by Martha Keyes
Reaching her hand around his neck, she pulled his mouth down the final inches to hers, locking their lips together and forcing her heart back down into her chest as their mouths met.
He froze, his muscles as rigid and tight as hers, but the next second, one arm was around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Her senses filled with the scent of rose water, the touch of soft lips, and the sound of his breathing. A heat burned through the thin fabric of her dress where his hand rested on the small of her back, pressing her toward him.
And she forgot. She forgot that the kiss was for Matthew’s benefit. She forgot that it was to prove her mettle to Elias. She forgot that it was all part of revenge.
Responding to the insistent tug of Elias’s arm around her waist, she let him pull her toward him, and even though her body rested against his, it somehow didn’t feel close enough. Their mouths moved in concert, and Edith’s head swam.
She had always strived for strength around Elias, but just now, she felt malleable, like dough in his hands. And she could feel herself baking from the heat between them.
The door creaked, and they broke apart.
Matthew’s wide eyes and open-mouthed surprise met Edith’s stunned gaze. There was no acting involved in the shock she felt, and her chest heaved, as though she was trying to catch up with what had just occurred.
“I…I…” Matthew stuttered.
If Edith herself hadn’t been so entirely bemused, she would have laughed at her brother’s confusion. It was so perfectly what they had been hoping for. But all she could manage was wonder at the impossible speed at which her heart was beating and the way her lips tingled so that she had to resist pressing a hand to them.
She needed to pull herself together. It mattered what happened now.
“Elias was just helping extract a stubborn eyelash from my eye.” She blinked quickly, brushing a finger at her eye and looking to Elias to confirm her words.
He wasn’t even looking at Matthew, though. He was staring at her, his chest rising and falling just as hers was. He shut his mouth, pulling up a finger and squinting at it. “I believe I managed to get it. Yes, there it is.” He blew a quick breath at the finger and watched an imaginary eyelash float away.
Matthew said nothing, still staring at them for another pregnant moment. He swallowed. “Father should be down any moment.”
Edith stifled a victorious smile. Matthew didn’t believe their story for a second. And that was just as she wanted it to be.
“Perfect,” Elias said. “I have been starving this last hour and more.”
Matthew cleared his throat and nodded, disappearing from the room with a few mumbled, unintelligible words.
Edith’s skin tingled. They were alone again, and the kiss hung in the air, unavoidable, demanding to be acknowledged. But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—look at Elias and acknowledge what had happened. Instead, she followed Matthew from the room without even a backward glance.
Chapter Eleven
Elias waited to leave the library until his breathing slowed. The clock read six-forty-two, and he let out a long exhale, paying attention to the slow falling of his chest in order to occupy his mind, then followed behind Edith.
Perhaps it was for the best that he hadn’t more time to reflect on what had just happened.
What had just happened?
Edith Donne had kissed him. Of course he had taunted her past her ability to bear it—he knew that. But he had expected her to slap him, honestly, not kiss him. And certainly not kiss him like that.
He blinked, trying to right his vision, which swam every time he revisited the past few minutes.
It had been part of the act, nothing more. An impulsive, spur-of-the-moment decision prompted by the approach of Matthew.
Well, if that was the result of Matthew approaching, Elias couldn’t help wishing he’d approach more often.
He clenched his eyes shut, stopping at the drawing room door. He was being a fool, and he needed to rein it in before entering—before seeing her again. Their conduct would be under scrutiny by Matthew at the very least. And they still had to execute the second part of their plan for the evening. Providing Edith hadn’t changed her mind….
Had it really been so long since he’d kissed a woman for it to affect him so? It had been long. But surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten the feeling he’d just had in the library, hand tangled in Edith’s hair, body pressed against—
He shoved the door open. That was quite enough.
All eyes were on him, including those of Mr. Donne, who looked none too pleased to forfeit his place as last-into-the-drawing-room to Elias. Matthew was staring at him with a strange, stricken look, and Edith met his gaze with her color only slightly heightened. Had she thought better of their plan? Decided it wasn’t worth it?
But a few minutes later, when the company sat down for dinner, she took the chair beside him at the table. Elias hadn’t realized the tension he had been holding in his body until it relaxed at her approach.
She was at least not so angry that she had given up the ruse. Nor did it seem she was angry with him.
Or else she was a very good actress. Perhaps as good an actress as she was a kisser.
The execution of part two was expertly accomplished by Edith. It took every ounce of self-mastery for Elias to stifle the appreciative grin that rose to his lips when Edith slipped a folded note into his hand in the drawing room after dinner. It had all the appearance of subtlety, yet there was no doubt in Elias’s mind that Matthew had observed it.
For Matthew’s benefit, Elias let his eyes linger on Edith’s receding figure for a moment—her soft curves swaying slightly with each step—before tucking the note between his shirt and waistcoat.
She was a marvelous creature to behold. A feisty one, but certainly marvelous.
He put a hand to his waistcoat, reassuring himself that the note was still there. He was curious to know what, if anything, was written on it. No doubt it would be some pithy insult.
