But Catherine was jealous, and she did not want Edward to be a moth drawn to the flame that was Miss Wingfield’s radiant, sunny personality. The sight of the two of them dancing together, conversing as if they were sharing the most intimate of secrets, was almost more than Catherine could bear. She honestly did not think the night could get any worse, but then it did.
When the dance Edward and Miss Wingfield had shared was over, he offered her his arm and that broad, charming smile that Catherine desperately wanted him to save only for her.
“Would you care to step out onto the terrace for some fresh air, Miss Wingfield?”
Say no. Please say no.
Catherine silently pleaded with her friend, praying that Eliza would somehow sense the silent outcry of her heart. Instead, Eliza offered him one of those infuriatingly amiable smiles of hers, took Edward’s arm, and allowed him to lead her out onto the terrace.
Catherine’s heart clenched with terror. She could not let them out of her sight. She must think of some way to join them on the terrace without looking like a fool, and she would have to think quickly. She flicked her fan open and fanned herself frantically with one hand, while pressing the back of her other hand to her forehead, as if she might swoon at any moment.
“You look overheated, Catherine.” Her mother remarked, and Catherine nodded.
“It is quite warm in here. I feel faint.”
“Well, I would much rather you go and get some fresh air than risk swooning and hitting your head.” Her mother’s voice held a fragile edge. “One terrible head injury in the family at a time is more than enough, thank you.”
Catherine nodded and darted out through the terrace doors as fast as her feet would carry her, stifling a yelp when a strong, familiar hand gripped her bicep and pulled her down the stairs to the garden, and off into the shadows. Eliza hovered between where they stood, and the terrace door, keeping watch over Catherine and the door at the same time.
“What is going on here?” Catherine hissed, still trapped in the throes of jealousy until Edward’s lips crashed down on hers in a passionate kiss.
He pulled her to him, holding her as if he would never let her go, and kissed her until she knew nothing but the feel of his lips on hers and his arms holding her, and suddenly everything felt perfect in Lady Catherine Stewart’s world for the first time in her life, even if only for that moment.
Clutching the lapels of his jacket, she kissed him back, lost in the bliss of the moment, forgetting even that Miss Wingfield was standing on the terrace.
CHAPTER8
SeeingLord Edward and Lady Catherine’s kiss, the way it consumed them and seemed to make the whole world melt away around them, made Eliza feel flushed. Her mind drifted to thoughts of the Duke of Elkington, and how it had felt to be held in his arms after he’d saved her life. She desperately wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss His Grace the way Lady Catherine was kissing Lord Edward.
As if simply thinking of him had somehow summoned him, Eliza heard the Duke’s voice carry out through the open terrace doors.
“I will go outside and check to make sure she is feeling well.”
“Oh no!” Eliza gasped, moving quickly to make sure she put herself in the Duke of Elkington’s path. Perhaps she could stall him long enough to give Lady Catherine and Lord Edward time to go their separate ways and not get caught in such a scandalous position.
“Oh! You startled me, Your Grace!”
Eliza pressed her hand to her chest, and fanned herself, speaking quite a bit more loudly and dramatically than was really necessary, but she wanted to give Lady Catherine plenty of warning that her brother had joined them in the garden.
Eliza noted out of the corner of her eye that Catherine and Edward had jumped apart and that Edward had disappeared beyond a hedge while Catherine scrambled to join Eliza on the terrace as Raphe stepped out through the French doors. He instantly strode over to the two of them, his brow furrowed fiercely as he looked Catherine over from head to toe.
“Mama said you felt unwell, as if you might swoon. Are you all right?”
Catherine fanned herself furiously but nodded.
“It was just far too warm in the ballroom. I needed fresh air, that’s all.”
The Duke’s gaze moved to Eliza, then, and her heart stuttered as he looked her over from head to toe.
“I thought I saw Lord Edward Melthorn accompany you out here. I hope he did not abandon you, Miss Wingfield?”
“I paused to check on your sister, and I believe Lord Edward went to find her a glass of water. I asked him to.”
The lie tasted bitter on Eliza’s tongue and soured her stomach, making it cramp. She could not stand the thought of the Duke of Elkington realising that she was hiding things from him, things that could affect who his sister married and how soon. It felt uncomfortable, and Eliza’s stomach squirmed in response. Her palms turned clammy, too.
* * *
Miss Eliza Wingfieldlooked as if she felt as poorly as his sister had claimed to before she’d bolted out onto the terrace. Her lips were turned down at the corners, and there was a tightness around her eyes. The urge to move closer, to smooth away the crease between her brows with his thumb, was so overwhelming that he had to fist his hands at his sides to keep himself from doing something inappropriate.
