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‘How do you know that if you only intend to wed a not-very-exciting friend? And I only want you to form a passion for the man if he is right for you.’
‘Logic will tell me that, I have no need for the sort of insane urges that ruled my mother’s life.’
‘No, but you should think a little more about your own before you marry a block, love.’
‘If I was really looking for one of those, Mr Carter would fill the bill very nicely.’
‘Believe that and you’ll believe anything,’ her father said darkly and Eve wished she’d picked a better example than the Duke of Linaire’s whatever he was: secretary, librarian, man of business? Possibly only the Duke and Mr Carter knew the answer to that question.
She remembered how it felt to have Mr Carter’s gold-brown eyes focus intently on her when he forgot his false humility. No, he wasn’t a wooden soldier at all. Papa was quite right; there was a sharply intelligent and sensitive man under that quiet exterior and she would do well to remember it if they ever met again, which seemed very unlikely as he was the Duke of Linaire’s clerk and not part of the ton.
‘My one-day marriage and Mr Carter aside, what do you mean to do about the Hancourts, Papa?’
‘When I track them down, I shall make sure they know all I do. I don’t know if that will help much, since I don’t properly understand it myself.’
‘What does she say, then, Papa? You can’t hint at something that might be a clue, then refuse to tell me any more lest you offend my delicate sensibilities.’
Eventually he handed her a list he had copied out, and censored, from entries in Pamela’s diaries where she gloated over the fabulous jewels she had coaxed out of her lover one by one. Eve could hardly believe any woman could lust after cold gemstones so ruthlessly and it left her with an unpleasant taste in her mouth, despite all her assurances to her father that Pamela had done her worst as far as her daughter was concerned.
Chapter Six (#ulink_283478ce-3247-552c-bb85-b69e63e2eeaf)
As she tried to go about her day as normal Eve was annoyed with herself for constantly drifting off into a reverie. She hoped her father wasn’t right to be uneasy about Mr Carter. No, of course he wasn’t. She was immune to love and passion; if she wasn’t she would have let it carry her away long ago. An unwanted image of Mr Carter waiting to lead his men into battle flitted into Eve’s mind all the same. He would exude confidence even if he was terrified and look unforgivably handsome in his Rifleman green uniform while he was about it. A silken voice whispered in her ear that was how a real man should look and never mind the marks of battle the great idiot thought wiped out any manly beauty he had—Mr Carter was more a man than the weak-willed and self-indulgent aristocrats he was supposedly inferior to.
Take Lord Christopher Hancourt, since he was in her thoughts as well today. That weak and overindulged man had never faced a moment of real hardship or danger until the very last seconds of his life, but Carter had defied both for nearly every day of the last eight years. How irritating if her father was right and he really had intrigued her too much for comfort. The one man she could never marry was the only one to make her think twice during this tedious time she had to spend away from her real life at Darkmere or Farenze Lodge near Bath.
Anyway, she had learnt long ago not to trust a man’s passion for a willing woman the hard way, hadn’t she? Her first real suitor seemed so earnest and naïve and in love she somehow fooled herself she loved him back. She doubted that spotty youth sat comfortably for a month after Papa and Uncle James thrashed him like a sniffling schoolboy, but she learnt a hard lesson that night. Her mother’s wicked reputation would descend on her if she wasn’t very careful indeed and she had been ever since. Too careful, perhaps, given how she was having to struggle to get not very humble and decidedly awkward Mr Carter out of her mind now.
It was probably the silly, rebellious part of it that once believed a boy’s lust was love whispering that Mr Carter was uniquely formed to understand her. He could see past the gloss Winterley money and prestige added to her unremarkable looks. He seemed to know about the true heart she’d learnt to keep so safe, even she had almost forgotten she had one. He might do any and all of that, but it wouldn’t do either of them any good. They were as divided from each other as the Ganges was from the Thames, or the icy poles at opposite ends of the earth. Made of the same substance, but thousands of miles apart in every way that really mattered.
