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‘It was hardly my best effort,’ Eden said thoughtfully. He lifted her veil back, then his hands bracketed her face, his thumbs caressing lightly against her cheeks.
‘Eden—we are on the street!’ Her breathing was all over the place and her hands, without any conscious volition, had come up to rest against his lapels.
‘Safest place,’ he said, sounding rather grim for a man about to kiss a woman. And then he kissed her and Maude stopped thinking about his tone of voice at all.
Chapter Twelve
The pressure of Eden’s mouth on hers was light—a caress, not a demand. He did not draw her closer, or try to master her, he simply let his lips stray over hers, tasting, caressing, until finally his tongue-tip slipped between her lips and she could taste in her turn.
His gentleness made her shyer than his force had done; his restraint ensured that every move she made would be very plain to both of them. Maude’s fingers closed around his lapels, rather than slide into his hair, which was what she wanted; she stood still rather than pressed herself against him, which was what her body wanted.
The kiss was over almost before it had begun, before her legs could begin to tremble, before her mind became completely blurred with sensation. Eden released her, dropped a kiss on to her forehead, adjusted her veil, then drew her out into the open, her hand once again tucked chastely into his elbow.
‘Thank you,’ he said seriously. ‘That won’t happen again.’
‘It won’t? I mean, why did it happen at all?’ Maude asked, flustered and not at all certain she was not angry with him. That brief caress had agitated more than it had satisfied, confused her more than answered any of her doubts and questions.
‘It happened because I needed to get that out of my mind,’ Eden said. ‘I needed to be sure I would not reach out for you when we were alone together. Shall we just say, I was satisfying my curiosity?’
‘You may if you like,’ Maude retorted. Yes, she was angry. ‘Why here, now, in the street?’
‘Because it is a very safe place. Even I am not going to go any further than that out here.’
‘Even you?’ she demanded, coming to an abrupt halt on the corner. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I have a certain reputation,’ Eden said, looking down at her. It was hard to see in the poor light, but she thought he looked as grim as he had sounded just before he kissed her.
‘For liaisons with married ladies. Very short-lived liaisons,’ Maude retorted. ‘I hadn’t heard that you went about debauching virgins.’
‘And I do not intend to start.’ Eden strode along the short end of the square, forcing Maude to do a hop and a skip to keep up.
‘Excellent. Because I have no intention of being debauched. It sounds horrible. Seduction sounds much better. With the right man, of course.’ And if Eden had kissed her like that, that night in the box after dinner, then she could not fool herself—he could have seduced her with no difficulty whatsoever.
He stopped again on the corner of Curzon Street and looked down at her. The sound he made might have been a huff of laughter. ‘Hold on to that thought, Maude. Am I forgiven?’
‘Of course. It was very pleasant, and instructive, if brief. I could have told you to stop, could I not? And,’ she added, risking a smile, ‘I did not limit what your treat could be.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ Eden’s smile was genuine, if fleeting. Then he was serious again. Maude wondered if she was imagining the look of bleakness in his eyes, then decided it must be a trick of the torchlight flickering from the flambeaux outside the houses on the corner.
She was making progress with Eden, Maude decided, pouring the earl’s morning coffee as a dutiful daughter should, and closing her ears to his robust, if muttered, comments on the government’s taxation policy.
Eden was obviously attracted to her, or he would not want to kiss her. And it must be something more than mere desire, because he was so gentle with her. And he had remembered what she had been wearing in the shop that day. And he had listened to her views at the audition. It was slower progress, though, than she had daydreamed of. Foolishly she had expected him to take one look and fall in love with her—or at least manage to do so after a short acquaintance.
And just as obviously the fact that she had fallen in love at first sight did not mean it must be mutual. She sighed, remembering the gentleness of his kiss, the total control. He was very obviously
not out of control with desire for her.
‘You are up very early, my dear.’ The sigh had obviously penetrated the barrier of the Morning Post, which lowered to reveal her father’s face. He frowned, causing his bushy eyebrows to waggle. ‘Bad night?’
‘Mmm. I couldn’t sleep.’ Mysteriously, light and gentle kisses appeared to wreak the same havoc on her internal organs and her nerves as passionate, forceful ones. Maude’s sleep had consisted of feverish dreams interspersed with long periods tossing and turning and thinking—fruitlessly—of tactics to make Eden fall in love.
‘Well, rest today in that case. I don’t want you burning the candle at both ends with all those parties and that committee of yours. How’s your theatre doing?’
‘My theatre? It is very much Mr Hurst’s theatre, Papa, even though he does not own it. I am reminded of a big dog with a juicy marrow bone—no one may have so much as a nibble without express permission.’
‘He is insolent?’ The earl folded his paper and slapped it down beside his plate. ‘I’ll not have that.’
‘No, Papa. Not at all. It is simply that…’ She groped for the words to explain. ‘It is like you and Knight’s Fee. You tolerate the advice of your bailiff and steward and Mr Lambert at Home Farm—but it is you, and you alone, who makes the decisions. Only you inherited the estate; he has created everything himself and I think he can never shake off the fear that he could lose it too.’
