication he eagerly awaited the intimacy married couples shared.
“What a shame we must join our guests this morning,” he continued. “A private celebration would have been a far better option.”
Priscilla breathed deeply. Her husband had a way of heating her blood with a few innocent words. Then again, he was skilled in seduction.
“There is no need to keep up the pretence when we are alone, Mr Chandler.”
The smile gracing his lips carried a hint of pity. “Whatever is said between us will always be the truth. You will soon learn that love and desire are separate things entirely. I do not need to feel any long-lasting affection to be intimate with you. And we are not in our dotage, Priscilla. You will call me Matthew.”
Before she had a chance to reply, the carriage rattled to a stop outside number twenty-six Grosvenor Street. A footman dressed in blue and white livery assisted her descent as another rushed to greet them with an umbrella.
“Welcome to your new home.” Matthew placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her into the hall. “I thought you could meet the servants briefly. Tomorrow you may confer with Mrs Jacobs, the housekeeper, and then consult me on any changes you wish to make.”
Priscilla scanned the line of cheerful staff. “There are rather a lot of footmen for a house in town.” She counted six. The men were all tall, broad and muscular, a little too coarse in appearance when compared to the servants in all the best houses.
“I entertain here twice a week. Sometimes the crowd can be a little hard to tame,” he said as though party to her thoughts. “While I am handy with my fists, it is wise to have men to call upon when needed.”
“I see.” An image of drunken lords brawling on the dance floor flashed into her mind, of scantily clad ladies giggling at the raucous display.
“This is Hopkins.” Matthew gestured to the butler, a man also lacking the refined air considered a prerequisite for the position. His features challenged all preconceptions: a flat, squashed nose as opposed to one long and straight with razor-sharp edges. Hopkins’ face was full, his lips thick rather than the hollow cheeks and thin disapproving mouth she was used to.