Page 91 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Before Alice could protest any further, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the steps into the shadows of one of the alcoves set below the terrace. They were completely hidden here, out of view from anyone on the terrace above or the ballroom beyond. Someone would have to come all the way down the stairs for them to be seen.

‘We’ll wait here for a moment and then make a run for it across the lawn,’ Lord Westcroft said. His expression was serious, but Alice had a suspicion that he was enjoying himself. They stood quietly for a few minutes, Alice’s hand tucked into Lord Westcroft’s, and then he nodded to her, and together they set off across the lawn. All the time they were running, Alice felt exposed and was certain there would be a shout from the terrace, perhaps the pattering of feet as people descended the steps into the garden to identify them. Only once they were secreted behind a hedge did she allow herself to breathe normally.

She glanced back towards the house and was relieved to see no one was paying any particular attention to the garden. Hopefully they had made it across unnoticed. Lord Westcroft was also looking back, but after a moment his eyes lowered to meet hers.

Alice felt a spark of attraction between them. She knew much of it was from the excitement of the last few minutes, but she had the irrepressible urge to reach up and trail her fingers over Lord Westcroft’s face. She was horrified to find her hand halfway up to his cheek and felt a wave of mortification as he caught it in his own.

‘We should get you home, Miss James,’ he murmured, holding onto her hand and making no move to leave.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his.

Alice was never normally reckless. Never before tonight had she sneaked into anyplace she shouldn’t be. She obeyed her parents’ rules and conducted herself in a manner that was expected of an unmarried young woman. Yet she didn’t pull away. She didn’t turn her head or break eye contact.

Despite the worry of the last half an hour it had been a magical evening. For a few hours she had been able to pretend she was someone else, swept away in the glamour and opulence of the masquerade ball. For a time she had been able to forget the impending engagement she was about to be pushed into and dance and laugh as if she were free to do whatever she pleased.

Lord Westcroft’s thumb caressed the back of her hand, and then before she could stop herself, she pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was a momentary brush of her lips against his, but as they came together something primal tightened deep inside her, and she realised she wanted so much more.

‘Miss James,’ he murmured as she pulled away, desire burning bright in his eyes. She thought he might reprimand her. All evening he had been a perfect gentleman, despite the attraction that crackled between them. For a long moment he did nothing, his body so close she could feel the heat of him, and then he gripped her around the waist and kissed her again.

This kiss was deep and passionate and made Alice forget where she was. His lips were soft against hers, and she could taste the sweetness of the punch they had both had. His scent was something entirely different, and she had to fight the urge to bury herself in his neck.

Alice felt her body sink into his, and in that moment all she could think about were his lips on hers. There were no thoughts of consequences, no thoughts of being sensible or respectable. It was just Lord Westcroft and his kiss.

They both stiffened and pulled apart at exactly the same moment. Somewhere to her left, coming from the direction of the house, was a rustling noise. For an instant Alice wondered if it could be an animal, and then the sound came again and she knew for certain it was another person. Whether it was a couple who had slipped into the gardens for some privacy, or one of the servants patrolling to ensure no one was sneaking in after Lady Salisbury’s suspicions had been roused, it didn’t matter. Someone else was there in the gardens, and if they were caught there would be a horrific scandal.

Alice felt a cold shudder run through her. It would be a repeat of what had happened with her sister, only worse. At least Margaret had a gentleman who had been happy to marry her and save her from the scandal. She doubted even vile Cecil would take her if she got caught kissing the earl in the garden whilst attending a party she had not been invited to.

‘I have to go,’ she said, pulling away sharply.

‘Wait,’ Lord Westcroft whispered, catching her hand. ‘It might not be safe.’

‘I have to go,’ she repeated.

This time she wrenched her hand from his and set off at a run across the gardens. She had an advantage, following the route she had crept through with Lydia only a few hours earlier. She weaved around flower beds, squeezed through hedges and pushed herself over fences. At first she fancied she heard footsteps behind her and thought Lord Westcroft was following her, but somewhere after she had squeezed through the second hedge she lost him.

Only once she was on the road that led back to the village did she slow, her chest heaving, to catch her breath. She desperately hoped Lydia had found her way home already and wasn’t trapped somewhere by Lady Salisbury and her suspicions.

Despite the fear of being found out and the frantic dash back through the gardens, Alice could not find it in herself to regret the evening. She had been more reckless than she ever had before, or ever would be again, but for a few hours she had felt alive.

Chapter Four

Simon groaned as he rested his head in his hands, leaning forward onto the desk. He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the pounding. Headaches were part of his daily life now, horrible, pulsating episodes of pain that stopped him whatever he was doing and forced him to seek out the relief of a darkened room. For the last year he had been unable to deny that they were happening more frequently and getting worse.

Today however, his headache was a little different. It was the heavy fog caused by drinking too much alcohol, and it was completely self-inflicted.

There was a knock on the door, and he quickly straightened as his butler entered.

‘The dowager countess is here, my Lord.’

‘Show her in,’ he said, hoping he didn’t look too terrible.

Maria breezed in, stopping to regard him and shake her head like a fussy mother hen. ‘You look terrible, Simon.’

‘You look lovely.’

She tutted at his glib reply and sank down into a chair across from him. ‘I have never seen you drink as much as you did last night.’

After Miss James had fled through the gardens, he had followed her, only to lose her a few minutes later. For someone running in highly impractical satin shoes, she had moved fast. He was unsure if they had been spotted and had returned to the ball half expecting someone to come up and make some lewd remarks. As the evening had worn on without anyone saying anything, his relief had led him to the card room, and he had spent far too long playing cards and drinking whisky, trying to forget how good it had been to lose himself for a few minutes in Miss James’s kiss.