Chapter Thirteen
El was not in the refreshment room, or in the entrance hall, or the room where those who did not wish to dance played card games or threw dice.
She had not been in the ballroom since she’d followed Malvern to the gardens, and when Benedict had searched for sight of her there, she’d been nowhere to be seen.
He could only think she was somewhere she ought not to be, and if she were with bloody Malvern, and he had his hands on her, discovering for himself the addicting taste of her mouth and the arousing moans and gasps she made, he would—
Forcing his hands to unclench, he exhaled steadily.
He had no claim on her, and none more than any who were privileged to be her friend.
This was what she wanted, bloody Malvern as her lover.
If tonight was the first step toward that, then he should be happy for her.
It was only not two hours ago, his touch had made her shudder, her moans and gasps had been for him. And now she was with bloody Malvern.
Setting his jaw, he cast his gaze over the ballroom again.
He’d seen the wisdom in separating before they had arrived at the Downeys’ townhouse, but he’d wanted to stay with her, to hold her hand and caress her fingers with his as they pulled into the drive.
He’d wanted to help her descend and walk into the townhouse with her hand on his arm and have all of society know how proud he was to be at her side, but he couldn’t bloody do that, could he? Because they were only ever friends.
He should do another sweep of the ballroom, make certain she was not hiding behind a plinth or one of the enormous potted plants Lady Downey had for some reason chosen to decorate her ball.
It could be she had slipped back into the ballroom, and it could be she would want to speak of her time with the earl, her eyes bright and her mouth red and, Christ, he had to stop thinking on that or he would bloody break someth—
“Has a young lady caught your eye?”
Bloody hell, he’d forgotten Lady C stood at his side.
A small curve to her lips, she regarded Amanda as she danced with a young lord, his niece’s expression wreathed in excitement.
“There are several suitable ladies here this evening,” she continued.
“You would do well to approach one of them.” She glanced at him.
“Your brother is quite determined you will at least be affianced, Benedict.”
He made a non-committal noise. The Earl had said nothing further, but he’d been subjected to heavy stares and pointed looks, deliberate shakes of newspapers at the breakfast table.
His brother had never been subtle and he was used to his demands being met.
“Amanda looks quite well with Lord Horne,” he said instead.
Lady C frowned. “You could at least choose a lady to escort to the dance floor. Perhaps you might find you like her.”
“Do you think Lord Horne will come to call tomorrow?”
“You can avoid this with me all you like, Benedict, but you know Colgrove will not be so easily dissuaded.” Lady C sighed. “If Amanda says she likes him, then I hope he does.”
He hummed his agreement, ignoring Lady C’s look of concern as he again searched the crowd for El.
His gaze sharpened as she appeared, rushing through the doors leading to the gardens.
She was not followed by Malvern and she did not appear flushed or mussed, or how she’d looked after he’d licked and devoured her, after she’d thrown her head back, her hand gripping his head, her chest heaving as she arched and shook—
Need rippled through him. Bloody hell, he had to get a hold of himself. These breeches hid nothing, and he would rather not put himself on display before a crowd only too eager to gossip.
El had paused just inside the ballroom, her gaze searching until she found him. He forced a smile, raising a brow in query, trying to portray support even though he really wanted to find Malvern and pummel him a bit.
Her expression lit with determination and she strode straight for him, not allowing anyone to impede her progress. “I need to talk with you,” she said upon reaching him.
So focused on him, she clearly did not realise Lady C stood at his side. “Good evening, Lady Eleanor,” he said loudly.
El’s brows drew. “Benedict—”
“Lady C, Eleanor is here,” he continued.
Her eyes widened, then darted to Lady C. Colour lit her cheeks. “Oh. Yes. Hello, Lady C.” She bobbed a curtsey.
Lady C did not comment, instead offering Eleanor a serene smile. “Eleanor, how lovely you are here. Did you come from the gardens just now?”
“I did. I, um, required some fresh air.”
“Yes, it is quite the crush, is it not?” Her brow lifted. “Were you out there alone? I do not see Lady Kiloughlan.”
“No, she has returned to Scotland. I was…” El’s cheeks reddened further.
“That is, I was, um, alone. But only for a moment, for I saw another acquaintance and I spent quite some time discussing with her this evening’s entertainments and I believe I shall meet her in the games room later on, after supper perhaps, and then I realised I had not yet greeted Benedict—or you, of course—and so I came back to the ballroom and now I have greeted you both.
” She gave an unnatural laugh, too high pitched and completely unlike her.
“Hmm,” Lady C said.
Damnation. Lady C always knew when El attempted prevarication. Luckily, he was much better at pulling the wool over Lady C’s eyes, and it had always been he who had talked them out of trouble when they’d been children. “El, did you not say earlier you wished to discuss
El frowned. “When would I have said that, Benedict? It was not in the carria—”
“Earlier, El. This afternoon. You sent a note?” He hoped beyond all hope she would realise what he was saying.
“Oh. Oh! Yes. This afternoon. I did send that note.”
