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“He has many of the same qualities—if one can call them such—as Tavistoke,” her stepmother continued. “He’s handsome of face and manner, dresses with ostentation bordering on the vulgar, and his vices run to the same bent. If a rogue is what she wants, I say let her choose him. At least Ravenwood has not yet managed to bring utter disgrace to his name. Perhaps with Eden as his wife he will be dissuaded from such a course. Such is his father’s hope.”
After a moment, her father spoke. “My daughter is very much like her mother. Just as headstrong and determined to have her way. We both know she has her cap set for Tavistoke. Do you honestly believe you can dissuade her?”
“I do.”
“And what of Ravenwood? How can you be sure he’ll take to Eden?”
“Lord Bracknell’s decision to approach me a second time was due to his son having expressed a keen interest. He would have spoken with you, but you were not present.”
“Tavistoke was on the cusp of asking my permission to court Eden this evening when you interrupted us, you know,” said her Papa. “His interest in Eden is also keen. I doubt it has gone unnoticed.”
“Such will not deter Ravenwood,” her stepmother said smugly. “If anything, having garnered the interest of one to whom he looks as his example will make Eden that much more appealing. Trust me, husband. I know what I’m doing. Eden will come to her senses and make the right choice. Now put out the lamp and come to bed.”
The sound of movement within made Eden shrink into the shadows. Careful not to make any noise, she tiptoed back to her room, seething. How dare Catherine presume to know her heart and mind?
Though she’d never been introduced, she knew all about Ravenwood. The fellow was a right fop who had long ago crossed the line with regards to displaying his plumage. Handsome of face he might be, but his manner was affected and repugnant.
Percy had a penchant for flamboyance, but he was always elegant in both dress and manner. Ravenwood couldn’t hold a candle to him. It was laughable her stepmother even considered the creature a worthy rival.
Learning of Catherine’s plan was a stroke of luck. Forewarned was forearmed. What to do with this knowledge was a matter for serious thought. If she rejected Ravenwood outright, her stepmother would only try something else, and she might not be so lucky as to discover that plan prior to its execution. No, this was a golden opportunity, one she must not waste.
Playing along seemed the best course of action—for now. Let her stepmother think she was succeeding in distracting her from Percy. She wondered if she ought to tell him so he could play along as well. The man had been interrupted in the very act of asking permission to court her, which meant he was indeed serious in his pursuit. But would he mistake her honesty for an attempt to manipulate him into coming up to scratch?
Turning over, she groaned into her pillow. Damn my stepmother for interfering!
For the sake of not muddying the waters any more than they were already, she decided to hold her tongue. After all, Percy already knew she was heavily pursued. Ravenwood would be no different. As long as she continued to encourage Percy privately, one more admirer wouldn’t matter in the least. In the event she sniffed trouble, she’d bring him into her confidence and together they would work to foil her stepmother’s plan. How exactly, she didn’t know, but they would.
Sleep continued to elude her as it had every night since kissing Percy. Moments of quiet often triggered the memory of his arms around her, his body against hers, his mouth stealing her breath and her will to resist. Here, in the darkness where no one could see her, she could close her eyes and relive the blissful experience.
Her stepmother would be fit for Bedlam if she knew he’d taken such liberties. That kiss was her delicious secret. Though it tormented her in ways she’d never thought possible, she reveled in the memory.
Here in the dark, no one would know how she ran her own hands over her body, pretending they were his, retracing the path they’d burned into her flesh. No one would know how the heat again began to build inside her.
Surely it must be a sin to touch herself in this manner? Surely it must be but a step away from hellfire to let her hands roam where his had not, imagining… Yet she let them. She followed the urgings of desire, trailing her naughty fingers down to the unmentionable place, the place her stepmother said was a good woman’s downfall should she let any but her wedded husband touch her there.
Was it wrong to covet Percy’s hands there? It had to be, for the church said the craving of any carnal pleasure was a mortal sin. But would not all be forgiven once they married?
A shiver ran through her at the thought of her wedding night as Percy’s bride. If the mere memory of his kisses combined with her own touch could bring her such pleasure now, it would surely be doubled when it was his hands that wandered over her.
She didn’t know how to satisfy the strange hunger smoldering in her flesh, and she didn’t know how to make it stop. Standing at the brink of she knew not what, her body tingling and throbbing, she teetered. Afraid to provoke her desires any further, she turned and again groaned into her pillow. Hot tears seeped into the cloth beneath her cheek.
Damn Catherine! she again cursed silently. Had the woman left well enough alone, Eden might have started planning her wedding tomorrow and perhaps be married within a month.
If her stepmother threw a dozen men at her, she knew she would still choose Percy. He was the only man ever to make her feel. The pleasure of his kisses aside, he was also one of the few men she’d ever met whom she genuinely liked—despite all his faults. If he would put up with hers, she would put up with his.
…
Never had Eden seen so many people gathered in one place.
The Sheffields’ palatial ballroom glowed beneath the light of countless candles, and bright silks flashed by at every turn as ladies and gentlemen displayed their wares in what was arguably the biggest marriage market in London.
With gliding steps she floated through the ballroom on the arm of the most eligible and notorious of the unmarrieds. Women eyed Percy and simultaneously sized her up as a rival. Head high, she met their stares.
Percy, she was pleased to note, did likewise. Together, they sent a clear message—they were a pair. Eden dared not look at her stepmother for fear of finding frank disapproval. Her gut told her Catherine would make her move tonight and introduce her to Ravenwood.
She’d gone back and forth on whether or not to speak with Percy, and had decided it was better he knew. He must, before it happened, ensuring there could be no question about her preference—in his mind at least. Let the rest of them think what they would.
“You look most fetching tonight,” murmured the handsome man beside her.
