Page 25 of One Waltz with the Viscount

‘Lord Routledge,’ she said, her voice barely audible above the crowd beyond the door.

‘Henry. My name is Henry.’ He longed to hear his name on her lips. Hardly anyone ever used his given name, and he craved the intimacy that came with such familiarity.

She hesitated, then whispered his name. ‘Henry.’

The sound of it lit something inside him and he moved forward, increasing the contact between them. He could feel her soft body underneath his, and felt her rise up to meet him. Before he could stop himself he bent down and brushed a kiss against her lips, testing her response. When she let out a little moan of satisfaction—opening her lips ever so slightly to meet him—he surged forward, one arm around her waist, pulling her to him and deepening the kiss.

For a moment it was frenzied, uncontrolled, and Henry’s free hand tangled in Miss Shepherd’s hair, then slid down her back, cupping her buttocks. She kissed him harder and he wished there was a little light so he could see the desire he knew would be reflected in her eyes.

He wanted to abandon himself to this moment, to do exactly what he wanted and not think about the consequences, and Miss Shepherd was warm and willing in his arms.

There was a sudden swell of noise from outside the door and they both froze, jolted back to a reality neither of them wanted to face. Henry stood—one hand on Miss Shepherd’s lower back, one behind her head, holding his breath—wondering if the door was going to open and expose them to the world. The was a click and a sliver of light shone through, illuminating a small slice of them, and then inexplicably the door closed again without anyone coming in.

With great effort Henry disentangled himself from Miss Shepherd and took a step back, feeling for the wall behind him. His pulse was still racing, the desire still flooding through him, and he knew if he touched Miss Shepherd again, he would be lost.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Outside they heard the sound of people moving around, going back to their seats as the interval came to an end.

‘I apologise—’ he began, once it was quiet beyond the door.

‘No.’ Miss Shepherd cut him off, her tone curt. She took a shuddering breath in. ‘I cannot go back to the box like this. My hair is a mess and I cannot fix it in the dark.’

‘We can leave. Once everyone is seated no one will notice us slipping out of the opera house.’

‘Your friends will notice you are gone, and your father.’

It was not ideal, but unavoidable.

‘It does not matter,’ he said, hating the note of panic in Miss Shepherd’s voice. He had taken advantage of her and he hated that he’d allowed himself to be ruled by his baser instincts. Miss Shepherd had not been unwilling, she had kissed him back fervently, but that did not excuse him pinning her to the wall in the first place.

‘You stay. I can make my way to my lodgings on my own. I am sure you can think of an excuse to tell your friends.’

‘I am not letting you leave by yourself.’

‘Do not be a fool, Lord Routledge. One moment of weakness does not need to ruin both our lives.’

He paused before speaking, conscious that they needed to make a decision—they could be discovered at any moment.

‘It will not. I will escort you to your lodgings and tomorrow I will make my apologies to the Shrewsburys. They already think I am acting strangely, one more instance will not matter.’

She started to speak again but he reached out, feeling for her hand in the darkness.

‘Either you accept my escort home, or I follow you five paces behind. I know which option will look more conspicuous.’

Miss Shepherd hesitated and then exhaled loudly. ‘Fine. You may walk me to my lodgings.’

Sarah was shaking as they peered out through a crack between the door and the frame, checking to see if any of the opera patrons were still in the corridor. Once they could be sure it was deserted, Lord Routledge opened the door and slipped out, offering her his arm as she followed.

It was petty, but Sarah pretended she had not seen the offer. She could not touch him right now. The kiss had taken her by surprise, but as soon as his lips had touched hers it had felt as though she was finally complete after a lifetime of missing something essential. She would have given herself to him entirely in that dark and dirty corridor if they had not been interrupted, and the realisation had shaken her. She’d always thought of herself as someone with good morals and a high standard of virtue. It was disconcerting to know a little attention from an attractive man had her abandoning all her values.

This is what happened to Mama.

It was an unwelcome thought, but once it had popped into her head she found she could not get rid of it. She refused to let history repeat itself. Her mother had most likely been fooled by a rich man’s sweet words—promises that he would look after her—only to be abandoned when he grew bored. Sarah would not make the same mistake. Her future lay elsewhere, with independence and freedom, not tied to a man who would discard her once it was time to get married.

She caught sight of her reflection in one of the gilded mirrors that lined the staircase as she hurried down, and had to stifle a gasp of surprise. She looked dishevelled with her hair falling around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with colour. If anyone saw her they would be able to tell immediately she had been doing something she shouldn’t.

Thankfully, apart from a few stares from the staff at the front of the opera house, they escaped without anyone else taking any notice.

Once outside she took in some deep breaths of air. All she wanted to do was gather her skirts in her bunched fists and run. She wanted to get far away from Lord Routledge and his seductive eyes and all the rest of the ladies and gentlemen of high society, who could ruin her if they found out what she had been doing. No doubt the Huntleys in Kent would not employ a music teacher if they were aware she had loose morals. Scandalous gossip travelled far and wide, so there was no hope of keeping something like this a secret if anyone spotted them.