“Tell me something, Lady Roslyn,” he began. He did not know where he was going with this, but their conversation had been stilted from the moment they began this dance. There were only so many ways to discuss the weather. It rained. The end. “Where has your chaperone gone?” He glanced around the ballroom and couldn’t locate her. Had she run scared? Did she dread dancing with him that much?
Lady Roslyn glanced around and then shrugged. Not a very ladylike action, but it made her seem more…relatable. “I wish I knew,” she told him. Lady Roslyn frowned. “It’s not like her to disappear. I hope she’s not ill.”
“Is that the only reason she might leave?” He lifted a brow. She was running from him. He didn’t know how he knew that with such certainty, but he did. He’d bet his entire estate on it. “Should we find her?” He needed to locate her. It made little sense, but he felt it in his bones. He was drawn to her, and he didn’t know why.
“After the dance is finished,” she told him between turns. “I’ll check the ladies’ retiring room. If she’s ill, that is likely where she’ll be.”
He nodded. Lady Roslyn could check there. Maxwell had other plans. That was the obvious place for her to hide, but she didn’t seem the sort to take the easy path. He’d look elsewhere and if he was meant to find her, he would. Either way, they would speak again. He’d ensure it.
The music slowed and then came to an end. Maxwell bowed before Lady Roslyn. “Thank you for the dance. Please inform me if you need any assistance locating your chaperone.”
“I will, your grace.” She curtsied, and then rushed off to find Lady Moreland. At least he presumed that was what she went off to do.
Maxwell walked in the opposite direction. Last he noticed, the young widow she’d been deep in a discussion with a different lady. If he was not mistaken, that lady was betrothed to the Earl of Wyndam. How were they acquainted? That was a question for another day or when he found her. He stopped at the location he’d seen her and glanced around, then grinned. It was near the balcony doors that lead out to a terrace. He’d been at this manor house before. That terrace had a staircase that led down to the gardens below. It was such a lovely night for a stroll. Had she gone out there? He was about to find out.
He walked toward the doors and exited the ballroom. The moon was full and bright, giving him enough illumination to guide him over the balcony and to the nearby staircase. There were several people enjoying the night sky, but none of them were Eden. He went to the stairs and strolled down them. There were not as many at the edges of the garden as there had been on the terrace. It was far more scandalous to go this far, and even more so deeper into the garden.
The scent of flowers of all sorts drifted toward him. He followed that scent as if it would lead him to his quarry. Maybe it would… He took a path that wound around and stopped at the center of the garden. An intricate fountain lie in the middle with benches encircling it. Eden sat on one of them and leaned over to let her hand drift in the water. She looked so lovely in the moonlight. Almost like the goddess depicted in marble before her, inviting him to join her.
“I do believe this is our dance,” he said.
She jerked upright and turned to meet his gaze. Her mouth fell open. He didn’t know if it was in shock or she failed to find the right words. Either way, it was adorable. His lips quirked upward as he waited for her to catch her bearings. He held his hand out to her in invitation. She glanced at it, then back up to his face. “There is no music out here.”
“Do we need music?”
She tilted her head to the side. “It usually helps one keep the rhythm of the dance.”
“We can make our own,” he said. “There are no rules between us. Only what we decide.”
Something about this, about her was so familiar. Like she belonged with him… Maxwell couldn’t remember feeling like this with another woman. No, that wasn’t true. There was another, but Eden wasn’t her. He didn’t know who she was, but surely he’d recognize her if he found her again.
She shook her head. “Rules exist for a reason.”
“Is that so?” He lifted a brow. “Sometimes breaking them is the only thing one can do. Break them with me, Lady Moreland.” He wanted desperately to call her Eden, but refrained. That was an intimacy he wanted her to grant him. He wouldn’t take what she didn’t willingly offer.
She breathed in deeply, then stood. “I’m uncertain about this.”
“I am,” he told her and stepped closer. “This is a moment in time. One that is ripe with magic. Can’t you feel it?” Maxwell didn’t do whimsy. Where was this nonsense coming from? It was her. She did this to him. He held out his hand to her again. “Come, dance with me, darling.”
She inhaled sharply. He held his breath. Would she come to him? Slowly, she moved forward until she was within his reach. She only had to take one more step and he could pull her closer. He silently pleaded with her until she took that last step and placed her hand in his. “Lead the way, your grace.”
He smiled down at her and then brought her closer. Much closer than the waltz would have allowed. They would dance, but he wanted to feel her as they moved. Almost like a dance much more intimate, and one where they wouldn’t have clothes between them. They danced in silence. Almost as if they had agreed that speaking would break the spell that had woven around them. Maxwell wanted to kiss her, but held back. He’d already pushed her farther than she seemed willing to go. He’d believed he’d wanted Lady Roslyn, but now he reconsidered. Perhaps a widow was exactly what he needed.
No. That wasn’t quite true. She was what he wanted… And he always got what he wanted. Eden would be his. He just needed to convince her that she wanted him as much as he desired her.
Six
Eden leaned against the side of the carriage and stared out the window. There wasn’t much to see outside, but it was somehow soothing to watch the trees pass by in a small whir of greens and browns. She kept playing that dance through her mind on repeat. He’d been so charming and wonderful. For a few moments, she had been tempted to tell him everything. He clearly didn’t recognize her. What would he do or say if he realized they had an intimate past? She wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to that question. The very idea of spilling her secret was not worth considering. It would not lead her down the path she hoped it would.
“What has you so preoccupied?” Roslyn asked. “You must be thrilled to attend this house party. Just think, in a fortnight, Claudine will be a countess.”
“That isn’t what is important to her,” Eden answered. She’d purposely ignored Roslyn’s question. She didn’t want to tell her sister-in-law about what had been on her mind the entire journey. “We should be arriving at Wyndam Castle soon.” At least she hoped so. She was tired of being in the carriage with too much time to think. Eden needed something else to occupy her mind with. “Are you excited for this house party?”
Roslyn wrinkled her nose. “I am, and I’m not at the same time.” She sighed. “I’ve not had much luck so far this season. I’ve danced, but none of the gentlemen want me. At least not as their wife.”
Eden sat up straighter and stared at her. “What do you mean? Has anyone been inappropriate with you?” She’d ensure none of them came near Roslyn again. “Tell me everything.” Her tone was hard as she spoke. She would not tolerate anyone taking advantage of Roslyn.
“No,” Roslyn said, then sighed again. “They haven’t done or said anything to me.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’ve no cause to lie at your feet. It is the ladies that are gossiping about me, and in turn, it is leading to the gentlemen’s ears.”
