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“Adieu, my dear,” he said to Marguerite with a kiss to her forehead.
And this time, before she could utter another objection, he took his leave.
* * * * *
Heloise had the carriage deposit her a mile from the Merrill estate with the intention of traversing the remaining distance on foot. Watching the carriage withdrawing into the sunset, she was poignantly conscious that her assignation with Lord Cadwell was over. She might not cross paths again with him for some time, and she would prefer the absence to the inevitable awkwardness that must accompany future encounters between them.
She welcomed the solitary walk, hoping the pleasant glow of dusk would calm her unrest. Cadwell had stirred an agitation within her that she could not quiet. Longing for his touch, her body felt as though it were a tuning fork that could not cease its reverberation. What a muddle she had made of herself! Though driven by good intentions, she had succeeded in accomplishing nothing save making a proper fool of herself before the Earl of Blythe. Her cheeks flushed at what he must think of her now.
The most troubling aspect of it all was that she cared what he thought.
As she approached the house, her thoughts turned to Josephine and the dreaded confrontation. How would she explain herself to her cousin? She had reconciled herself to the prospect of losing Josephine’s affection in exchange for “rescuing” her cousin from Lord Cadwell, but now that her mission had proved a failure—and that she herself had succumbed to that from which she had sought to protect Josephine—she no longer felt secure in her standing.
“Miss Merrill!” the maidservant at the door greeted her in surprise, louder than Heloise would have liked. “We was in quite a state as to where you might have gone off to.”
“I went to call upon an ailing friend,” Heloise mumbled as she glanced about for her cousin with a quickened pulse. “Where is Miss Josephine?”
“In the garden, I believe, with Mr. Webster.”
Mr. Webster was a friend of Lord Cadwell and had called once before on Josephine.
“Is anyone else with them?”
The maid shook her head. Heloise sighed at Josephine’s disregard for a chaperone, but she was relieved too, that she might not have to confront her cousin quite yet.
“Shall I assist in your toilette, Miss Merrill?”
With her skirts dust-covered from the walk, Heloise realized she must have looked rather unkempt from her travels. They went upstairs to her chambers, which now looked a tad drab compared to those at the Château Follet.
As she unlaced her bonnet and shrugged out of her caraco, she thought once again of Lord Cadwell, of his hands undressing her, his body pressed against her. How quickly her apprehension had transformed to comfort in his presence, as if they had been lovers for some time. She would never have imagined that she could experience such ease with a man and that the words “fuck me” would fall from her lips as effortlessly as a comment about the weather.
“Allow me.?
??
Heloise whirled around. She had stepped out of her skirts and awaited the maid to unlace her stays when Josephine appeared. Her breath stalled.
Josephine pulled at the ribbons without word. The frown upon her lips and the stiffness of her hand “You know?” Heloise ventured.
“I was awaiting the invitation. When none arrived and I discovered you absent without any of the servants knowing your whereabouts, I suspected your interference.”
She forced a breath. “Forgive me, Josephine.”
Josephine paused before replying, her voice quavering with anger, “You are not my keeper, Heloise.”
Heloise stared at the floor. “I know. I was wrong to have intervened. I should not censure you were you to decide never to speak to me again.”
“Then why did you?” her cousin accused.
Noble if not condescending sentiments, the earl had said.
Heloise took a deep breath and looked into Josephine’s eyes. “I was a fool.”
With an exasperated sigh, Josephine flopped into an armchair nearby. “You went all the way to Château Follet?”
She nodded.
“And spoke with Lord Cadwell?”