Colm thought he would hear no more of the Winterley family, but it was only a few days after their last encounter that Miss Winterley confounded him all over again. He turned over the brief note an urchin had delivered to Derneley House before he ran off. No, the hastily scrawled words really were as brief and uninformative as he’d thought they were the first time.
Please come as fast as you can. I am waiting with a hackney at the corner of the mews. Do not tell anyone you are meeting me and try not to be seen. E.W.
One of the more innocent letters Colm’s father had sent to her mother years ago had fallen out of the sealed note to prove this wasn’t a hoax. It was ten o’clock on a dark autumn night, for heaven’s sake; even meeting him at this hour of the night would mean certain ruin if they were discovered. He shrugged into his dull coat and reached for his shabby hat, even as he told himself he was a fool to think of going anywhere with her. He still slipped into the garden through a side door and locked it after himself in the hope nobody would even notice he had gone.
‘Hurry,’ her low and deliberately gruff voice ordered as soon as he crept out of the garden gate. He saw a hackney doing its best to pretend it wasn’t there and finally had to believe this was really happening.
‘What the devil…?’ he began only to have her reach out and tug him into the carriage as if there wasn’t a moment to spare.
‘Take us to the place we agreed inside ten minutes and I’ll pay you twice the price,’ she ordered the hackney driver as coolly as if she kidnapped limping clerks every night of the week.
The coach shot forward so fast Colm was surprised they didn’t tumble out. There wasn’t even time to gasp out another question before they were clattering over cobbled streets as if their lives depended on it and she wouldn’t be able to hear him. Exclusive parts of Mayfair flashed past until they reached Oxford Street, crossed it at a reckless pace, then finally slowed as they neared Cavendish Square and stopped just short of it.
‘Shush!’ she whispered as Colm climbed down and stood on the cobbles, feeling like a mooncalf as he tried to make sense of the world and she handed two guineas to the jarvey, then grabbed Colm’s arm as if she owned him.
As soon as the shabby little carriage was out of sight he stood stock still, so she had to let him go, fall over, or cling to him like a limpet. Luckily she did the latter, but gave an irritated click of her tongue, as if all this was his fault and he decided he’d had enough.
‘Explain,’ he demanded abruptly.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be a man of action and not words?’ she muttered, as if she was having severe doubts about bringing him along after all.
‘Not any more,’ he replied gruffly.
‘Imagine you still are and simply use the brains officers in your regiment are supposed to possess, although I see little sign of them right now.’
‘Never mind trading insults with me; I’m not going a step further unless you give me a very good reason to do so.’
‘My cousin has been reckless and silly and I must get her away from here before it’s too late to remedy. You are here to help me do so—now will you hurry?’
‘Your parents are responsible for her, they ought to know what she’s been up to and make sure she never does it again.’
‘Believe me, she won’t. Now move, you great ox, before it’s too late.’
Cavendish Square, now why did that ring a bell? Colm let himself be prodded into motion while he reviewed a half-heard conversation between Derneley and his lady about their evening.
‘Lady Warlington’s masquerade,’ he murmured as it all fell into place.
‘That will turn into a drunken romp long before midnight. Lady Warlington’s brothers will see to it if nobody else does,’ Derneley had joked. His wife agreed and put it with the slender pile of invitations they still received now they were so widely known to be drowning in River Tick.
‘Exactly,’ Miss Winterley said now, as if that explained everything.
‘Why would Miss Revereux be anywhere near such an event, especially seeing that she isn’t even out?’
‘Because an empty-headed youth begged her to meet him there and it probably seems like a huge adventure to her,’ she muttered.
‘Who is this idiot?’
‘Verity is only fifteen and Lady Warlington’s youngest brother is startlingly handsome, so I suppose it’s understandable she sighs over the silly boy and imagines herself in love with him. He should never have dared her to meet him tonight, though. If she’s at this wretched party dressed as I suspect she must be from the items missing from the dressing up box, she won’t have a shred of reputation left to lose if we don’t find her before anyone else does, for he won’t care about ruining such a young girl’s prospects. I suspect he would find it horribly amusing.’
