Deception in Regency Society: A Wicked Liaison / Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception. Christine Merrill
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away in the direction of the street, trampling more expensive landscaping as he went.
There was more swearing from Barton as he came back in her direction, and softly called her name.
She stepped behind a tree, scarcely daring to breathe.
He walked within an arm’s length of her, but she stayed still in the shadows and let him pass.
Barton released another quiet oath, and turned in the direction of the house, probably hoping to find her there.
She smiled in satisfaction. Let him look. She had the necklace again. There was no reason to stay a moment longer. It was not a chill night, she had no wrap. She could find her own way to the street through the garden, without taking leave of the host.
She turned into the darkness. At least she thought she could find her way to the street. If the house was behind her, then surely…
‘Allow me.’ A hand reached out of the darkness, and caught her arm.
She gasped. ‘Smythe.’
‘The same.’
‘I thought you had gone.’
‘And leave you alone in the dark? I think not. Do you have a carriage back at the house?’
‘Barton sent a coach for me. I assumed that I would find a friend to escort me home.’
‘And so you have. I will see you home, if you can leave immediately. I suspect I am no longer welcome in Barton’s home.’ She could see his grin in the darkness.
She smiled in return. ‘And I have no wish to return. It suits me well.’
‘Excellent.’ It was impossible to tell, but he sounded sincerely pleased to have her company. He slipped his arm through hers and lead her in the direction of the street.
A thrill shot through her at the idea of being alone in the dark with him again, far from the safety of the house. Anything could happen and no one would be the wiser.
‘You should not be so careless with your reputation, your Grace.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
His voice was gentle, but held a hint of disapproval. ‘You were alone in the garden. With Barton, I mean.’
‘Only because you wished me to distract him,’ she said acerbically. ‘You left the method to me.’
‘And I did not expect you to choose that one, after what you said to me as we danced. Did you wish for him to kiss you?’
‘Not particularly.’
There was a hesitation. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘That is a very impertinent question.’
‘And that is a very evasive answer.’
‘But it is all you will get from me,’ she said. ‘Did you at least get what you were searching for?’
‘No, I did not. And what makes you think I was searching for anything?’
She tipped her head to the side, considering. ‘I am not sure. But I hope, if you merely intended burglary, you would not want or need to involve me in it.’
He nodded. ‘That is true. And do not worry. It will not happen again. I have involved you too much already.’
‘That is all right,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It was not too great a burden.’
‘Allowing Barton to kiss you in the moonlight.’ There was a cynical bite to his words that did not escape her.
‘It was only a kiss,’ she responded.
‘Oh, really? But a kiss can be a dangerous thing, if done correctly.’ He swung her body into his and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’ And then he brought his mouth down upon hers.
It was as it had been on the night in her room. His kiss was as heady and romantic as the smell of the roses in the garden, and she relaxed into it, letting it awaken her senses.
She slipped her arms inside his coat, and felt the muscles of his back and shoulders tense as her fingers touched him. His arms strained to pull her closer to him, and he stroked her tongue with his, varying the pressure of his lips against hers from punishing firmness to a featherlight touch. When he released her mouth, she caught him about the waist and arched her body away from him, baring her throat and willing him to kiss her there, and lower.
He accepted the invitation and his lips trailed fire down her neck to rest on her shoulder. ‘Do you enjoy it when I kiss you?’ he murmured into her skin.
‘Yes.’ She shuddered against him.
He ran a finger inside the neckline of her gown and pulled the dress away from her body, pushing to slide it down her arm. He planted a kiss just under the place where her dress should end, and she gasped.
He laughed and his finger traced her collarbone. ‘I am going to kiss you there again. Hard enough to mark you. No one will know it but we two, because your gown will hide all. Would you like that?’
‘Yes.’ She shocked herself by saying it, knowing that it was true. ‘Oh, yes.’
‘I thought you might.’ And he lowered his head again, and she felt him suck on the flesh, felt the feeling run through her all the way to her toes.
It was the work of a moment. And then it was over. He leaned his head against her ear and whispered, ‘If you would kiss, then do not give them cheaply to one such as Barton. Choose someone worthy of your affection.’ He walked her the last few steps through the trees and they came out at the bend of the drive. He whistled once and a carriage appeared from out of the darkness. Black and unmarked, with black horses and a driver muffled beyond recognition.
Smythe gave instructions to the driver and then he handed her up into the carriage, shutting the door behind her.
She leaned out of the window to where he stood in the road. ‘Are you not coming as well?’
‘My man will see you home.’ There was hunger in his eyes as he stared up into her face. ‘You are safer with him tonight than alone in a carriage with me.’
‘But how will you get home?’ And where is home? And are you alone there? She was bursting with unasked questions.
He smiled at her, his face dim in the light from the carriage lamps. ‘Never worry about me, your Grace. I have ways. Until we meet again.’ He bowed to her as the carriage pulled away and he disappeared into the darkness behind her.
She leaned back into the squabs, her heart hammering in her chest. He had been right about the danger in a kiss. His were as intoxicating as anything served at the party, and as compelling as Barton’s were not.
Perhaps what Barton accused her of was true. She was more than willing to bend the rules if she felt she would not be caught. And Mr Smythe would see to it that what they did was safe and in secret.
Perhaps it was no more than that. He was passionate, but solicitous of her reputation. Where other men wished to parade her fallen virtue as a trophy to their skills at seduction, with Smythe no one would know that they had been together. When he was done with her he would leave as quietly as he had come, moving through her life like a fish through water.
And when they parted tonight, he had not said goodbye. She could scarce control herself at the thought of seeing him again. She could still feel the kiss, hot and sinful, a brand on her shoulder to remind her of all the ways and places he might kiss her, should she allow it.
And why had she been so quick to agree? Was it because he had not asked at all?
Not at first, perhaps. But once he had started, he had asked her what would make her happy. He had not tried to negotiate her out of her honour, or worried that he was being outbid by some other man. He had not given her an ultimatum, or threatened her with shame or discovery.
He’d