Just then, Polly came whirling into the foyer in a flurry of blush silk and rhinestones and pulled Sarah aside. “Cora says you’re up as dealer. I’m losing terribly and could use your luck.”
“Now how can I resist a plea like that?” Sarah linked arms with Polly and gave Eliza a knowing look. “Do come talk to me in a bit, darling. I hear we’ve a bit of catching up to do.”
“She fancies you,” Malcolm whispered after she’d gone.
“What?” Eliza asked.
“Sarah. She’s an invert, dearest. She prefers women. We often chased the same girls in our youth. She was much more successful than I.”
“Really?” Eliza giggled, thinking of all her stolen kisses with Giselle so many years ago. Kisses that had eventually landed on collarbones and bosoms and could have easily become something more. At times, she still ached for the easy companionship she’d enjoyed with Giselle. She could understand Sarah preferring the same and admired her boldness. “How incredible. Yet she’s married?”
“Yes, well. Her husband is just the same. His summer fishing trips to Bath are a ruse. He goes there to meet his male lovers.”
“My goodness. What other secrets are you keeping?”
Malcolm’s lips curved in a wry grin. “Tons.”
As they moved into the drawing room, a string quartet began tuning up by the hearth. Lydia came to her side, resplendent in scarlet satin. “You look like you’re up to something,” she whispered. “If you’re truly wanting to keep your secret, quit smirking like a cat in the cream. I can always tell when you’re thinking naughty things.”
“Perhaps,” Eliza rasped. “But it’s so fun. Besides, I think Sarah already knows.”
“I’m not at all surprised.”
Clarence Fawcett came forward wearing cleverly patched evening dress, his hair slicked with pomade. He made a crisp bow to Malcolm and took Eliza’s gloved hand in greeting, then whisked Lydia into a rollicking mazurka. Several familiar faces were among the people gathered around the dance floor. Eliza was most relieved to see that neither Eastleigh nor Una Moseley was among the guests.
After they’d had champagne and made polite conversation, Malcolm and Eliza joined the other dancers for a breathless waltz. When the song ended, he guided her from the room as the guests looked on, whispering behind raised fans. They went down the hall and through a doorway hung with lavish fringed curtains. In the secluded alcove beyond, a tufted chaise sloped against the wall, a portrait of a naked nymph above it.
“Did you see their faces?” Eliza giggled. “We’re beyond scandalous.”
“It’s quite fun, isn’t it?” Malcolm pulled her onto the low couch, stifling her laughter with his hand. He lifted her wrist and parted the fabric between her glove buttons, then brought the keyhole of bared flesh to his mouth, flicking her skin with the point of his tongue. A lascivious heat spread from the junction of Eliza’s thighs to her belly. “I wonder how much we could get away with, hidden here,” he said. His fingertips teased her through the fabric of her dress, the heat from his breath warming the skin on her neck.
“Yes,” she murmured, arching her back. God, how he made her weak. Wanton. She ached to have him touch her. His mouth sought hers in the darkness as she guided his hand beneath her petticoats.
“Liza! Come out here.”
Merde. It was Lydia. Through heavy-lidded eyes, Eliza could see her flickering silhouette against the wall outside the opening of the curtains.Malcolm withdrew his hand, a sigh of frustration hissing through his lips. “Your sister has impeccable timing.”
“Stay here. I’ll see what she wants,” Eliza rasped. She stood, smoothing out her skirts. She pressed a hand against her cheeks to cool them and walked out into the drawing room.
“What were you doing?” Lydia gave an appraising look to Eliza’s flushed cheeks and bosom. “All saints. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Eastleigh is here, in the rear gardens with Polly. She’s trying to calm him, but he knows y’all are here and he’s none too happy.”
Eliza felt Malcolm’s presence behind her. “Miss Tourant, would you care to show me out so I may address the earl? His quarrel is with me.”
Eliza shook her head. Panic twisted in her gut. “Malcolm, don’t. Please.”
“Darling, I’m sure his mood can be lightened after a snifter of whisky and a hand of cards. Eastleigh isn’t the sort to make a public row.” Malcolm’s voice was tense as steel. “Miss Tourant, please.”
Lydia flounced down the wide central hallway and led them onto the terrace facing the garden. Polly and Eastleigh stood a few yards away, near a fountain of Neptune shooting arcs of silvery water from his trident. Polly’s face was wet with tears. “Charles! Forget her. She’s made her choice and she wasn’t worthy of your attention to begin with. It’s my father’s fondest wish, and mine, to see us married. He sent his blessing, just this week!”
Eastleigh had his back to them, but Eliza heard every word. “Marryyou?” he slurred. “Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t set my sights higher than a half-witted admiral’s daughter?”
Eliza gripped Lydia’s hand. “Poor Polly,” she whispered. “I’d no idea they were courting.”
“I don’t think they were,” Lydia whispered. “I think she’s a bit delusional.”