Edith reached the other side of the room, where Viola and Mercy were going through the collection of music available at the piano. She turned her head back toward Elias for the briefest of moments, her mouth pulling into the veriest hint of a smile, and her lashes quickly veiling the bewitching glint in her eyes.
The effect was to set Elias’s heart galloping. What was that about?
He shot a quick glance at Matthew. Ah, of course. Matthew’s gaze was fixed on Edith, and Elias averted his own gaze an instant before Matthew’s came to rest on him.
Edith was far too good at this.
While Elias had told himself he wouldn’t open the note until he retired to his room for the night, he found himself itching to pull it from his waistcoat during the time in the drawing room. Positioning himself in the back of the group as Mercy and Edith performed a number at the pianoforte, he slipped the note out and cringed as the crinkling seemed to reverberate through the room. He surveyed the others, but no one had noticed.
His gaze hovered on Edith, sitting at the piano, her eyes alternating between the sheet music and Mercy’s face, her mouth drawn into a joyful smile. They seemed to be performing a piece they had sung together many times before, and Elias stood transfixed, forgetting the note for a moment.
He had seen Edith in a rage. He had seen her indignant. He had seen her energized and victorious. But this was Edith at her most beautiful—spilling over with badly controlled laughter whenever she or Mercy made a mistake, the skin around her sparkling eyes wrinkled with joy.
The song ended, and Elias realized he was still holding the folded note, his mouth pulled into an unconscious smile. He swallowed and hurried to open it.
It was blank.
He would have almost rather it contained some insulting jibe—any acknowledgment of what had happened in the drawing room. But either the kiss had been so unexceptional as to merit no remark, or Edith had chosen to pretend it never happened. She had certainly acted as though nothing
out of the ordinary had occurred, walking out of the library without a word or a glance.
The thought crept into Elias’s thoughts unsolicited: had Edith kissed other men that way?
His stomach clenched, and he tucked the note away again.
He had to admit that Matthew’s reactions to their plan were every bit as humorous as he had hoped they would be. True to what Edith said, Matthew looked dismayed, troubled even, by the interactions he witnessed between the pretended lovers. Elias was convinced that Matthew had managed to communicate at least some of what he had seen to the others, for their eyes seemed to follow him and Edith more frequently than usual.
When Elias noted it, he took pains to concoct a few of his own little confirmatory gestures—a hand held a moment too long, a gaze too pointed, anything to make them wonder what beast they had unwittingly created.
Edith had of course noticed the scrutiny as well, and she sent him more than a few lashed glances over the course of the evening, the perfect combination of subtle but speaking. Elias found himself thoroughly enjoying the dance they were leading—even if it did set his heart pattering in earnest—and by the end of the night, he was halfway to convincing himself that the kiss he had shared with Edith didn’t matter. It meant nothing. It was merely a means to an end that promised to be deliciously triumphant. They had made it convincing because it needed to be.
The next day dawned gray, with large, rolling clouds making their way across a sunless sky. It was a bit of a dreary backdrop for a day promising to be full of excitement, but Elias didn’t let it bother him. He hoped to avoid Matthew as long as he possibly could, for he suspected that it wouldn’t be long before Matthew confronted him about what had happened the night before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle such a confrontation.
He asked for breakfast to be brought to his room, but he couldn’t avoid going downstairs altogether when he and Edith weren’t set to leave until midday. He would venture outside for a stroll in hopes of avoiding Matthew a bit longer.
It was with tight-jawed consternation that he saw Matthew at the base of the stairs—almost as if he had been waiting for Elias.
He greeted his friend with as regular a manner as he could, but it wouldn’t do. There was obvious purpose in Matthew’s eyes.
“Eli.” Matthew took him by the arm, pulling him into the library. That hint of vanilla, mingled as it was with the smell of books, wafted around them, taking Elias back to the night before.
He had to concentrate.
“What the devil is going on between you and Edith?”
Right to it, then.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Dash it, Eli! Don’t play the fool with me. I caught you kissing her. Kissing my sister. Right here!” He pointed an impassioned finger at the floor. “Not to mention looking like a lovelorn buffoon in the drawing room last night while she played the piano.”
“I did not!” The words escaped him involuntarily. Out of all the play-acting he and Edith had done last night, Matthew chose to point out the one part of the evening when Elias hadn’t been acting.
“Yes, I know,” Matthew said dismissively. “Helping her with an eyelash! Is that what people are calling it nowadays?” He shoved his finger into Elias’s chest. “Stay away from my sister, Eli! I happen to care about her, and I know your views on women too well to sit by while you lead her on some silly dance for your own enjoyment.”
Elias was momentarily bereft of speech. He had taken pains over the years to keep up appearances—flirting with women and even concocting stories of short liaisons to appease his friends—anything to stop questions about his plans to marry. Well, clearly, he had been successful in his aims. Matthew thought him incapable of anything but dalliance and cynicism when it came to women.
Perhaps that was for the best—whatever could inspire Matthew with a determination not to allow Elias and Edith to form an alliance.
“Your sister has proven herself more than capable of fending off unwanted suitors.”
