Page 61 of A Taste of Miss Honey

Chapter 19

Anything to Declare?

The Card Room, The Duchess of Whitney’s Ball, London, 24th March 1816

Izzy made no protest as Ben placed her hand possessively upon his arm and led her from the room. The scandal was moving at breakneck speed, an almost tangible ripple of shock making its way through the crowd.

“This way,” Ben urged, guiding her away from the ballroom, slipping away from the main rooms as he led her through the darkened rooms. Guests were clearly not allowed in this part of the house, but any footmen stationed to enforce this rule had disappeared to discover what was happening elsewhere.

Izzy didn’t bother asking him where they were going. She really didn’t care. So long as they were away from the curious gazes and gossip, and far away from Alveston and everything he stood for, it hardly mattered. All that mattered was that Ben was safe.

Opening a door onto what appeared to be a small parlour, Ben checked it was unoccupied. Satisfied, he pushed her inside and closed the door behind him. “You wonderful, wicked, astonishing girl!” he exclaimed, gazing at her and shaking his head.

Izzy grinned at him, not above preening a little. “I believe what you mean to say is, thank you, Izzy, for helping me uncover Lord Alveston, and prove to the world what a despicable human being he really is, whilst saving Boreas from the gallows and proving Mr Midwinter to be a hero to Britain.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m waiting.”

He gave a bark of laughter and reached for her, hauling her into his arms. “Thank you, Izzy, you dreadful creature. Where the devil did you learn to play cards like that, and how did you come up with such a brilliant plan?”

Izzy shrugged, deciding he did not need to know that it hadn’t precisely been a plan as such, more serendipity. “That’s a long story, and if I’d told you what I had in mind, you would have told me to leave Alveston alone, because I’m too silly and frivolous to be a help to you.”

“Oh, no. I can’t have that,” he objected, tightening his hold on her. “I never said silly nor frivolous, but I’m afraid you just have to accept that a fellow does not act with the clearest of motivations when the girl he’s head over ears for puts herself in danger.”

“Not clearly at all, considering—” Izzy broke off, mentally replaying what he’d just said. “Did—? Did you just say—?”

“Head over ears. Yes, I did.”

“Oh.”

Izzy stared at him. The room was dark, the furniture only lumpy shapes lit here and then by moonlight that slanted through a gap in the curtains. Ben was little more than a silhouette too, and then he stepped closer, his face appeared cast in silver as the moon illuminated his handsome features, his fair hair glinting white, like some mythical creature come to steal her away to a far-off land.

“Feel better, do you?” he asked, sounding amused, his voice husky.

“A bit.”

“Only a bit?” He tsked, lowering his head and nuzzling the tender place beneath her ear “I must do better.”

Izzy put up her chin. “Yes, I rather think you m-must. I mean, really. That’s twice I’ve saved your skin and—”

Whatever she might have said next was lost as he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her. Izzy sighed, every thought gone in an instant. Alveston, the card game, the ball—all of it slid from her mind like melted butter, leaving nothing but the feel of his mouth upon hers, the strength of his arms as they held her tight.

“Izzy, Izzy, you are the most magnificent, wonderful, dreadful girl I’ve ever met,” he whispered, nipping at her ear. Izzy pressed closer, gasping as his hand slid up to cup her breast. “I ought to have had my wicked way with you that night in the attic, I ought to have ensured you knew you belonged with me. I knew it then, even if you didn’t.”

Izzy huffed and pushed at his chest, glaring up at him. “You rotten liar. You knew nothing of the sort.”

He grinned at her, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Ah, my sweet, you’re not the only one who can play his cards close to his chest. But I was in no position to court you, was I? What could I have offered you but a life of danger and uncertainty?”

“I would have taken it, and gladly,” she told him, reaching up and putting her palm against his cheek. “I would have done anything for you. I still would.”

He stilled, covering her hand with his own, holding it against his cheek. “You would?”

She stared at him, shaking her head in wonder. “Don’t you understand, you foolish man? I love you.”

He let out a breath of laughter, turning his head to press his lips against her palm. “Only you, Isabelle Honeywell, could fall in love with a smuggler.”

“And a spy,” she pointed out.

“Just so,” he whispered, gazing at her. “You know saved more than my life that night, you saved me. You gave me something to live for, to dream of, and hope for. But I never believed I would see that dream come true.”

She wished she could see him better, that the moon would shine brighter so that she could see his face, see the look in his eyes. But then he spoke, and the dim light seemed entirely perfect, cocooning them and keeping them safe from prying eyes.