Fuming at the very idea some lout might casually wreck such a young girl’s future before she was old enough to be out of the schoolroom, Colm let Miss Winterley bundle him towards the back of Lord Warlington’s town house and they waited for a chance to slip inside without being noticed. At last a door opened to let in cold night air and Colm finally saw the way Miss Winterley was dressed and he knew why she needed him with her and nobody else. Who but Mr Carter could Miss Winterley rely on to pass through the servants’ hall at this time of night with little more than a raised eyebrow if they were caught?
She made a fine serving wench, he admitted numbly, as the fact he had been on hand at the right time and dressed more shabbily than any other male of her acquaintance stung more sharply than it should. Any doubts he had about her clever cover failing them when they got to the public rooms faded when she scooped up a discarded mask as if she was diligently tidying the chaos, then unearthed a domino from behind a classical statue. Thrusting both at him as if he ought to know what to do next without being told, she went to forage for her own disguise whilst he gathered his wits enough to meekly put them on. Who am I supposed to be this time? he silently asked his reflection in a nearby mirror. A somebody pretending to be a nobody, the false image mocked back at him. He looked almost like the man he could have been—a rich idler who thought it amusing to ape a clerk when he had never done a decent day’s work in his life.
A loud bellow sounded along the corridor he had seen Miss Winterley disappear into just now and it was echoed by another drunken sot who sounded far too castaway to move very fast. He should have remembered what happened to the confounded female when she wandered about once-grand houses on her own. Cursing himself for being so glum about Miss Winterley’s uses for him tonight, he had let her go by herself. Colm was halfway along it, and bad leg be damned, when she came dashing towards him as if the hounds of hell were on her tail.
‘Hide me,’ she gasped as heavy treads sounded behind her.
There wasn’t a niche big enough to hold a classical statue or a handy cupboard, so he tugged her into his arms and put his body between her and whoever was trying to chase her down this time. He pushed her against the nearest marble column as if they had been aiming for the right place to dally with each other ever since they stumbled out of the ballroom frantic for one another only moments ago.
‘Not like tha—’ she was saying even as he kissed her passionately.
She struggled fiercely for a moment, then gave in with a huge sigh, went gloriously responsive and kissed him back as if she had been starving for this since the night they met as well. For a moment he let himself dream she wanted him as urgently as he did her. Her mouth first softened, then seemed to ask for impossible answers under his. Are you my special he? she might as well be asking as she explored his mouth with an edge of wonder under the inexperience. Could you be the lover I have dreamt of since I was woman enough to ache for him?
Yes, yes, to all of it. To every question you could ever ask of that man, yes, the true Colm under all his careful defences whispered back. He forgot where they were and what the world would say if it knew who he was and simply kissed her and let his senses drown in blissful unreason.
‘Tally-ho,’ the less drunken of the two voices bellowed almost in his ear.
Colm cursed reality and tried to think straight when all he really wanted to do was go on kissing Eve Winterley and feeling something beyond his wildest dreams for this dear enemy of his. He raised his head as if bitterly offended and impatient of any interruption of that soul-stealing kiss and it wasn’t any effort at all to glare at the swaying idiot as if he hated him.
‘I saw the pretty little vixen first,’ the buffoon had the audacity to say, as if Colm would apologise and politely step aside then leave him to do his worst. ‘Don’t think we’ve met, I’m Louburn, y’know?’
‘I don’t think we have either, but my wife avoids drunken fools whenever she can and I am not about to introduce you to her,’ he said and felt Eve shaking with nerves in his arms as he cursed the nearest buffoon virulently under his breath.
‘You claim you’re my sister’s guests, yet you’re married to a servant girl? That don’t sound right to me,’ the second drunk managed, and now Eve had two of Lady Warlington’s notorious brothers on her tail. A flutter of panic joined the butterflies Mr Carter had set spinning about inside her with that heart-stopping kiss. If she was desperately unlucky one of these fools would be sober enough to realise who she really was and that she wasn’t married to anyone, especially not to Mr Carter, usually to be found in the latest Duke of Linaire’s library.