“We must away, Lady C. You will be well here?”
Eyes merry, Lady C bit back a smile. “Yes, dears. I shall watch Amanda and be quite well.”
“Excellent.” Taking El’s elbow, he led her from the ballroom. “You are the worst at falsehoods, El.”
“I cannot help it,” she moaned as they passed through the doors to the gardens. “Lady C looks at me and all I can think is she knows.”
“You know she does not actually know? There is no way she could, not unless you tell her?”
El was still shaking her head. “How can I have thirty years of age and yet still be cowed by the very notion I may have disappointed Lady C?”
“It is her power.” Stopping in a relatively secluded spot, he turned to her. “What is it that is so important it could not wait?”
The misery bled from her expression. Glancing around them, she gauged how far others meandered from them and, seemingly satisfied with the distance, announced, “The Earl of Malvern is engaged to the dowager Viscountess Rocksley.”
A roaring started in his ears. “I beg your pardon?” he said politely.
“You heard me.”
“Malvern is engaged? To be wed?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Benedict. To be wed.”
“But…” His brain would not work. “He was to be your lover.”
“It appears he has made other arrangements.”
He still could not wrap his head about this. Bloody Malvern was bloody engaged to be bloody wed? “How do you know this?”
Her cheeks went red. “We do not need to discuss how I know.”
She would not meet his eyes. This could only be a corker of a story. “You cannot say that and not tell me, El.”
“I can.”
“El, you cannot leave me in suspense. You must tell me.”
“I— They…” She ducked her head. “I…saw them.”
He frowned. “You saw them? What were they doing?”
“They… Benedict. Do not make me say it.”
Her cheeks were now a flaming red. Christ. This must be good. “Were they kissing?”
“Of a kind.”
Of a kind? What did she mean by th— Oh. His lips twitched. “Was it similar to the kissing we did in the carriage?”
She would not look at him. “Yes. It was exactly like that.”
He struggled not to smile. Good for them. And, Christ, good for El and her little voyeuristic heart. “You watched them?”
“It is your fault!” she burst out. “You made it feel so good, and I could see the viscountess was enjoying it, and the earl was clearly as good at it as you are, and then I—” She scowled. “You are horrid.”
He started to laugh. “Oh, Christ, El. Your face.”
Scowl darkening, she punched him in the arm.
Rubbing the spot she punched, he sobered. “I am sorry, El.”
“Sorry? Why?”
He forced the words out. “Because the man you chose as your lover wants someone else.”
She was silent a moment. “Thank you for saying that,” she said softly.
He nodded sharply.
“But Benedict…” She sighed. “I do not think I ever truly wished him to be my lover.”
Something inside him leapt. “Oh?”
She shook her head. “No, I think…” She took a breath and then raised her gaze to his. “I want you.”
Everything in him froze. “Pardon?”
“Benedict,” she said, a small smile playing about her luscious mouth. “I want it to be you.”
He could not speak. He was without speech. She had managed to steal his very breath from his lungs and render him unable to conjure a single word.
Her smile dimmed, her expression turning uncertain. “Unless, of course, you do not wish to be. I would never expect you—”
He started toward her only to stop, frustrated.
They were in full view of all of society.
He could not take her in his arms and kiss her as he wanted, with gratitude and passion and longing and need.
Christ, so much need. Cursing under his breath, he curled his hands into fists so he would not reach for her. “El,” he rasped. “I want that, too.”
The corner of her mouth tipped up. “You do?”
The vulnerability in those two words was staggering. “So much.”
Her smile was blinding.
Craving hit him in the gut, tensing his muscles and hardening his cock. “When?”
“Tonight?”
Christ, yes.
Laughter spilled into the air. Bloody hell. They were at a bloody ball, surrounded by Society. He forced himself to think, but it was damned hard when all the blood in his body had rushed to his cock. “We cannot do this here. We must have a bed. Your first time should be in a bed.”
She glanced at the house. “There are beds here.”
He shook his head. “I want to take my time, and… It should be special. Your first time should be special.”
“It is already special, Benedict. It shall be with you.”
Christ, she undid him. Rubbing his chest, he searched her face. “Are you certain, Eleanor?”
Her eyes widened. “I cannot remember the last time you called me Eleanor when it is just us.”
He could not either, but she had to know how serious he was. In the carriage, it had been flash and desire but now… It could be she had been swept up, that she had made a decision she would regret. “You must tell me if you are uncertain. You must not regret this, El.”
Her smile was soft. “I am certain, Benedict. I would never regret anything I did with you. I want you.”
He wanted her, too. He wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, to learn the shape of her body, to feel her softness beneath his hands, and he wanted the privacy to do it— “Caraney House. My brother has offered me Caraney House should I—” Bloody hell, don’t mention your brother’s asinine demand you end the season wed now.
“Caraney House is empty and mine.” As she would be. Christ, she would be his.
Her smile languorous, her eyes heated, she said, “Then let us make haste to Caraney House.”
Yes. Let them make haste.
He held out his hand. And she took it.