Chapter 28
Sam waited in the foyer for her carriage to be brought round to take her to meet Jude and Lord Cartwright. Her afternoon had crept by as she waited for a reply from her sister. It had arrived during supper, and their housekeeper had delivered it immediately to Sam—to Marce’s disapproving glare.
It had taken a bit of convincing before her eldest sister acquiesced to Sam’s pleas.
It was only an evening at the outdoor playhouse, and she’d be properly chaperoned by a respectable, married woman—yes, she’d stooped so low as to dare Marce to refute Jude’s newly acquired respectable status as a countess—and now Sam was almost free of the confines of Craven House.
The most shocking aspect of the entire situation was that Marce had not bid Sam take Payton with her.
With any luck, the new Lord and Lady Cartwright would be too enamored with one another to notice if she and Elijah slipped away.
To appease her sister further, Sam had donned the demure, high-necked, pink evening gown with cuffed shoulders and white gloves.
Her beaded ivory reticule and matching fan went splendidly with her dress and didn’t take attention away from her pearl earbobs.
She’d gathered her hair low on the back of her head and allowed her locks to hang free over one shoulder.
There was no need to glance in the looking glass again. Elijah—and any man with proper eyesight—would see how stunning she looked. Graceful, poised, and every inch a lady.
Now, if only her carriage would hurry.
She was ready to be anything but a lady.
Jude expected her shortly, and they’d not want to be late and face the crushing crowd of people hurrying to their seats before the curtain rose.
The front door opened, slamming against the doorframe when Garrett stumbled in.
His face flamed red, his shirt untucked, and his hair mussed.
“Heavens,” Sam yelped, her hand lying against her chest to settle her erratic heartbeat. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“With me?” His cynical laughter filled the room as he set his hand against his own chest, mimicking her stance. “Never mind. Where are you going?” He took in her fancy garb and neat hair, as he looked her over from her crown to her toes peeking from beneath her skirts.
Sam took a deep breath, refusing to look away from his intense glare. “Jude invited me to accompany her and Lord Cartwright to the playhouse.” A moderately adjusted form of the truth. “Marce gave me permission to attend. She is in her office if you’d like to check for yourself.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes, huffed, and started off down the hall toward their sister’s office, the stench of liquor following in his wake.
Her nose wrinkled at the horrid smell. Very unlike her brother to imbibe overly…and then dare show his face at Craven House. Marce was no fool. The only thing she despised more than scandal was a man who drank in excess.
Odder still, her brother had never taken much interest in his siblings’ comings and goings.
There was little reason now for him to take more than a passing notice of Sam’s evening entertainments.
While he was the only male member of their family, it was common for Garrett to leave the rearing of his younger siblings to Marce.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled despite the warmth of the foyer. Anything out of character for Garrett unsettled Sam.
The jingle of horse riggings sounded outside.
Her maid had insisted she take her shawl and muff, as well as her jacket. The outdoor playhouse was known to be a bit on the frigid side into the late evening, and Sam thought it wise to listen. Especially since she planned to slip away from the lighted areas for a few moments alone with Elijah.
Sam hurried outside, and Mr. Curtis handed her into the carriage before they were off.
It was only a short ride to Lord Cartwright’s townhouse.
With no one to invade her musings, Sam allowed her thoughts free rein.
They immediately focused on Lord Ridgefeld.
The cut of his broad shoulders. The way his eyes matched the shade of his hair almost perfectly: dark with hints of gold.
The way a single dimple appeared high on his cheek when he smiled. His strong hands.
Those same hands holding the naughty book at Hollybrooke, his eyes aglow with surprise but quickly fading to a deep, lust-filled stare.
In her altered memory, no servant had disrupted them.
They’d stayed wrapped in each other’s arms as their lips and hands explored to their hearts’ content.
When they’d explored as much as possible being fully clothed, Eli had swept her into his arms and carried her to the chaise lounge, laying her down gently as her hair fanned around her like a halo, all her hairpins suddenly gone and forgotten.
Elijah’s body did not follow her to the lounge. No, he had other plans for her.
Her body shuddered at the thought.
Instead of joining her, he kneeled and used his hands to push her skirts up to reveal her slippers. Those same hands gently removed them, his fingers trailing along the bottom of her stocking-clad feet before traveling up to her ankle and farther still.