‘Even cast away you should be able to recall you’re doing your best to spoil your sister’s masquerade and not in some dockside tavern, Louburn,’ Carter told the elder Louburn brother so brusquely she wondered why she’d ever have thought him too withdrawn and mild-mannered to be an effective officer.
‘We ain’t met before, have we?’ the slightly less drunken brother asked blearily.
‘Let’s just say your reputation goes before you and leave it at that, shall we?’ her brave cavalier said icily and Eve wondered how the menace under that weary comment could pass these idiots by when it made her tremble and it wasn’t even directed at her.
‘Wife or not, she ain’t wearing a mask, is she?’ the more eager Mr Louburn asked, as if his stinking reputation was something to be proud of and he wanted a woman right now, so one ought to be instantly available—willing or not. The more she thought about Verity wandering unprotected about such a house on such a night the more anxious Eve was to find her and get them all out of here before tonight went even more disastrously wrong.
‘No, and that’s because we were looking for privacy and you interrupted us. Why would my lady need a mask when I know every inch of her and can recognise her even in the dark? Not that I need explain myself to a sot like you.’
Even Eve believed in the outraged aristocrat Mr Carter was pretending to be at the moment. He had put aside the would-be humble and workaday Mr Carter and spoken with such authority it almost seemed rude not to believe every word he said. She shivered at the thought that here was the true man under his mild disguise and decided it was a good idea to go along with him and pretend she was his modest wife, caught in not very modest circumstances. She buried her head against his shoulder for good measure and to stop the wretches from taking a second look at her and realising where they’d seen her before.
‘Come on, Bart, there’s far better sport to be had elsewhere without having to mill him down to get to it and I’m thirsty,’ the less amorous brother said with fading interest in anything but his next drink.
‘Two of us, don’t you see? We can easily take him on between us, Rolly. Nobody’ll be any the wiser if we throw him outside, then I can tup his wife in peace and they won’t tell anyone, will they? Scandal as much on them as us, see?’ he said, tapping his finger where he thought his nose ought to be.
Eve felt the tightly wound tension in Colm’s surprisingly powerful body at that despicable threat to treat them both as if they’d been put on this earth to meet a lusty drunkard’s convenience. The pent-up violence crackled in the air all around them now. Suddenly this farce had threatened to turn very dark and she didn’t want Mr Carter to get hurt, any more than she wanted to be violated herself.
‘And there are only two of you?’ Carter drawled with such terrible confidence she wanted to cry out a warning that they were notorious brawlers and he must find a safer way to stop this threat to their safety and sanity. ‘Hide your face,’ he whispered to her as he pushed her behind him, then turned on his latest adversaries with such calmness her hands did as they were told before her mind could argue. She peeped at what happened next through shaking fingers and for a moment was quite sure her eyes were deceiving her.
It was over too fast for her to have time to pile into the mêlée and never mind Carter’s high-handed efforts to keep her out of it. She would have kicked and bitten and clawed against the casual brutality of these two so-called gentlemen, except they were dealt with so swiftly and efficiently she had no time to form her hands into claws and spring into action. A sporting man might call it as pretty a display as he ever saw outside a boxing ring, she decided in dazed shock. Perfectly flush hits to the jaw one after the other and there was nothing left for either of them to do but stare down at a heap of unconscious Louburn brothers, until Carter shook out his protesting hands in brief agony and gave her a harassed glare. While she was still struggling to come to terms with his might and such an unexpected skill he dragged first one Louburn, then the other back into the ruin they had made of a once-elegant room and locked the door on them, then pocketed the key with an exasperated sigh.
