Read Ruined by Moonlight for Free Online Page B

all over London society like wildfire. Lord Whitbridge wanted discretion and Ben could not blame him. His daughter’s reputation was at stake. Her maid had been questioned and sworn to secrecy and paid well to keep that promise, but apparently the girl had known nothing.
    And somehow Ben was supposed to keep the news from his wife. That didn’t bode at all well for a mutually satisfying reconciliation of their current rift.
    “Is there anything else, sir?”
    Startled, Ben glanced up, realizing that Morton was looking at him inquiringly and his dressing gown was laid neatly on the turned-down bed. “No, thank you,” he murmured with a slight nod.
    “Good night, then, my lord.”
    The young Irishman left and Ben began to unbutton his shirt, but his gaze went again to the door into the adjoining suite and his fingers stilled. “Damnation,” he muttered, indecision not something he usually struggled with, but this afternoon and his wife’s ultimatum were very much on his mind.
    Perhaps Alicia was asleep, in which case it was only polite to leave her alone. His pride actually urged him to simply ignore her presence in the very next room and let this whim of hers pass.
    On the other hand, he
was
her husband. In their world, that meant he controlled everything in her life: her pin money, the events she chose to attend, where she resided.
    But, truth be told, he had never considered exerting that level of autocratic control over her. However, it chafed to admit he hadn’t really considered their marriage in terms of friendship either, and that seemed to be what Alicia had been saying earlier.
    Were husbands and wives meant to be friends?
    It wasn’t at all what he intended when he married her. He didn’t wish for a companion; he wanted a wife, a mother for his children, and a hostess for his guests. It was a simple equation.
    But he’d be damned if he was not reluctant to try that connecting door, in case she rejected him.
    The decision was taken away from him as the door opened and Alicia came into his bedroom without so much as a knock, her dark glossy hair hanging loose and brushing her hips, a light pink silk dressing gown tied at her slim waist, just a hint of lace at her bosom telling him—disappointingly—that she wore her night rail under her robe.
    “Did you have a nice evening, my lord?” She stopped a few feet away, the single lamp throwing shadows on her cheekbones. “I’d retired, but was up reading and heard you come in.”
    Did
he have a nice evening? He wasn’t sure if probing into the disappearance of a missing young woman whohappened to be one of his wife’s relations—all the while forbidden to say a word about it—and a drink in the stuffy confines of one of London’s most exclusive men’s clubs qualified. He said neutrally, “On the whole, it was uneventful.”
    “I suppose I should not be all that surprised at your answer.” She glanced around with interest, though for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what there was to be interested
in
. A framed map on the wall, two upholstered chairs in dark green velvet—he hadn’t even realized that was his favorite color until she’d pointed it out, but she must be right, for he’d selected the fabric himself—an armoire in the corner, the bed, of course, and a small display of elegant snuffboxes in an antique cabinet.
    To his chagrin, she focused on that singularly uncharacteristic ornamental collection and wandered over, the hem of her dressing gown fanning out and the sway of her hips provocative. “I have not been in this room more than once or twice. Yet I have always wondered about this. They are quite decorative, I must admit. Where did they come from?”
    What was decorative was her compelling beauty, all raven hair and silken skin, and when she turned to look at him, Ben almost forgot she’d even asked him a question. Her eyes shimmered in the flickering light, and her lips looked soft and tempting.
    Very tempting.
    She still