"There you are!" shouted Emily. "You can barely hear me, which is not in the slightest amazing, since you are seated about a mile away." The earl picked up the decanter in one hand and his glass in the other and walked down the length of the table, pulled out a chair next to Emily, and sat down. Emily's laughter died abruptly, and she shrank back in her chair. "Now," he said evenly, "we have a great deal to discuss." "Yes, Devenham," whispered Emily. She hung her head, her blond curls tumbling about her face. Her evening gown of gold silk was cut low enough to show the rapid rise and fall of two excellent breasts. He wrenched his eyes away and stared stonily down the table. The tremendous attraction she held for him was, he was sure, the result of overlong celibacy. Any woman who was not precisely an antidote would have held the same attraction. "The situation is this," he said, taking a sip of wine and placing the glass carefully on the table. "We are locked in a marriage that is distasteful to both of us.
What do You think about Those Endearing Young Charms?
