Max grinned at his friend. ‘Not at all. I can’t promise to match your impression of La Bellina, though. That truly was impressive, but I don’t expect your mother will be particularly happy with you making pictures of yourselves at the opera. And poor Miss Best here must be wondering what she’s got herself involved with.’
Etta had invited Clarissa Best to join them for the evening, thinking it would be a nice way to thank her for being, well, her oldest Society friend. But though Clarissa blushed and demurred, she wasn’t fooling anyone.
‘Oh, Clarissa, I really am sorry,’ said Etta. ‘Your mother will be so angry.’
‘Please, Etta, don’t be worried,’ she said gamely, though her smile didn’t meet her eyes. ‘It’s truly the most fun I’ve had in months.’
Etta vowed to be better behaved as Max took the seat next to her, his strong hands resting briefly on the back of her chair as he sat. No gloves today, she thought. She was acutely aware of his closeness as the performance resumed and suddenly felt lost for words. Max, too, was quiet. As thenext aria began, she noticed him almost unconsciously lean slightly towards her in his seat.
She felt his gaze on her as she concentrated on the singers, and felt an urge to finish what she’d started in the park; to really, truly hold his hand. She didn’t quite know how she found the courage to do it, but looking straight ahead so as not to attract attention – she nearly huffed with laughter at the ludicrousness of it – she removed one opera glove, finger by finger. Then Etta took a deep breath and tentatively moved her fingers ever so slightly, gently brushing his bare knuckles. The electricity jolted through them again; Etta could hear her heartbeat pulse in her ears. He froze for just a moment at her touch, and for that second she thought she’d lost it all, but then he started to trace the lines of her fingers with his.
Etta had never wanted to kiss a man as badly as she wanted to kiss Max in that moment, and now she thought perhaps he wanted to kiss her back. It was thrilling.
Neither of them knew how long they had been sitting there, electricity pulsing through their fingers, when the music ended. Before Etta had even realised the audience had stopped applauding, everyone was getting up and a good-humoured Charlie was sorting out their transport options. She hurriedly dragged on her abandoned glove, immediately missing Max’s touch.
‘Etta, I’m going to head out with Royston, but I’ll escort you and Miss Best home before I come back out. Stanhope, you’ll join us in the Goose and Swan, won’t you?’
‘Not tonight, Charlie. I’ve got a meeting with my solicitor tomorrow morning. Why don’t I escort your sister and Miss Best home?’
‘I say, that’s terribly generous. You don’t mind, do you, Hetty? Etta, I mean.’
Etta looked over at Max, a small smile playing on her face, and agreed to the plan. The short carriage ride was quiet at first, until they’d dropped off Miss Best. Max handed her down from the carriage and to her door, then returned to the carriage just as Etta’s exhausted friend realised she was leaving them alone.
They both knew he should have seated himself opposite Etta, but she could see the exact moment he gave in to temptation and went to sit next to her instead. The carriage jolted as it started moving, and the sudden movement made him sit nearly on top of her. She put her hands up to steady him as he flopped inelegantly onto the seat, and they grasped one another.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. Her hands lay still in his, and he pulled them to his lap unconsciously.
Etta bit her lip. She racked her brains, trying to think of something to say, but ended up staring into his eyes. It felt as though they were drawn together with every movement of the carriage; his face was now only inches from hers.
She knew a perfect Society Miss would pull away, but Etta had no such scruples. She bridged the distance between them suddenly, almost impulsively, and kissed him.
Every nerve ending lit up as Etta went straight for a deep, open-mouthed kiss, running her hands under Max’s jacket and across his hard, warm chest.
It was clear Max was stunned by Etta’s forwardness. He withdrew, hands still around her waist where he had unconsciously pulled her to him.
‘So, in 2023 it will be quite ordinary for young women to kiss men in carriages, I daresay?’
Etta smiled. ‘Not carriages, but apart from that you’ve got it spot on.’
‘Remind me to ask you where people kiss in the future, if not carriages.’
‘Hmm. Maybe we could try a few different places to kiss in 1817, just so I can remind myself.’
This time it was he who kissed her and Etta began to lift her skirts to straddle his lap.
The movement seemed to shock him awake. ‘Hang on, Etta, Miss Bainbridge,’ he said rather breathlessly. ‘This isn’t right. We’ll be at your house any moment.’
Etta sighed and sank back into her seat. He was correct – the carriage stopped outside her house within seconds, just as he seemed to make the terrible realisation that he was in no fit state to see her to her door.
Etta looked at his lap and grinned. She leaned over for one last kiss and decided to go hell for leather. Her hand brushed his groin as she went to readjust her crumpled skirts.
‘Your groom can see me to my door. Let’s finish this another time.’
Etta took one last look at him, delightfully ruffled and disconcerted in his carriage; Max was both speechless and very obviously turned on. She beamed as a footman led her up the steps to her house. Hopefully that would give him something to think about for a while. She knew she’d be able to think of little else.
Chapter 27
1817