Matthew shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “She takes pains to appear that way, but I know better.” He jabbed Elias in the chest again, punctuating each word. “Leave her alone.” And with a slamming of the door, he was gone.
It was exactly what Elias should have wanted, and yet the encounter had jarred him.
Edith was nowhere to be seen during the morning hours, and it was with the assumption that she would have sought him out if anything had changed that Elias began packing a few things—a change of clothes, fresh cravats, and a few other items he imagined a man eloping would take with him. It needed to look convincing if Matthew came charging into his room, looking for evidence of the elopement.
Just before noon, a note was brought to Elias’s room by one of the maids.
Meet me at the stables at half-past.
His lip tugged up at the corner. The day promised to be very much out of the ordinary. He felt jumpier than usual—the prospect of spending the afternoon with Edith was equal parts enticing and unnerving. Would she bring a maid with her? They would only be gone a few hours, but he trusted she had taken all the necessary precautions to avoid any hint of scandal that might be attached to their spending time in a closed carriage. Though, to be fair, anyone who had witnessed their kiss in the library the day before couldn’t be blamed for making assumptions.
No, having a maid in the carriage would be for the best. It would keep Elias from his persistent curiosity. He had been wondering what it might have been like if Matthew had given Edith and him another minute—or five—to…search for the eyelash.
A little rumble of thunder filled the darker skies in the distance—the area not far from Wooldon, Elias’s own estate—as Edith arrived at the stables, followed at a discreet distance by her shy maid, who carried a trunk. Edith wore a pleasant expression, carrying herself with an energy that told Elias she was looking forward to the prospect before her.
“So, you didn’t lose your nerve,” she said as she approached.
“Nor you your imagination.”
Another rumble of thunder sounded, a bit louder than the last. He looked up at the sky. “Though perhaps it would be wise to postpone this adventure until tomorrow—to ensure its success.”
She raised a brow at him, as though he had just proven her point about losing his nerve. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The trunk was taken from the maid and hefted by the driver into the box behind the chaise. “It is today or never. My father will return this evening, and then the window of opportunity will be firmly shut. Besides, the gloom will not only add to the impending doom my brother and cousins feel upon reading my note, but it will lay to rest any questions they have about how earnest we are.”
Elias pursed his lips, hesitant to make himself sound worried about a bit of rain.
Edith glanced at him, tilting her head to the side. “You mustn’t mind the clouds in the south. The worst weather always follows the coastline.”
“Very true.” He assisted her into the chaise, following behind her maid with a slight fluttering of nerves.
It was time to elope.
Chapter Twelve
Edith smiled as the chaise left the courtyard of Shipton House. In twenty short minutes, her note would be delivered to Matthew, and chaos would ensue. She was only sad she wouldn’t be there to witness it.
“Your brother took it upon himself to warn me, you know.”
She looked to Elias curiously. “Did he?”
He nodded, and a smile grew on his face. “He seems to think you far more vulnerable than you appear, and he sternly warned me to leave you be.”
She scoffed, but there was affection in her amused smile. “Matthew has always feared himself the weaker sibling. If it makes him feel better to believe that I am secretly a helpless kitten, then” —she shrugged— “so much the better. It will be all the more amusing when he arrives at the inn and realizes his role of protector was entirely unnecessary. Speaking of which, we have a few details
to discuss.”
She glanced at Susan beside her, but the maid’s head was slumped over against the side of the chaise. Whether her fast-achieved sleep was pretended or authentic, Edith didn’t know, but she was grateful for it, either way. Of necessity, Susan would be aware of the general plan, but Edith had no desire to add fuel to the fire of the servant gossip that would no doubt rage upon their return later that day. Better Susan than any of the other servants, though. She was a timid creature—and never more so than when she was with Edith. She would likely fear Edith’s sharp tongue if it became known that she had spread information.
Edith shifted in her seat so that she was sitting forward, her gaze as close to level with Elias’s as possible. He leaned in, ready to listen, and the image of his face inches from her own flashed across her mind. She thrust it away.
“We will need to wait at the inn in Ilmarsh for a time while whoever comes after us catches up. In that twenty or thirty minutes, we will need some explanation for our situation—or names at least that convey that we are related. We are unlikely to encounter anyone of note there, truthfully. I have instructed us to be driven to The Old Dog and Pheasant. It is generally passed over in favor of The George in the village just before it.”
“Hardly any wonder, I think, with a name like that,” Elias said with a chuckle.
Edith ignored his comment. “I have no desire to test how discreet the servants at The Old Dog are, though. I think we should use false names.”
Elias nodded thoughtfully. “What will it be, then? Ned and Wilhelmina Myerscough, brother and sister?” He grinned.
She gave him an unamused tip of the eyebrow. “I shall keep my first name, thank you. But I think it might occasion less comment if we go under the guise of a married couple.” Why in heaven’s name were her ears and cheeks beginning to burn? “Whoever comes after us—I expect Matthew at least—will likely storm into the inn, inquiring after an eloping couple, and if we have given the story that we are brother and sister, it is likely to draw even more unwanted attention.”
