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ripeness?” He couldn’t stop himself and reached out with one hand and casually touched her on the nape of the neck. She shook her head.

“Just roll it between your teeth and curve your tongue around the berry. If it’s perfectly ripe, it will bathe your mouth with sweetness.”

She swallowed, which gave him untold satisfaction. “I don’t think you’re talking about berries,” she said, finally. He was caressing her ear, his fingers sliding down her slender neck. Thank goodness Henrietta’s couch was at an angle to the rest of the company, and it looked as if they were all preparing to enter the dining room.

“May I escort you to the table?” he asked. His voice was a little strained, but that was only because this ineligible woman had caused an unsightly bulge in his pantaloons, merely by sitting next to him and allowing him to touch her neck. She gave him her little crooked smile, the one that she gave when her leg hurt.

“There’s something wrong,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Did you injure your hip yesterday?”

“No, of course not.”

Her eyes looked truthful enough. But there was that smile. She obviously had no idea how easy she was to read.

“What is it then?” She started to get up, but he let his hand slide down her back in an utterly inappropriate gesture. He looked around quickly. Everyone else had left the room. Slope had apparently not seen them, tucked away on the couch.

Oh, why not? He leaned forward and just tasted her. Just put his lips on hers. Just a touch.

But the touch . . . well, the touch had her arms around his neck and his hand sliding up her neck. The touch meant that he didn’t hear Esme’s butler Slope until the man loudly cleared his throat just behind the couch. He would have expected Henrietta to pull back as if the fu-202 Eloisa James

ries were behind her, to gallop into the dining room. But she just stared at him, and then raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. And her lips curved in a different sort of smile.

I have to leave tomorrow, Darby thought numbly. I’m over my head.

“Lady Henrietta, Mr. Darby,” Slope was saying. “I fear that the dinner party is awaiting your arrival.” He had an oddly pleased look about him.

Darby rose and held his arm out for Henrietta. Then he thought again and helped her to her feet. Her little blush deepened when he did that.

“Thank you,” she said.

Slope had turned his back and was pacing majestically toward the door.

“Steady,” Darby said, holding back. “Ready to make an entrance?”

She nodded, eyes on his.

An entrance didn’t even cover what ensued. Normally, Darby rather liked being the center of attention. He always thought that the more attention he received, the more time his lace received in the fashion columns. One thing leads to another.

But he had never walked into a dining room and had clinking glasses freeze, and heard a roomful of shrill voices come to an utter standstill.

Slope was obviously enjoying himself as he majestically paced about the table. “Lady Henrietta, if you please,” he said. “Mr. Darby.”

He was seated next to her. Darby sat down and realized that he was in a frenzy of sexual attention such as he hadn’t suffered through since he was a schoolboy and fell in love with the third housemaid, Molly. Then he would lurk in the hallways until he saw her, living for the moment when she Fool for Love

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would brush past him with a muttered, “Excuse me, Master Simon.”

It was precisely the same now. He edged his chair over to Henrietta’s so slowly that no one could see him. By the time the first course was served, he’d managed to put a leg against hers. When she turned startled eyes on him, he moved his leg, but a moment later he touched her arm with his. And that flush—that flush on her cheekbones deepened. Oh, she felt it too. I’m leaving tomorrow, Darby thought recklessly. Leaving tomorrow, and I won’t come back. She was smiling again. Smiling with her eyes. Smiling with a promise. Every glance to his left told him that he wasn’t wrong when he thought Henrietta was exquisite. Henrietta’s lips curved in a smile that might—just might—be sarcastic. But that faint curve on rosy lips had heat pounding in his groin in a way that another woman’s licking smile could not.

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The Pleasure of Good Deeds

Mrs. Cable was delighted to find that Lady Rawlings had seated her next to Rees Holland, Earl Godwin. He was likely the most scandalous earl in the entire aristocracy, which meant that she could dine out on this encounter for years. Not to mention the fact that she might be able to help the poor man into a better understanding of the errors of his ways. She waited until the soup course had been served before she addressed the subject. “Lord Godwin, it is a pleasure to see you and your dear wife at the same event,” she said, conscious of her own rashness. But after all, if one is to take the Lord’s work seriously, one must work boldly. Not like the vicar, Mr. Fetcham, who was talking to Lady Holkham as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Even though he was positively surrounded by sinners.

Rees Holland turned and looked at her for the first time. So far, he had been rather annoyingly ignoring her presence. He had shocking black eyes, the earl did. No wonder everyone called him degenerate. He looked it, with those fierce eyebrows. “Should I say the same to you, Mrs.—Mrs.—”