Page 1 of An Accidental Elopement

Prologue

London, May 1831

Cecilia Gaywood could not help but giggle as she exited the crowded ballroom into the warm and sweet-scented spring night. He had asked her to meet him at the pavilion at midnight and she had finally managed to slip away from her parents only ten minutes past.

Her blood was rushing in her veins. It felt like it was bubbling in a way she believed it would if her mother would permit her to drink champagne and not the tepid lemonade that was usually served to debutantes.

She was careful to avoid the main paths of the garden and stick to the smaller and poorer-lit ones, treading carefully so that her thin silk slippers would not make a sound on the gravel. She was quite certain that no one had followed her, yet she could not help but look over her shoulder. Then giggle again because of course no one was there. She knew she sounded like a schoolgirl of thirteen and not a young woman of twenty years who was more than ready to marry.

Mark Walfingham's large frame was visible in the Chinese-styled pavilion at the back of the garden. Cecilia felt her heart drumming in her chest and a fuzzy warm feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. Tonight, was the night that he would propose, she was certain of it.

They had been flirting all season and sending each other long looks across ballrooms. When they danced, she could feel his hand on her back slide just a tad lower than what was appropriate. When he was certain no one would notice, he would even squeeze her. They had met twice in secret before under similar circumstances. Both times their kisses had become heated quickly and his hands had been everywhere. Cecilia blushed at how she had pressed her bosom wantonly into his hands, yet it had felt so pleasant.

He was the fourth son of the second son of Viscount Walfingham. Meaning that he would never hold a title. Cecilia had known that it would be one of her mother’s arguments against him; as Cecilia was the granddaughter of a baronet, and her mother was the daughter of a baron, her mother felt certain that Cecilia would be able to secure a man with a title. Cecilia prayed that once her mother saw how infatuated Mark Walfingham was with her, she would approve of the marriage regardless.

It was not as if she was as careless as her Aunt Elizabeth who had fallen in love with one of her father’s grooms and ended up eloping with him. Her maternal grandfather had cut Aunt Elizabeth off, but Cecilia knew that her mother still received letters from her and sent her money from time to time. The arrival of which was always followed by a sigh and: “Heavens, Elizabeth have has yet another baby.”

She took a deep breath, pushing Aunt Elizabeth and her misfortunes from her mind, and tried to school her features as she stepped closer to the pavilion, and he turned in her direction. She could not make out his facial expression, not make out anything except his large dark form. Her heart thudded in her ears, so loudly that she became nervous that she might not hear him if he spoke.

If he said anything that she needed to respond to he did not show it. Instead, he reached for her hand and tucked her towards him.

“Finally,” he murmured when he wrapped her completely in his arms.

Good, Cecilia thought. At least there was nothing wrong with her hearing, although her heart was still beating so fiercely it felt like it planned to leave her chest.

He did not say anymore but simply lowered his head to hers, his mouth finding hers in a crushing kiss. A swarm of butterflies was released in Cecilia’s stomach at the first touch of his lips, intoxicating her completely as they always did. Cecilia tried to repress the thought of how many others Mark had kissed to become this skilled.

He bit her lip, which made her gasp, and took advantage of her open mouth to let his tongue slide against hers. Cecilia was still coming to terms with this aspect of kissing; it seemed strange since she had always assumed that you kissed with just your lips. She could not deny however that it made a warmth spread in her lower belly that was at once pleasant and made her yearn at the same time. She let her tongue meet his, trying to keep up with his pace.

“You are such a saucy little minx underneath your proper exterior.” He grinned against her skin as he kissed a path down her cheek to her neck.

He had done this before and, in some ways, it was more pleasant than being kissed on the mouth, since she did not have to think about kissing him as well. Cecilia craned her head to give him better access while trying to process his words. Her body reacted so strongly to him that she was certain it could only be love she felt for him.

Though his words were hardly those of an enamored man. Quite the opposite in fact.

She had known all through the season, even before she had caught his interest this April, that he had a certain reputation with women. He was dashingly handsome with his dark brown hair and smoldering green eyes, so of course why would he not? That was part of what attracted her to him as well. But the women he had been with previously were actresses and opera singers, not respectable young misses like herself.

His hands were tugging at the edge of her bodice and his mouth quickly followed in their wake and made her stump out of her reverie.

“Wait, Mark... Mr. Walfingham, wait,” she pleaded and gently pushed his shoulders.

“What?” he growled as he straightened. She could tell that he was looking down at her, but in the darkness, she could not see his facial expression. The annoyance in his voice had been evident though.

Cecilia tucked her bodice back into place before she spoke.

“I thought we could talk for a bit,” she breathed, praying she had not ruined anything between them.

Mark Walfingham hmphed, shifting on his feet. He had not exactly come closer, but somehow it felt as if he had, nevertheless.

“Talk? If I want to talk, I drink tea with my mother.”

“I thought that we could become better acquainted,” Cecilia murmured and thought her impulse to look down.

“I do want to become better acquainted with you,” Mark Walfingham told her in a crude tone that left nothing to Cecilia’s imagination as to how he would like to become better acquainted with her.

She took a step back.

“But I thought you wanted to marry me,” she blurted.