Authors: Diane Farr
Derek
’
s eyes never left her. She stared, unseeing, out the tiny window in the door beside her, but felt Derek
’
s unwavering gaze upon her whether she looked at him or no. His regard was so intense it seemed to heat her skin. She sensed that he was willing her to look at him, but she stubbornly refused to do so. It felt, to her, as if staring out the window were the last bit of defiance her wilting resolve could muster.
Occasionally the movement of the coach brought their knees into brief contact in the darkness. Every time it happened, a shock of sensation shot through her, hot and cold together, racing along her nerve endings. It made her shiver and burn. It curled her toes with some indescri
bable longing, an impulse to do
... what? She hardly knew, but whatever it was, it was wanton and wild
—
and stronger than she was, for she could not control it.
She could not make the sensation go away. She could not make it stop happening. She could not avoid the intermittent touch, and she could not suppress the way it made her feel. It awakened a peculiar craving in her, a craving to experience that unsettling shock, that shiver and burn, over and over. At first, she could not help grazing his knee with hers from time to time. But before long, she realized that she was deliberately provoking it, angling her body ever so slightly to increase the chances that a random bump in the road would throw Derek
’
s body into contact with her own.
When she realized what she was doing, a
hot
thrill flashed through her. Recognizing her wantonness should have caused her to repent of it. Perversely, it did the opposite. Her desire to touch him, once acknowledged, increased. And it instantly occurred to her that Derek must be doing the same thing: he must be touching her knee with his
deliberately
. Being Derek, he had doubtless been doing it deliberately all along. With her mother right there
—
and Lord Malcolm! How did he dare?
Why, it was
... exciting.
She could not resist. She had to test his audacity. How far would he go? Still staring disinterestedly out the window, she eased one slippered foot an inch or two forward. It may have been a tiny gesture, but her own brazenness thrilled her; she had never known that so much boldness lurked, unsuspected, in her heart.
It was doubly thrilling when, almost immediately, she sensed Derek responding to her advance, shifting his weight on the seat bench across from her. At the next rock of the carriage she felt his knee insinuate itself between hers
—
and the inside of his leg, knee to ankle, pressed lightly along her own.
She had never gues
sed how sensitive the flesh was
on the inside of her leg. The intimacy was shocking. All that separated them was a thin barrier of silk. She could feel the warmth of his flesh. She could sense the muscles in his calf. Her lips parted on a swift intake of breath, and her eyes, as if of their own volition, stopped obeying her will and surrendered to his. She turned her head and looked at him.
Their gazes met and locked.
Cynthia
felt her breath quicken. He was closer to her than she had thought. The divide between the two benches was narrow, and his limbs were long. His dark eyes were luminous in the dim, reflected light. His shirtfront glimmered in the near-darkness. He loomed across from her, as desirable as he was forbidden. Feverish fantasies scampered, unbidden, across her mind. Had they been alone, what might have happened?
The horses slowed. Light bloomed outside the coach. They were arriving. And still
Cynthia
could not tear her eyes from Derek
’
s. It was only when the coach rocked to a standstill that she woke from her trance, at least sufficiently to exit the vehicle and pick her way across the street to the assembly rooms. Once freed of Derek
’
s spell, she took care not to look at him again. Even so, the lingering effects of what had passed between them in the coach left her feeling drugged and strange, as if nothing around her were real. As if reality waited behind her, in the darkness, with Derek.
Standing in the foyer, waiting for a servant to take her shawl,
Cynthia
felt her mother tug on her elbow.
“W
hy, this is first-rate,
”
Mama whispered, sounding pleased.
“I
had no notion we would encounter so much elegance here.
”
Cynthia
, still feeling a bit shaken, murmured her assent. Her response had been automatic, but as she looked around her she found that what her mother said was true. The assembly rooms comprised most of the ground floor of a fairly modern-appearing building. It seemed to have been designed specifically to house such entertainments, since the rooms were large and well-lit, opening out of each other in a way that lent itself well to a public ball. There were small rooms on one side of the entry hall for cards, refreshments, and cloakrooms, and on the other side of the hall was a spacious ballroom. A flight of stairs ahead led to a mezzanine; this apparently opened out into a balcony or gallery above the ballroom floor.
Mama craned her neck, then tapped
Cynthia
on the arm with her fan.
“T
here is our party,
”
she said triumphantly, nodding to where Lord Grafton
’
s tall head could be glimpsed above the throng.
“C
ome along.
”
She began threading her way through the chattering people that crowded the hall and
Cynthia
obediently trailed behind her. They were leaving Lord Malcolm and Derek behind, but she supposed that was, on the whole, a good thing.
As they traversed the narrow room, Mama turned her head to issue last-minute instructions, in a lowered tone, over her shoulder.
“B
ear in mind, my love, that this is not Almack
’
s. We have no notion who most of these people are, and I daresay many of them are persons with whom we would not normally associate. You must dance only with members of our own party, or those whom the Chases introduce to you.
”
“Y
es, Mama.
”
“A
nd no more than two dances with any one gentleman, mind you. Not even the married ones.