‘Well, I told you not to look,’ he said gruffly as he straightened his domino and handed her one he must have found in that rogues’ den the Louburns had made of their brother-in-law’s home, along with a far prettier mask than the one that hid most of Carter’s thoughts from her right now and made his eyes look even more intriguing when he stared down at her as if he wanted to read all the confused thoughts and feelings scurrying about in her reeling head. Not that she could afford to be intrigued by the man, she reminded herself hastily, as she numbly put on her new disguise and wondered what disaster they should expect next.
‘I wasn’t… Well, no, that’s not quite right, I’m not…’
You were not what, Eve? her inner critic mocked. Not shocked, not awed and feeling a little bit breathless at the power and deadly purpose of the true man under Mr Carter’s pretend humility? Not secretly longing for him to repeat that kiss with interest added on to say thank you for saving you from the worst of his kind and that you did rather like it the first time?
‘Never mind what you are or are not right now. How the deuce are we going to find your little sister or cousin or whatever it is you two call one another in this bear garden?’
‘Oh, yes, Verity,’ she murmured, still so off balance from that kiss and his heroics afterwards she had almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. ‘She has no idea aping Caro Lamb in breeches could get her into far more trouble than if she came dressed as an opera dancer,’ she blurted out Verity’s disgraceful disguise and heard him groan even above the din of excited chatter and laughter and the orchestra desperately trying to be heard above it all in the ballroom at the end of this side corridor.
‘Oh, good, now we only need to find the next riot and suppress it, then lock up the rest of the Louburn family and get out of here without being recognised, then we should all be able to go home and sleep serenely as if we never left our beds in the first place,’ he said with such irony and an angry glare that seen through the filter of his dark mask looked almost fearsome, except he was also looking rather deliciously mysterious, flighty Eve pointed out helpfully. ‘The girl is obviously not fit to be let out without a keeper,’ he growled and she sighed to oblige that silly version of herself and wondered if he might be persuaded to visit a more sedate masquerade with her if she asked him very nicely.
Ridiculous idea, her sterner inner self pointed out, and she tried hard to concentrate on what he’d said instead of feeling prickles of something that must be forbidden slide down her spine at the sound of his voice so gruff and dark and the stern glint of his eyes through that mask. She shivered, although for some reason she was incredibly warm, and even that didn’t seem to put all these wicked ideas out of her mind and certainly did nothing for her rebellious body.
‘She is only fifteen,’ she said as if that ought to explain everything and she struggled with the fact her grip on this misadventure seemed to have slipped and she was following him like a meek little acolyte behind a high priest, or a besotted girl after the man she thought was the love her life.
If not for Verity, she would be quite content to drift among the elegant chaos of this rather wild party and feel deliciously daring yet utterly safe in the company of a tall, dark and compelling man of mystery. Mr Carter always wore a disguise, she decided; she doubted he ever let the world see the real man, even if he could afford clothes the dandies of the ton wouldn’t shudder to be seen standing next to. Yes, if not for Verity she would be quite happy to stay until too close to midnight and run the tempting risk of being caught in the least desirable company the Honourable Miss Winterley could find herself in if she tried.
She hardly recognised the cool and controlled Eve Winterley she had made herself become when she realised how eagerly the ton was waiting for her to turn into her mother. The female clutching Carter’s strong hand as if he was her rock and only chance of safety in a sea full of storms was a stranger. So much for not relying on a man to make her feel strong; for never looking for all the things her mother spent her life longing for. Eve still didn’t want a man’s unconditional surrender, or constant proof he worshipped her like some pagan goddess. The very idea made her shudder with revulsion, but a mutual surrender to something more than the coolly logical marriage she had thought she wanted seemed so very desirable right now it felt sinful. At least she understood that raw state of wanting a little better after his heady kiss and the shock of seeing Carter the fighting man emerge from the shadows. Another mask, she decided as the music and wild laughter got even louder. How many disguises could one man wear and not lose his true self?
Chapter Seven (#ulink_7305e5b8-4b95-518a-a550-63043f94fffe)
‘Eve…’ The desperate whisper came before someone noticed she and Carter were standing on the fringes of this wild party and came to find out who was hiding under their ingenious disguises.
