As they entered the hedge maze, the path diverged.
“Which way?” she asked. She would have suggested the path that led to the solution she’d derived on her last visit a decade prior, but she doubted the maze had remained the same all those years. The only reason she’d attended the duke’s country party then was because her mother had earned a rare audience at an event and had all but begged him for an invitation.
He turned left, and she followed, although the lack of any sense of purpose made her nervous. What if they got lost? What if they went in circles all night and she didn’t get to see what kinds of garments the other guests were wearing?
He sped up, pulling her around several turns, until her head spun with all the movement. She was about to beg for a break when he halted.
“I have found what I have been searching for,” he whispered.
She peered around him and gasped.
A man in a dove-gray suit had his arms wrapped around a woman in a peach gown. The man was fully clothed, but one of the woman’s breasts was exposed. The man’s fingers worked on her nipple. From the sounds the woman was making, she was enjoying the attention.
Kitty squeezed her thighs together. The woman’s face was flushed with pleasure and her hands were splayed at her sides,digging into the hedge. Several locks of her long, auburn hair tumbled free and fell onto her bosom. The man clasped the woman’s hips and thrust her against him.
“Should we try that?” Cordon whispered.
Kitty’s whole body flushed with heat. She was about to suggest they find a quiet corner to do as he’d suggested, when the couple moved closer to them, and her heart leaped into her throat.
She squeezed Cordon’s hand. “Is that…?”
“I believe so,” he said, his voice husky.
The front of the “man’s” suit jacket and shirt was unbuttoned, revealing ample cleavage. It was no man, but a woman. More shocking, however, was that Kittyrecognizedthe woman. Her clothing was masculine, and her deep-brown hair was tucked beneath a straw hat, but there was no denying those hazel eyes and the mole below her lip. It was Mrs. Rothwellan, the mother of a shy, young woman Kitty had befriended in her first season. Kitty had spent many long nights giggling with Miss Rothwellan as they’d shared stories about their managing mamas.
Cordon chuckled. “Had I known Mrs. Rothwellan was of a liberal mind, I would have invited her to one of my more discreet events.” He looped his arm through Kitty’s. “Well, that’s unexpected, but items number fifty-seven and thirty-four completed. A couple engaging in amorous congress in a hedge mazeandtwo ladies sharing pleasure.”
Kitty adjusted her mask as he moved on, although her head remained fixed in the couple’s direction until they turned a corner. Several minutes passed before they stopped at a dead end.
“What now?” she asked.
He twined his arms around her neck. “Now we enjoy ourselves.”
That look in his eyes. The way his voice rumbled. The soft brush of fingers along her ear.
She should’ve guessed he had seduction in mind. Not that she would refuse, especially after watching the couple. She felt as if she would explode in a shower of sparks if he didn’t touch her.
He pushed her back until they were tucked against the hedge. Then he loosened the strings of his mask and shifted it up his face. There were red marks on his cheeks from where the mask had dug into his skin, but he had never looked more handsome.
“How…?” she started, before her mouth dried. She licked her lips and tried again. “How do we proceed?”
She was hardly innocent, but she’d never indulged a man beneath the stars.
He grinned. “I thought I would finish what we started at the store.”
She blinked. “Here?”
He stepped closer until he bumped into her dress. The hoop skirt twisted, making it difficult to embrace.
He scowled. “Well, this is unfortunate.”
She bit back a nervous giggle. Again, she had failed to consider the practicalities of how her garments would work in such a scenario.
That was an interesting marketing opportunity—dresses that would accommodate scandalous activities. The problem would be advertising such garments without drawing the ire of society.
“We will have to make do,” he said. He shoved her skirt behind her until he was close enough to capture her mouth. In that moment, any thought of dresses was chased away by the softness of his lips, and the fur from his mask tickling the back of her neck.
Then he was on his knees beneath her skirt. He laid his cheek on her inner thigh and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her inner thigh.
