“John’s here tonight,” she said. He heard the nervousness in her voice.
“And Catherine?”
“No. She stayed at home with Griffon. He has a cold.”
“So, you rode here with your brother alone?”
She nodded.
“Was it difficult not to tell him?” he said, keeping his voice low.
Her body went rigid in his arms. He felt her almost miss a step.
“No. I could never tell him anything like that. But it did feel strange.”
“I am dreading facing him myself.”
They whirled in the dance and she pressed more tightly to him. Her nearness took his breath from his lungs for a moment and he struggled to breathe. Their eyes met.
“Why?”
“We usually tell each other everything.”
“But you wouldn’t tell him this!”
“No,” he conceded. “You know that there is only one way I could ever say anything of the sort to him. And even under those circumstances, I wouldn’t want to allude to anything more than a few stolen kisses.”
She didn’t respond or meet his eye. He knew that he had been right. She didn’t want to say yes to him because she feared he would ask for her hand only out of obligation. How could he make her see that he felt so differently?
“You didn’t answer my question. About Redmond.”
She looked at him now, her eyes blazing. “He agreed.”
“You sly little wanton—you always get what you want, don’t you?” He said the words in her ear and she shivered in his arms.
She looked up at him. And then she grinned. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
The music slowed and Trem knew he had to take his chance. Still speaking into her ear, he said, “When we’re married, I’ll be very glad to have such an accomplished wife. The most beautiful woman in London and seven times more intelligent than myself. What a lucky man I’ll be.”
She looked at him, shock widening her eyes. The dance came to a halt. But she didn’t drop his hand. Before he knew it, she was pulling him through the crowd and towards a set of doors on the other side of the room. He knew they led to a balcony.
As they moved, she spoke, her tone teasing yet heavy with evident desire.
“Only the most beautiful woman in London, my lord? Give me another quarter hour of your company and I’ll have you convinced I’m the most desirable woman in England—and Wales and Scotland, too.”
He laughed. And let out a silent prayer for Lady Worthington’s shrubberies. Let them be ample, he thought, and concealing.
Chapter Thirteen
Henrietta could feel the madness pound in her blood. She had satisfied none of her own scruples in regard to accepting a proposal from Trem. He still had no idea about her illegitimacy and he still very likely did not love her. But the way that he had looked at her during their dance had ignited her recklessness.
She already felt giddy from having secured Mr. Redmond’s agreement to give her and Cassandra the editorship. She couldn’t wait to tell her friend that she had succeeded. It made her feel that, perhaps, other things that she wanted might fall into place.
Furthermore, throughout their dance, Henrietta had felt the hard shape of Trem’s cockstand against her belly. She didn’t know how she would solve the problem of his wanting to marry her—but she was only so able to resist temptation. And she wanted him. Now.
Henrietta pulled him onto the large balcony—really more of a wide terrace—and was delighted to find that Lady Worthington had seen fit to line the space with two long bowers. The pretty view of the gardens was still visible from the doors and the balustrade, but to the right and left of the doors two romantic bowers paralleled one another. The evening was unseasonably cool so no one was taking advantage of Lady Worthington’s impeccable decorating. Perfect.
“Here,” Trem said, tugging her towards the left. In a moment, she found herself pressed up against a profusion of soft leaves. Her back was cushioned by springy boughs. His body bracketed hers, his arms bracing the bower. From the doorway, they were completely concealed. Very much alone and, yet, still very close to the bustle of the ballroom.