If they weren’t careful they’d be seen by too many curious eyes under the glow of what looked like a thousand candles in the noisy ballroom ahead of them and someone might recognise her. Eve could just see the curtains of an alcove off the corridor they were almost at the end of and thanked heavens they had not had to brave the full glare of the crowd ahead to search for her almost cousin.
‘Verity?’ she whispered sharply. ‘What the deuce are you doing here?’ she asked, hoping the boy who carelessly drew a fifteen-year-old girl into this rowdy chaos didn’t come to find out if she had turned up for an assignation she was far too young to understand.
‘I was looking for a way out,’ Verity said, looking very pale and deeply shocked by what she had seen so far, as well as a bit woebegone.
Perhaps this latest escapade had overwhelmed even her high spirits and it would make her think twice about trying to run before she was ready to walk in so-called polite society. Eve couldn’t think it very polite, or even glamorous after this circus herself, so maybe letting Verity see the dark side of it all wasn’t such a bad idea, if they could only get her out of here relatively unscathed and with her reputation intact, despite Rufus Louburn’s worst efforts.
‘At least you have done one sensible thing tonight, then,’ Eve whispered sharply, not inclined to be disarmed after what she and Mr Carter had already been through on this little madam’s behalf.
‘Leave her be for now, you can scold her once we have all got safely away,’ Carter cautioned softly. ‘And let’s hope we don’t have to go back the way we came. Those two drunken idiots could be awake and howling for revenge on us by now,’ he murmured in her ear. She stifled a giggle as he managed to make a joke of what could have been a vicious struggle for more than she wanted to think about right now.
‘Ah, I thought so. I knew there had to be more than one back stairway down to the vast basement there must be under the house,’ he whispered as a jib door Eve hadn’t even thought to look out for opened under his probing fingers and showed her once again that he was a lot more composed than she was after that earth-shaking kiss. It had seemed about to make her world anew for a wild moment and perhaps it was only one on a long list of such sweet encounters for him. Didn’t soldiers have a sweetheart in every town they passed through? The contrast between dashing Mr Carter of the 95th Rifles and the shabby clerk she’d met that night at Derneley House made her wonder if there might be other versions of this complex man for her to discover, if she dared to look.
At least the narrow stair he’d found was lit by the occasional ensconced candle, she saw with a shudder. The bareness and gloom behind the narrow door made her feel as if the walls might press in on her, but this was what maids endured every day of their lives so their employers could enjoy the privacy and luxury of nigh invisible service. If she and Verity had been born to poverty they might be the ones labouring every hour God sent at this very moment; enduring the insecurity and danger that went with being young and female in such a household. Instead they were stumbling down the bare wooden stairs in Mr Carter’s wake and Eve couldn’t let her fear show with Verity between them and her fragile young shoulders shaking so hard she was clearly on the verge of hysteria.
‘Oh, Eve, thank God you came.’ Verity launched herself at Eve once they reached the bottom of the cramped stairway and it opened into a grim little stairwell with gloomy corridors stretching four different ways. A storm of frightened tears threatened until Carter bowed as if Verity was a lot more grown up than she appeared right now and bade her a smooth, ‘Good evening, Miss Revereux.’
‘You’re Eve’s Mr Carter, aren’t you? I remember you from the park.’
‘Maybe I am then, but we really must get out of here before midnight when everyone is obliged to take their masks off, you know? If we meet any servants on our way, we shall have to pretend to be a very scandalous trio indeed. You and your cousin are going to be my pretty ladybirds for the night. Do you think you can act such a wild part? I know it’s a lot to ask after all you witnessed tonight, but I really don’t want to be dragged back into that ballroom and made to unmask, do you?’
‘No,’ Verity said with such a fervent shake of her head Eve wondered once again exactly what she had seen tonight.
‘Very well, you only need endure this pretence for a few more minutes and then we’ll have you out of here and back at Farenze House as if you were fast asleep all the time,’ he said with a grin Eve caught herself being fiercely jealous of.
