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‘Lady Maude. May I say how very lovely you are looking this evening?’ She dimpled at him. ‘Might I beg the honour of the first waltz? And perhaps something later?’
‘I would be delighted.’ Maude consulted her dance card. ‘The first waltz and the fourth set of country dances, then.’ As she hoped, he stayed by her side, his eyes a little too brazen in their admiration of her neckline. ‘Listen! The orchestra has started.’
The major promptly offered his arm to walk her into the ballroom. With perfect timing they found themselves halted at the doors to the ballroom by a knot of elderly chaperons who were greeting each other loudly right next to Eden, still in attendance on Mrs Hampton-Wilde.
Maude looked up at Sir Frederick, a slight smile on her lips, and was rewarded by him returning the look with one of cheek-warming intensity. ‘Oh, Sir Frederick,’ she said lightly, ‘you quite put me to the blush, you wicked man.’
Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of Eden’s head turning, felt the impact of his eyes on her. As she hoped, the major bent over her, murmuring flirtatious nonsense and she laughed, rapping him on the sleeve with her fan in mock reproof.
‘Lady Maude.’
‘Mr Hurst! My goodness, you made me jump. Good evening, Mrs Hampton-Wilde.’ The other woman bowed, her lips pursing in displeasure at the interruption.
‘Might I ask for the honour of a dance?’ Eden asked. Maude smiled and nodded. ‘The first waltz?’
‘I am engaged to Sir Frederick for that set. Perhaps some country dances later?’
‘Might I see?’ Eden reached for her dance card almost before she lifted her hand. Beside her the major stiffened. ‘The supper set and the last one?’ He was writing, E.H., even as she agreed. Perfect. And even better was the way he was looking at Sir Frederick with cold, hard challenge. He did not like to see her with the other man, that was plain, even if he was unaware of just what that implied.
Although, Maude mused, as her hand was claimed by Lord Nashe for the first set, a quadrille, it could simply be that Eden was aware of Sir Frederick’s reputation and would have been wary of his attentions to any young lady he knew.
Still, even if he was not consumed by burning jealousy, it was a good start to the evening and she could not brood upon it any more now—the first of the figures, the Grand Ronde, was underway. Maude smiled at her partner and set herself to follow the complex patterns of the dance.
Eden set one shoulder against a pillar and watched the promenading couples through narrowed eyes. Maude was not, thankfully, dancing with that rake Staines, although she would be, he’d seen the initials on her card. The man wasn’t safe for her to be with; he was a regular visitor to the Unicorn, to be found in the Green Room after a show, propositioning the girls of the chorus or in a box with some companions and two or three bits of muslin.
Was Maude aware of his reputation? And what the hell was she doing here without her father, or a proper chaperon? She was too damn free and easy, that was the trouble…
He listened to his own thoughts and smiled grimly, hardly noticing the expression of alarm on the face of a bold young lady who had been staring at him as she passed. Damn it, he sounded like her guardian, or her elder brother, which was thoroughly hypocritical of him, considering he was encouraging her in unconventional behaviour—dining in her box, walking home through the streets. Kissing in alleyways.
But that was with him. She was safe with him—give or take a kiss. Thoughts of those kisses occupied him through the entire set. It occurred to him that association with Maude Templeton was turning him celibate—in action if not in thought. Which was, Eden mused, odd. He was well aware that his appetites, while well regulated, were more than healthy. So why was he avoiding the usual houses where such things could be discreetly satisfied?
Maude, twirling in the middle of the set, turned her head, laughing in response to something her partner was saying to her, and Eden caught his breath. No, he had not lost interest in sex, he had simply lost interest in any other woman than Maude.
Hell. This was more serious than he had imagined. There was a strange sensation apparently lodged under his breastbone, his normally clear mind was in turmoil—and she, quite obviously, had no ideas in that direction whatsoever. She would hardly been so comfortable alone with him if she had.
Maude knew all there was to know about his parentage, so she must, being very much a member of the ton herself, have no thought at all of any other relationship than the one they had now.
Ed
en conjured up, with no difficulty whatsoever, the feel of her mouth under his, her body against him. It was not that Maude was not responsive when he kissed her, but she was most certainly not abandoned to passion. It was almost as though she was curious. Perhaps that was it; a well-bred young woman had few opportunities to experience passion and she thought he was safe enough to experiment with a little.
Painfully, an entire new set of emotions were being born—possessive, protective desire, warm liking, the need to be near her. He had never let himself get close to a woman before and there was no one to ask if these were normal feelings.
He had resolved to simply get used to her being around and that was proving impossible. It was impossible, too, to be unmoved by the sight of Sir Frederick Staines waiting for her as she walked off after the completion of the quadrille. Eden looked at his own card. A waltz. Now he was going to have to stand and watch her revolving in the arms of that man.
Eden glanced to either side and realised he was behind the chairs occupied by a group of wallflowers, half a dozen young women watching with ill-concealed envy as their more fortunate sisters took to the floor. He stepped forward, selected the plainest girl he could see and stopped in front of her.
‘I regret we have not been introduced, but may I have the honour of this dance?’ It was improper on his part, and outrageously fast on hers, but the young woman, sandy haired, befreckled and gawky, jumped to her feet with alacrity.
‘I would love to, sir.’ She could, he realised with considerable relief as they reached the floor, dance. In fact, despite her height and her surprise at being snatched from the sidelines, she moved very gracefully.
‘I am Eden Hurst,’ he said after the first few steps.
‘Angela Hunter. I haven’t been approved to waltz by a Patroness, you know,’ she added, biting her lip.
‘It’s all right, you can simply say I snatched you on to the floor and you were far too well behaved to resist,’ Eden said, sweeping her round a corner. ‘Everyone will blame me, I have a shocking reputation.’
‘Really?’ She grinned. ‘What fun.’
