‘These evening breeches are not designed for concealment,’ he observed, sitting and crossing his legs. ‘Let us sit and discuss unpleasant things for a while.’
The haze of satisfied desire was fading rapidly, leaving Maude staring at reality. ‘No doubt you can think of several,’ she managed to say.
Too soon, the voice in her head whispered. Too soon. That had been desire, pure carnal lust. Not love. Was it even, on his part, much to do with affection either? And she had melted at his touch, all her careful, foolish, strategy in ruins. I had no idea, Maude’s thoughts whispered. None.
Her friends had cautioned her, and in her innocence she had failed to understand. Thinking she could manage a man with the sensual experience and the lack of social constraints of Eden Hurst was like thinking she could ride a wild horse bareback. And now she had fallen. And he had made love to her and remained in control. She had laid her desires open and he had sated them and murmured not one word of affection as he did so. And he had been right—in the morning, when she could think clearly, she knew this was going to hurt a great deal.
Maude clenched her hands together. What had she said to Bel? I have enough breeding for both of us. She was Lady Maude Templeton, daughter of the Earl of Pangbourne, and she never, ever, ran away from anything or anyone.
Eden drew in the same deep, calming breaths he used before stepping out on to the stage or dealing with a difficult negotiation, then he conjured up the face of the Earl of Pangbourne and imagined his expression if he discovered that his daughter had been making love with Eden Hurst. That was a start, enough to chill anyone’s ardour. If he needed anything else, he could remember that he was the bastard son of a disgraced Ravenhurst and had nothing at all to offer her, certainly none of the things that she deserved.
The trouble was, whenever he looked across at Maude, whenever he drew breath and caught the scent of warm, aroused woman, lust grabbed him again with hot claws.
Why couldn’t he resist her? He could resist any other woman on the planet. It was merely sex, he tried to tell himself, an appetite to be controlled just as one would control hunger or anger. But somehow, with Maude, it was mysteriously more.
‘That will not happen again,’ he said, deliberately harsh, wanting to see her flinch, wanting to repel her.
‘No. I can imagine it was very unsatisfactory for you,’ she said softly. ‘But thank you for being so careful.’
‘It was far from unsatisfactory,’ he said, charmed into truthfulness. She should be weeping, or having the vapours, or throwing the china at him in reaction by now, not being sweet and understanding and—and Maude. ‘It was beautiful to hold you in my arms and to see your pleasure, a privilege that you trusted me.’
That sweet, dazed bliss, the knowledge that he had given her that, overwhelmed the desire simply to take her, thrust into her body, find his own release. It was working now, he could feel the brute nagging lust subside into something that was a warm, regretful glow.
‘I think we should go back now, have some supper before we are missed.’
Maude nodded and got to her feet, grabbing at the arm of the chair. ‘Oh my, my legs are so shaky!’
Eden reached for her, then snatched his hand back. Better not to touch her, not while they were alone like this. He saw the look of comprehension on her face and winced inwardly. He should have been strong for both of them, but even now, he could not truthfully tell himself he was sorry.
‘If you go first,’ he said, unlocking both doors, ‘and then take the door on the right in the corridor, that opens up into one of the retiring rooms. I’ll go out of the door we left by.’ He snuffed out the candles as she left with a terse nod. ‘Wait for me by the door to the supper room.’
Alone, he stood trying not to think and then found his right hand was pressed to the centre of his chest as if to soothe the pain there. But why was he in pain? Why did he feel as though he had just lost something?
Chapter Sixteen
‘Maude? What has happened?’ It was Jessica, right behind her. ‘Where have you been?’
‘What do you mean?’ Maude retorted, too flustered to be anything but defensive. ‘I’m hungry, that’s all.’
‘You and Mr Hurst vanished over half an hour ago,’ Jessica said. ‘And you look…different. Have you—? No. No, I refuse to believe that even that man would do such a thing in the middle of a ball.’
‘What do you mean, even that man?’ Maude managed to keep her voice down to a furious hiss with difficulty.
‘The man’s a notorious rake,’ Jessica hissed back. ‘But I never believed he’d debauch a virgin. I should have spoken to your father. I am never going to forgive myself if I find he has—’
‘Well, he hasn’t. Unfortunately,’ Maude snapped, perilously close to tears all of a sudden. ‘I had been going to talk to you, ask your advice, but now, I never want to speak of it again to you.’
‘Of all the naïve, headstrong, romantic idiots.’ Jessica shook her head in disbelief. ‘How you—’
‘Maude, are you all right?’ It was Eden, tall and broad and here, just when she needed him.
‘No, I am not all right,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘I would like a glass of champagne, please. And I want to sit down somewhere where I will not be nagged at by hypocritical friends,’ she added in a fierce undertone to Jessica. ‘I was there when you came back from Gareth’s bed at eight in the morning in your evening gown—remember?’
She had never once exchanged a cross word with Jessica and now, here they were, hissing at each other like the start of a cat fight. Unable to bear the expression of shock on her friend’s face, Maude whirled round and walked into the supper room.
‘Sit.’ Eden had found a table. ‘Wait there and do not pick any more quarrels until I get back.’
Maude sat, feeling dizzy with reaction and trying to look as though she was having a wonderful time and the only concern she had in the world was what delicacies her partner was going to bring her.