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‘I didn’t sleep very well.’ That was an understatement; she doubted if she had slept a wink all night.
‘I knew I should have let you lie in, no matter what you said,’ the maid pronounced, pulling back the drapes. ‘Eight o’clock is no time to be getting up the morning after a ball. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.’
‘I must see Lady Standon first thing this morning,’ Maude said, wrapping her fingers tightly round her chocolate cup for the comfort of the heat. She had to make thing right with Jessica. ‘And then we will go to the theatre.’
There was a noise from the landing. Rainbow appeared to be arguing with someone, which was unprecedented.
‘Anna, go and see what on earth is going on…’ Maude began, but the maid was already round the screen that shielded the bed from the door.
‘Oh, Lady Standon! But my lady said she was coming to call on you this morning…’
‘You see, Rainbow. I knew Lady Maude would be awake, so you can stop looking starchy and let me in,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘Anna, I want a private word with your mistress.’
Maude put down her cup and slid out of bed. ‘Jessica?’
‘Oh, my dear!” Her friend flew round the screen and caught her in a warm embrace. ‘I’ve been perfectly miserable—how are you?’
‘Miserable too. Jessica, I am so sorry, I should never have said you were hypocritical, or mentioned that morning, or been cross at all. I know you are worried about me.’
‘Oh, I am!’ Jessica sat down on the edge of the bed, her arm around Maude’s shoulders. ‘But I wouldn’t tell Lord Pangbourne, I promise.’
‘I know. Jessica, I should have listened to you and Bel—it’s like riding a tiger, isn’t it? How do you get off it again safely?’
‘What is?’ Jessica was looking bemused.
‘Sex,’ Maude said bluntly. ‘I thought there was kissing. And then there was bed and he’d…you know. I didn’t know there was all that stuff in the middle! How on earth do you think with that going on?’
‘You’re not supposed to,’ Jessica said, unsuccessfully fighting a smile.
‘But I need to think, I need to plan and see what is happening and judge how he’s feeling. And when he…we…My mind just turned to jelly.’
‘Maude, you can’t do this like planning a complicated social event, with a list for this and that and things to be done that will get you a result. Either the man falls in love with you—and Heaven help you both if he does—or he doesn’t. Now tell me, what exactly happened?’
Looking back, it wasn’t all very clear, but blushing rosily, Maude did her best to explain.
‘Oh, my,’ Jessica murmured. ‘Well, I take back what I said about him—the man has enviable self-control. Now listen, I am going to be very, very frank about things because I do not want you being taken by surprise again. Not,’ she added, ‘that I hope you ever find yourself in that situation with a man you aren’t married to.’
‘You did,’ Maude pointed out.
‘I married him, and very eligible he is too,’ Jessica retorted. ‘Now listen, and if you do not understand, ask me questions.’ She looked around. ‘But ring for a jug of chocolate first, I am going to need it.’
‘Her ladyship’s back, Guv’nor.’ Howard put his head round the office door. ‘Bloody hell, you look rough this morning.’
Eden growled and put down his pen. ‘Send someone with some hot water.’ She was here? The day after the ball? After what had happened? ‘What’s she doing?’ he called after the stage manager.
‘Prowling up and down the aisles with a tape measure, a notebook and that maid Anna. I’ll send Millie with the water.’
Eden stripped to the waist and took his shaving gear from the cupboard. The face that glowered back at him from the glass had a heavy growth of stubble, dark circles under its eyes and hair that had been raked by his fingers into wild disarray. Perhaps he should walk out looking like this, then she would see the real him, the unworthy, uncivilised creature under the veneer.
There was a tap on the door, Millie came in, gave a started squeak, set down the hot water jug and scuttled out. Eden set to work restoring the image he so carefully cultivated: controlled, polished, unapproachable and impregnable. The razor slid through the soap foam on his face, slicing away the whiskers, leaving a clean, smooth track in its wake. If only he could cut away last night as easily. But Maude was under his skin now, too deep to reach without cuts that would be agonising.
When he was finished, hair slicked back, neckcloth tied, he strode out of the room without giving himself time to think.
Maude was on stage, bent over the table, drawing on a large sheet of paper. He walked silently across and looked over her shoulder. It was a rough plan of the theatre. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Hurst,’ she said, running her pencil carefully along a ruler’s edge. He could have sworn he had made no sound.
‘Good afternoon, Lady Maude.’ She turned her head, her hands still resting on the table, and smiled up at him and he realised what had been making him dizzy all those times he had thought himself unwell. Maude. She looked tired, but the unhappiness had gone from the depths of those big hazel eyes. ‘Have you made up your quarrel with Lady Standon?’
‘Yes—how did you know?’