”
“I
know, Mama.
”
“U
nless, of course, Mr. Ellsworth should happen to ask you for a third dance
—
but I cannot imagine him doing anything so improper.
”
“N
o, Mama.
”
There was not time for more; they had reached the corner where Lord and Lady Grafton were holding court. The presence of members of the Chase family had, inevitably, caused a stir. By the time Lady Ballymere and
Cynthia
reached them, Lord and Lady Grafton were surrounded, busily greeting and renewing their acquaintance with a steady stream of the local gentry.
Cynthia
’
s mother lost no time in attaching herself to Sir Peter and Lady Ellsworth, who were standing to one side of the mob, and engaging them in conversation.
“S
uch a press of people,
”
she remarked, smiling brightly at the Ellsworths.
“I
am glad to have a few
friends
among the crowd. I do not entrust my daughter into the hands of just anyone, you know; I insist she dance only with the men she has met at Oldham Park.
”
She looked significantly at John Ellsworth, including him in her smile.
“Y
ou are such a gallant group of gentlemen, I feel sure my
Cynthia
will not be left among the wallflowers.
”
Thus prompted, Mr. Ellsworth energetically agreed, voicing his opinion that it would be impossible for Lady
Cynthia
to be overlooked, even among their own small group. After a painful pause, during which Lady Ballymere stared expectantly at him, he solicited
Cynthia
’
s hand for the quadrille.
Cynthia
, naturally, accepted.
Apparently satisfied by the result of her labors,
Cynthia
’
s mother then drifted away, arm in arm with Lady Ellsworth, and left
Cynthia
to stand with Mr. Ellsworth and wait for the music to begin. It was rather awkward,
Cynthia
found. She had formed such a habit of ignoring men that it was difficult for her to unbend and converse naturally. And poor Mr. Ellsworth was, beneath his hearty bluster, as shy as she. They stood side by side, Mr. Ellsworth rocking on his heels and humming under his breath, looking about in a vague sort of way.
Cynthia
cleared her throat and ventured a remark.
“I
suppose they will begin with the quadrille,
”
she said.
“E
h? Oh, yes, yes. I fancy they will. It
’
s generally done, isn
’
t it? To begin with a quadrille.
”
In that case, our suffering will soon be over,
she wanted to say. She didn
’
t say it, of course. Another awkward pause ensued. Across the knots of people,
Cynthia
saw her mother
’
s reproving eyes upon her. She knew she had to make more of an effort. She turned to her companion but could not catch his eye; he was looking elsewhere.
“D
o you enjoy dancing, Mr. Ellsworth?
”
she aske
d loudly.
He glanced sideways at her, in the manner of a skittish horse.
“D
ancing? Enjoy it? Enjoy dancing?
”
She had evidently caught him at a loss. He gave a kind of gulp, then found his tongue.
“I
don
’
t mind it. One must dance, eh? Expected. I
’
m not a dab hand at it, mind you,
”
he added.
“N
ot the sort of chap who
—
that is, I
’
m not particularly
—
well, I
’
ve never been fond of
—”
“D
ancing,
”
she finished helpfully.
He appeared grateful.
“Y
es.
”
They were both palpably relieved when Hannah escaped the group that surrounded her parents and joined them. Her presence seemed to ease Mr. Ellsworth
’
s awkwardness as much as it did
Cynthia
’
s; he visibly relaxed and his affect became less forced. Hannah took John
’
s arm with one hand and
Cynthia
’
s arm with the other, and drew them from the foyer into the ballroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world that they should form a threesome.
“I
know it is horrid of me,
”
she confessed,
“
but I simply cannot
wait
to get away from here and back to London. I loathe being the center of attention, and every time we attend one of these local events we are mobbed.
”
“G
hastly,
”
said Mr. Ellsworth sympathetically. Then he smiled the most natural smile
Cynthia
had yet seen him wear.
“B
ut I daresay you would be mobbed tonight in any event, Lady Hannah. Never saw you look so pretty, upon my soul.
”
Hannah looked startled, and so thrilled that
Cynthia
was afraid that even Mr. Ellsworth could hardly fail to notice the heart pinned to Hannah
’
s sleeve. However, she had evidently underestimated the thickness of his skull. He gave no sign that he saw anything out of the ordinary in the glowing look Hannah threw him, nor in the pretty confusion his compliment cast her into. For a moment,
Cynthia
longed to box his silly ears. Then she remembered her role: she was not here to matchmake. She was here to steal hapless Mr. Ellsworth from her friend. That meant she must be
glad
that Mr. Ellsworth was dense.
Dep
ression settled on her spirits.
Her only consolation was that Hannah, surely, could do much better for herself than to marry John Ellsworth. She had to be
lieve that, at any rate
... she would go mad if she did not. Marriage to Mr. Ellsworth seemed, to
Cynthia
, a fate so dreary that only she deserved it. If she allowed herself to believe that Hannah might actually be
happy
with the man
... and that Mr. Ellsworth might, a
lso, find happiness with Hannah
... she would feel even meaner and more despicable than she already did.