The flush on Armstrong’s face deepened, indicating the topic touched a nerve. He took the drink offered by a woman in a revealing gown with a distracted nod.
“I have no time for your ribbing, Radbourne. My sister was in a carriage accident, which still has me rattled, and Madam Rebecca is annoying me by insisting I cannot ask for the same lady each time I visit. I believe she is trying—”
An emotion James couldn’t quite identify twisted through his gut. “What did you say, Brandon?”
He was momentarily confused by James’s intensity. “Madam Rebecca says—”
“About the carriage accident,” James interrupted sharply. His heart felt like it would pound outside of his chest.
Brandon paused, the levity draining from his expression as he registered the seriousness in James’s tone. He hesitated, then spoke with more caution, “My aunt’s carriage was involved in an accident a couple of days ago. My sister was the only person aboard.”
“Was she hurt?” James pressed, his tone sharp, each word clipped with concern that he could not be bothered to disguise.
“I ... what is happening?” Brandon was visibly shaken by James’s reaction.
“Was she hurt?” James demanded again, his patience wearing thin.
“She had a small bruise on her shoulder and complained of some pain there,” Brandon responded. “The physician was called, and he gave a good report, thankfully.”
Without another word, James was on his feet. He moved swiftly, cutting through the crowd of guests dressed in the opulent finery of an ancient Egyptian-themed event.
He barely noticed the surprised looks from those he brushed past, his concentration entirely on getting out of the pleasure palace and finding out more about Elizabeth’s injury. The idea of Elizabeth hurt, even slightly, was enough to set his world off its axis, exposing the depth of his feelings for her even if he wanted to bloody hide from them. As he pushed through the doors, the cool night air hit him, and he took a steady breath.
James rattled off instructions to his coachman and went into his carriage. They moved with an urgent but careful pace through familiar streets. The carriage stopped, and he dismounted, nodding to his coachman, who had stopped a few houses down.
James stealthily moved toward the side gate leading to the back gardens.
The moon provided scant illumination, casting long shadows that helped conceal his movements. He remembered her once mentioning that her room was on the second floor, conveniently away from her aunt and mother’s rooms on the third floor. James selected a few small pebbles from the ground, their rough edges cool and solid in his palm, and tossed them gently against a window. He waited, hoping for a sign of response. The first window remained dark and silent, as did the second. A twinge of frustration nudged him as he aimed at the third window, a bit more forcefully this time.
That window finally shoved open, and Elizabeth’s head appeared, her hair loose, cascading around her shoulders as she peered down into the darkness. James’s heart leaped at the sight of her, an unknown feeling momentarily flooding through him. Keeping to the shadows, he watched as she scanned the garden below, her expression a mix of confusion and concern.
Elizabeth withdrew, closing the window softly. Seizing the moment, James approached the wall beneath her window where a climbing trellis, laden with ivy, offered a precarious but viable path upwards. He began to climb, the old wood creaking under his weight, his hands finding holds among the thick vines.
Reaching the small balcony, he hoisted himself over the railing with a quiet grunt. The balcony window was not latched, and he pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit room. His sudden appearance elicited a startled scream from Elizabeth, followed by a sharp gasp.
“James! Have you taken leave of your senses?” she said, her voice a mix of shock and relief as she recognized him.
Then in the very next breath she hurtled forward, laughed, and jumped into his arms, hooking her legs around his hips, all but climbing his body. Her unbound hair rippled in glorious waves down her back. A few wisps enchantingly framed her face. Elizabeth twined her hands around his neck. The feel of her fingers against his nape sent a spark of want through his entire body. He closed his arms around her back, aware of his pounding heart.
“You scoundrel,” she murmured, then lightly laughed. “I am astonished you snuck into my bedchamber. What if you were caught?”
“I have many experiences sneaking—”
She pinched his side, seemingly with all her strength.
“What villainy is this?” he muttered.
“It’s a pinch,” she groused. “How dare you mention stealing into other women’s bedchambers before me.”
James grinned. “My apologies.”
A softening touched her eyes, and though a faint smile played on her lips, it was tinged with exasperation.
“I had to see you to make sure you were well,” he said. “Brandon mentioned the accident.”
“You could have called on me tomorrow; my aunt would have been delighted,” she teased lightly, though her voice quivered with emotion.
“But where’s the adventure in that?” he replied, pressing his mouth to her forehead.