Sam’s head fell back, and she moaned, just as she did in her own imaginings of that night.
His fingers caressed up her calf to the bow just above her knee. With a swift tug, the knot came undone, and Eli rolled her stocking down. He smiled at her in wonder before pressing his lips to her leg and following the path his hands had taken to remove her other stocking.
Why did she long for his hands to move higher on her leg, between her legs, not downward?
She swallowed, altering her own memory. Now, his hand did follow the path she imagined. Higher and higher until his hand brushed her most sensitive spot. Warmth flooded her, centering at her core as she shifted to allow Elijah easier access to push her drawers to the side and…
“Samantha?” Jude cleared her throat. “Are you sleeping?”
Sam’s eyes popped open, and she attempted to focus, but all she saw was the ceiling of the enclosed carriage, her head still thrown back and yet another moan struggling to escape.
How had she journeyed all the way to the Cartwright townhouse in the blink of an eye? Certainly, it was not possible. Maybe she was asleep, and Jude was invading her dream. Sam glanced to the open carriage door, her sister poking out, her head tilted to the side and her lips pursed.
No such luck; she had indeed arrived.
No matter how much she wished to return to her musings of moments before, it was impossible.
“Are you ill?” Jude demanded. “We can have you taken back home if you wish.”
Sam sat up straight and felt along the seat for her muff and handbag, her shawl was still draped across her shoulders. “Heavens no.” Sam moved to depart, and Jude stepped back to allow her room. “I am quite well, I assure you. And looking forward to a night at Covent Garden.”
“Very well.” Jude assessed her sister from head to toe. She often wondered if when her twin looked at her, she felt as if she was staring into a mirror. “My carriage awaits.”
Sam followed Jude to the Cartwright transport, glancing over her shoulder to see Simon standing by the conveyance. But Elijah was not in sight. Was it possible he’d turned down the invitation? Or more likely, Simon hadn’t extended the invitation at all.
An entire evening trapped with Jude and her doting new husband would be more than she could handle. Claiming ill did not seem the worst idea.
It was obvious Elijah had had his fill of her—and her antics.
Did Simon know it was Sam’s fault his phaeton lay abandoned on the road leading out of London?
His welcoming grin when she and Jude joined him said he did not.
This was a relief, but had Elijah taken the blame?
Had Simon and Elijah argued over the damaged carriage?
Had Eli been asked to leave the Cartwright townhouse?
Knowing she need take responsibility for her part in the incident, a rock settled in the pit of her stomach.
However, Simon would not look so…happy, if he and Elijah had indeed had a row over the phaeton.
“Shall we depart?” Simon asked, holding his hand out to his wife. “I find I am looking forward to the play.”
Jude swatted at his arm with a laugh. “You are in no way excited or so much as the least bit anxious to attend Covent Garden. You and Ridgefeld would have enjoyed spending the entire evening entrenched in a card game at White’s—or sorting ancient, dusty artifacts at the museum—much more.
” She wiggled her finger in his face. “The first rule of marriage is not to lie to your wife.”
Jude dropped a quick kiss to Simon’s cheek and took his arm.
Sam had to remind herself she was happy her sister had found a love match, a man who suited her perfectly in every way…even if their outward displays of affection had Sam dwelling on her own lack of connection to others.
A spot of movement caught Sam’s attention as they rounded the carriage.
Taking her eyes off her sister, she noted through the open door a figure already seated in the conveyance.
And any thought she had of claiming ill evaporated.
Elijah.
He smiled tentatively, something different about the set of his shoulders.
“Good evening, Lord Ridgefeld.” Sam’s smile was in no way timid. “I was unaware you’d be joining us.”
His furrowed brow told her he didn’t believe her words for a second.
“Yes, well,” Simon cut in. “My dear wife says it is only proper—and expected—our guest be invited to join us. She also says it would be rude on Ridgefeld’s part to turn down the invitation.
” He paused, looking to Jude for approval.
Her scowl conveyed her words were not meant to be shared.
“Anyways, here we all are. Two of us wishing to be anywhere else…”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Elijah, her question clear: did he wish to be anywhere else?