She wondered at herself again when he draped an arm round each of their shoulders and hugged her so close every inch of her skin felt man-warmed and prickly and responsive to him and him alone. Heaven forbid Verity felt even a hint of the sizzling excitement that was running through her like wildfire. At least that notion sobered her sharply enough to seem cool when he looked down at her with one raised eyebrow, as if to say, Needs must when the devil drives, so don’t blame me.
‘Is my scar visible?’ he asked prosaically and she gave an almost wifely sigh and raised both her own brows at his unexpected vanity. ‘I don’t want us to stand out in any way but the obvious,’ he whispered as if he had read her mind and couldn’t believe she thought him so shallow.
‘Set me free,’ she demanded and reached up to ruffle his unruly hair until it curled as far as Mr Carter had left her length enough to work with. As she pushed and pulled it to hide the mark of his ordeal at Waterloo her hand shook as the reality of how close he’d come to death hit home and made her eyes water at the thought of never being able to know him at all. Reminding herself she couldn’t afford to fall in love with this mystery of a man, she stood back and eyed her handiwork critically. His hair had felt as intriguing as she thought it might the first night they met. Soft and at the same time full of life and she still wasn’t quite sure if it was more gold or brown in the dim light, any more than his eyes could decide between the same colours as they watched her with a question in them that had nothing to do with how unmemorable she had managed to make him.
‘That’s better,’ Verity said in a whisper that barely wobbled at all, so at least she was beginning to recover some of her usual spirit.
‘And don’t push it out of your eyes when you’re not thinking and ruin my handiwork, will you?’ Eve chided him. And how had she let herself notice that he did exactly that when he was distracted? They had not met enough times for her to need two hands to count them on and she was picking up on his habits as if he was her lifetime study. This silliness really would have to stop. ‘And you had best lean some of your weight on me and do your best not to limp as well,’ she added briskly.
‘I suppose I must,’ he said ruefully. ‘Now if you will both loosen your laces and ruffle your own hair and try to look a lot more undone than you are right now, ladies, I think we will be able to get on with this private masquerade of ours and have you both safely back home before the clocks strike midnight.’
Two hours could drag by on broken wheels or be so full of incidents it was almost impossible to believe so little time had passed since she set out, Eve mused. Verity even seemed to be enjoying the joke now. She unbuttoned her velvet jacket and undid the laces of her shirt so it would gape open to prove she really wasn’t the uninformed youth her breeches argued. If this charade reignited her step-cousin’s adventurous nature, Eve supposed she had to be glad, even if she didn’t want Verity thinking such folly should ever be repeated. She would just have to find a way to calm her down when they got home, lest Verity wake half the household with overwrought high spirits. Eve felt cool air on the exposed upper slopes of her own bosom as she did as Carter asked as well. Very adult emotions shivered through her when his gaze followed the soft stuff of her borrowed gown as it fell open, then he lingered hungrily on the last remaining slice of ribbon that left her shift straining on the edge of decency between her breasts, as if he badly wanted to undo it and explore even more of her than he already had.
‘That will have to do,’ she told him severely, because she badly wanted him to as well and that was wrong in so many ways she could hardly count them.
‘At least that much temptation should distract any healthy males we happen to meet on our travels,’ he said as if that was all that mattered, and he was right, wasn’t he?
Luckily most of the servants were still upstairs waiting on the company and the kitchen maids too busy in the scullery to see aught but steam and a mountain of dirty dishes and pots and pans. Which only left a chef sitting at the smaller table in the kitchen and trying not to fall asleep in the remnants of one of his own creations and a pastry cook to be shocked by the quality sneaking out through their domain with a few flustered giggles from the so-called ladies and a bad-dog smirk from a happy-looking gentleman who was stealing away from this wild party with a woman under each arm.
‘Lucky dog,’ the chef said with a regretful sigh and a jaded look at the bridling cook, as if to say some men had all the luck tonight and he wasn’t one of them.
