Page 29 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Outside the air was cold and the sky was a deep inky black. There was no moon and no sign of any stars to illuminate the gardens below. The candlelight from the ballroom spilled out onto the terrace, but a few feet from the doors everything was plunged into shadow.

It was quiet on the terrace, with two couples strolling arm in arm along its length, but no one else venturing out of the heat of the ballroom so early in the night.

Closing her eyes, Jane leaned on the stone balustrade, glad of the darkness so no one could see her expression. She was still shaking, still hadn’t recovered from the dance with Mr Stewart. It had started so well, with him distracting her, making her laugh even, and then twirling her until she’d felt as though she were dancing on thin air, floating above the floor of the ballroom. Then he had looked at her with those dark, enticing eyes and invited her to picture him without his clothes on.

Even now Jane got a flush of heat flood through her body as she thought of it.

Do not do this, she ordered herself. It was not a helpful reaction to have to the man who was assisting her. She needed Lady Mountjoy to believe in their fake attachment for one another, not to build it up herself into something that it wasn’t. He is doing you a favour.

Mr Stewart was kind and generous, more so than he liked people to know, but she knew there was no way he would ever be attracted to her.

Even as she shook her head to try and rid herself of the images, another flooded her brain—the picture of Mr Stewart wearing very little, leaning in as if he were about to kiss her.

She spun abruptly, startling a couple that was walking arm in arm along the terrace behind her. Managing a smile she hoped didn’t look too deranged, Jane hurried further away into the darkness at the end of the terrace, breathing a sigh of relief when the cold night air became too much for the other people who had ventured outside. Finally alone, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Soon she would have to return to the ball, to Mr Stewart and his charming smile. She would have to pretend nothing had changed, to laugh, talk and dance as if her whole world hadn’t just shifted under her feet.

Don’t be so dramatic, she told herself. It was a flicker of desire no more. Objectively, anyone would have to admit Mr Stewart was an attractive man. It was not remarkable to feel a pull, a desire, to be close to him. Perhaps it would be stranger if she didn’t feel anything at all.

Knowing she had to return to the ballroom, Jane was about to step out of the shadows at the end of the terrace when the door opened once again, momentarily making the volume of the music flare for a few seconds. It was a young couple with their heads bent together and their voices lowered to breathy whispers.

Not wanting to intrude on an intimate moment, Jane went to step into the light, but before she could move she saw the woman reach up and pull the man into a deep kiss. Jane froze, not knowing what to do for the best. The couple must have thought they’d snatched a rare moment of privacy and surely would be mortified to be caught like this.

For a moment she wondered if they were married, but the furtive way the young woman kept glancing at the door to the ballroom made it obvious they were not. Jane felt paralysed, knowing that every second she remained hidden, the more she would see, the more the couple were compromising themselves, but already feeling it was too late to stroll out of the darkness and announce her presence.

As the couple continued to kiss, Jane spun, wondering if there might be another way. The glasshouse sat at the end of the terrace and there was a door right behind her. Perhaps if it was open there might be another route into the main house and no one need ever know what she had witnessed.

Almost crying with relief as the door shifted, Jane slipped inside, closing it silently behind her. The air was warmer in there and a little humid despite the cool, crisp conditions outside. At first it was hard to see anything, and the darkness seemed all-consuming, but after a few seconds her eyes began to adjust and she could begin to make out the outlines of things. Much of it still looked unfamiliar, but Jane reasoned that was probably because the glasshouse was filled with exotic plants and flowers. Carefully she felt her way through the foliage, trying to be as quiet as she could.

The glass house was massive, three long interconnecting buildings attached to the edge of the main house. There was a sickly sweet smell pervading the air and Jane realised this must have been where all of the flowers for tonight’s ball had been grown.

She had just stumbled her way through the first glasshouse when she heard the unmistakable click of the door opening and closing and then the giggle of the young couple who had been outside.

Jane stiffened, unable to move, surrounded as she was by the leaves of a palm tree. Even the tiniest movement made the fronds rustle and would give away her presence immediately.

Cursing her poor judgement for not stepping out of the shadows as soon as the young couple had ventured outside, she closed her eyes and waited, listening as the couple giggled and crept through the glasshouse. At one point they passed right by her, the young woman in touching distance.

For a moment she thought they might carry on all the way through the glasshouse, perhaps seeking the door Jane had thought to use at the other end, but nothing was going in her favour tonight and they paused a few feet away from her and began to kiss again.

Ever so slowly, Jane started retreating, feeling out each step as she did and barely breathing until she felt the cool glass under her fingers.

Before she could open the door and slip out to freedom, she looked up, surprised to see a figure approaching the glasshouse, relieved beyond words when the familiar features of Mr Stewart came into focus.

‘What...?’ he began, his voice booming through the quiet night air.

Jane grabbed the handle to the door, pulled it open and pressed a hand to his lips.

His lips were soft beneath her fingers and for a moment she was distracted, unable to think of anything but how they would feel trailing across her skin.

‘There’s someone in there,’ she whispered, ‘Well, two people.’

Mr Stewart glanced over her shoulder, his frown deepening. ‘What are you doing in there?’

‘Trying to avoid them.’

‘By joining them?’

‘No,’ Jane said, a little louder. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We need to get back to the ballroom. I’ll explain once we’re in there.’