Page 10 of Slightly Wicked

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Before any of her sisters could reply, a carriage rumbled to a stop a few paces before them. Eleanor faltered, her heart tripping inside her chest when she recognized the equipage. Lizzy, who had been staring at her, sucked in a harsh breath.

“What is it?” Eleanor asked.

“That look on your face,” Lizzy said with soft astonishment, “Thatlook, Ellie, whoever it is for it is the beginning of love.”

Shock stole her reply at that assessment. “You are being silly, Lizzy. And what would you know of love?”

“I am not being silly. You should see your face.”

They fumbled to a stop as the carriage door swung open. However, no one exited the equipage.

“What is happening?” Emma asked, shifting protectively closer to her sisters.

Eleanor swallowed. “The gentleman I told you about…the one who rescued me from the ruffians…this is his carriage.”

“Oh!” Ester said in a hushed breath.

They stood there on the streets of Mayfair, staring at the carriage and the open door.

“I can tell that you want to,” Lizzy said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. “Go ahead.”

“She should go ahead and do what?” Emma demanded, her brows lowered in a frown.

“Enter the carriage,” Lizzy said. “It is clear he is waiting for her to do so.”

“That is simply outrageous,” Eleanor said, feeling faint. “I could never act in such a manner!”

“But you want to,” Ester said with a wondering look in her direction. “It is written all over your face, Ellie. I have never seen you so tempted. Not even by the chocolate cake cook made last night, and that wasperfectlydivine.”

Temptation beat against her senses, and Eleanor knew any of her other sisters would have run to that carriage a long time ago. She was only ‘slightly wicked’…not real ‘bad Fairbanks.’ She could never act in any scandalous or improper manner because, unlike her sisters, she did not revel in their shenanigans or thumbing their noses at those toplofty ladies and gentlemen. She craved acceptance and normalcy and to walk down the street without anyone raising their gloved hands to their mouth to whisper and gossip about her family. She hungered for that normalcy and respectability…oh God, so why was she slowly inching toward that open carriage door?

“I cannot imagine what I am thinking,” she gasped, faltering. “The man in that carriage is a stranger. I do not even know his name, and we hadonechance meeting. There is no reason at all for me to feel nervous or for my heart to be beating so!”

“He did give you a rapier,” Ester said from behind her. “I believe that says something. What I am not sure, though. And I have caught you just staring at the thing several times.”

A choked laugh escaped Eleanor. A hand squeezed her, and she glanced down to see that Lizzy had taken her hands.

“Your heart is beating, Ellie?”

“I feel as if I might faint,” she said on a breathless laugh. “It is ridiculous.”

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Lizzy asked in an odd, yet gentle tone.

“No,” Eleanor admitted, blushing.

Her sister’s smile was one of understanding. “Go. We will cover for you with mama and Colin.”

“And the old dragon,” Ester muttered.

She met the stare of each of her sisters and to her dazed shock, she saw no voice of caution or restraint, just that wicked twinkle in their identical blue orbs urging her to be unrestrained. “I am only going to go because…”

Because it had been five days since she met him, and every night she had tossed restlessly wondering who he was. What was his name. Where did he live. What did he do for a living, or was he a gentleman of means and consequences? Was he alone in this world, or did he have a wonderful family like hers to love and care for? When she had been frustrated at herself for having those questions about a man she spent only fifteen minutes with, Eleanor had thumped her pillows and bellowed her annoyance into their softness.

Her feet pushed her forward as they had a will of their own, and when she neared the carriage, the footman jumped down and placed the steps for her. Eleanor held the edges of her gown and walked up the steps and into the carriage.

“That was the longest five minutes of my life,” a low voice murmured as she entered.

How his voice stroked over her body and sank below the surface of her skin.


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical