Blinking, she watched as he headed through the open doors to the torch-lit garden.As he passed Lady Burfield, one of her sisters turned her gaze to him, though she quickly turned back to the conversation.
Eleanor raised a shaking hand to her heart.That had been all manner of awful.She’d had no clue how to talk with him, and he had offered no hints.She had blathered on about nothing, embarrassing herself horribly.
Across the room, Benedict laughed at something the gaggle around him had said and then spied her looking.Gaze meeting hers, he raised a brow, his smile now for her.The churning inside her calmed.Giving a small shrug, she crossed her eyes.The corner of his mouth ticked up, his blue eyes warming.
It was so easy with Benedict.She had never conversed easily with strangers, and when suitors had sought her company, she’d tripped over her own tongue more often than not.As her suitors had dwindled, her ability to converse had grown, and now sometimes she could speak easily with people she did not know.It was how she had become friends with Victoria, and she had thought she could also employ such with the Earl of Malvern.It appeared, though, she had been incorrect with that assumption.
She stared at the doors leading to the garden.Perhaps she should try again.Perhaps she should follow him and, in darkness, perhaps she would know what to say, would know how to charm him.Perhaps she might even persuade him to kiss her.
Everything in her recoiled at the thought.
Setting her jaw, she started after the earl.She had set this course, she would damn well follow it.She had determined the earl would be her lover and she would see it through to the end.That it might now not be what she truly wanted… Well, she would rather know than regret for all time the opportunity missed.
Muttering under her breath, Eleanor turned from yet another dead end.She’d seen Lord Malvern enter this maze and so had followed, only to lose sight of him immediately.
A branch scraped the exposed skin of her upper arm, leaving behind a red mark.She disliked hedge mazes intensely.She had never been able to solve them, and Benedict was forever teasing her about her lack.He, of course, solved them with ease, always seeming to find the key in mere moments.
Torches lined the way, their hosts assuming guests would want to wander the puzzle, though so far Eleanor had encountered no one.Even the earl eluded her.Perhaps he had the same knack as Benedict and had solved the maze in mere moments, and he was even now at its centre.Or perhaps he was like her, hopelessly lost, and perhaps it was something they could bond over, perhaps laugh over, and maybe that would be the key to his attention.
A faint noise carried on the breeze, so muffled she could not tell what it was.Grimly, she continued on.Either she would conquer this maze or she would perish within its walls, lost for all time.
She turned a corner and there it was.The centre.Before she could be grateful to no longer be hopelessly lost, though, she realised it was occupied.Shock held her immobile and she could only stare wide-eyed at the scene before her.
A woman sat on the ledge of a stone grotto set into the maze, her head thrown back and her fingers threading the dark hair of the man knelt before her.His broad shoulders pushed her legs wide, one hand splayed over her chest and his head between her thighs.She could not see either of their faces clearly, but whispered sighs and stifled moans drifted toward her.
Eleanor knew she should look away, should turn and be covered in blushes, and fairly run from such an intimate scene, but instead she could do nothing but stare.That is what Benedict had done to her in the carriage only hours ago.Is that how he had looked?Is that howshehad looked?She swallowed a gasp as remembered pleasure streaked through her.
The woman arched, her body shuddering.The man between her legs wiped his mouth and rose up her body, pressing a kiss to her gown-covered stomach, her chest, beneath her jaw, and then he took her mouth in a passionate kiss.He reached between them and then both of them groaned as he pushed his hips into hers.Hooking her legs under his elbows, he started to thrust.
With the change, Eleanor could now see their faces.The woman was the sister of Lady Burfield, the widowed Viscountess Rocksley, and the man…the man was the Earl of Malvern.She had never imagined the viscountess and the earl knew each other, let alone well enough to be doing…what they were doing.
Gazes locked, the earl and the viscountess were completely focussed on each other.The earl’s thrusts increased, the sighs and moans and grunts becoming louder.The viscountess gasped, and then she convulsed.The earl’s movements fell out of rhythm, becoming rough and wild, short, hard thrusts that jolted the viscountess before he groaned harshly, shuddering in her embrace.
Lady Rocksley and the earl recovered, holding each other tightly.Eleanor told herself to turn, to leave before they discovered her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
Smoothing the earl’s hair from his forehead, the viscountess smiled, her expression full of love and care.Lord Malvern touched his forehead to hers, and though his expression was more restrained, it held no less emotion.Breaking apart, the viscountess adjusted her dress while the earl fastened himself up.Taking a step closer to her lover, Lady Rocksley rubbed her arms.
Lord Malvern frowned.“You are cold.”
Eleanor started.She had not expected to hear his cool voice so clearly.
“A little,” the viscountess replied, her soft voice just as clear.
He started to remove his coat.
“Don’t be silly, James.If you do that, thenyouwill be cold.I have a better idea.”Stepping forward, she unbuttoned his coat and then plastered herself against him, her arms clearly wrapping around his back under his coat.“There.Now we both will be warm.”
Tightening his embrace, Lord Malvern gazed down at her and the look on his face…There was care and awe and disbelief and…love.“We should return.”
“In a minute.”Lady Rocksley laid her cheek on his shoulder.“Do you think we should announce our betrothal tonight?”
Shock battered Eleanor, dropping her jaw.The Earl of Malvern, the notorious, debauched rake, was to marry the viscountess?
Again the earl frowned.“Your father is not here.”
“No, but that should not delay us.I am a widow.I do not require my father’s permission.Do you not wish to marry?”Her tone was light, but the faintest crease of worry touched her brow.
“Do not look so, Elizabeth,” Lord Malvern said intensely.“I wish to marry you.I want to be married to you.I want to be your husband.I want to walk into a room and have all know I am yours.Do noteverdoubt that.”
