Page 74 of One Perfect Dance
Left alone with Cordelia, Regina had blurted her plans for the evening, spoilt now that Elijah had gone out. To her surprise, Cordelia not only approved, but wanted to help. “You are betrothed,” she pointed out. “Besides, you are a widow, and there’s no need for your mother and your companion to hover over you as if you were a nervous maiden and Ashby a wicked rake.”
So here Regina was, counting doors until she reached the bedchamber assigned to Elijah then unlocking the door with the key Cordelia had provided and locking it again behind her.
“Wait for him in his room,” Cordelia had suggested. “And if all goes as you hope, do not worry about sneaking away in the morning. I will tell the servants assigned to that floor to stay away until he rings.” She frowned a little as she thought about that. “If you take a day dress with you, you can come to the nursery when you get up, and nobody will know where you have been.”
So much for being a widow, and therefore free to do as she pleased. However, Regina saw the point of not adding the gossip currently floating around the ton. She sent Annie off to bed early, told her not to come until Regina called for her, and lay down under her sheets to make the bed looked used.
Not that Annie would gossip about me. But still.
Elijah’s borrowed room had little of his personality in it. The bed was neatly made. One of the chairs by the fireplace had a book on the table next to it—A History of a Six Weeks’ Tour, by Mr. and Mrs. Shelley. Regina had read it, but preferred Elijah’s travel stories.
Behind a dressing screen, a few clothing items hung on hooks or were folded into baskets. A shaving set and hairbrush stood ready on the table next to the washstand.
None of the rest was personal, from the pleasant paintings on the wall to the finely crafted decanter and glasses on the sideboard. She could have been in any well-appointed guest chamber in England.
She wondered how long he would be. Where should she wait for him? And how? In her night attire and on the bed seemed presumptuous, though she did not think he would send her away.
Perhaps she should take a chair by the fire. Not the chair with the book. She sat on the chair opposite for a few minutes, then leapt up and poured herself a finger of brandy and returned to the chair. The brandy soothed, even as its fire heated her throat.
The fire had been banked for the night, but it had been a barmy day for April, and the bedchamber caught the evening sun. She was warm enough. Warmer still as she wondered about the night to come.
If her friends were anything to go by, she would enjoy it. Not that they discussed such private matters, but she had stayed in their houses. The frequent touching, the longing looks, the disappearances in the middle of the day and early departures for bed. She would have had to be far more innocent than she was and a complete fool not to know each couple enjoyed their marriage bed.
The women, as well as the men, for a glance from their husbands sent them blushing, glowing, and looking decidedly smug. Given the kisses and caresses she had shared with Elijah, she thought she knew why.
Perhaps she should have a second brandy. No. She did not want to be the worse for drink when Elijah arrived, and she did not have much of a head for spirits. How late would he be? Perhaps she should lie down on the bed. Surely, he wouldn’t mind? She could lie on the covers and remain fully clothed, so he did not feel that she was throwing herself at him.
She was throwing herself at him. Oh dear. Perhaps it was not too late to return to her room.
As if the thought had summoned him, she heard the sound of his key in the lock.
*
Ash was disappointed.
The magistrate had accepted Snowden’s excuses, evidence of good character, and pleas for clemency. “Boys of good family misled by a pair of villains,” was the verdict. They’d been dismissed into their parents’ custody with a sermon and a hefty fine.
The viscount had been made guardian to the orphaned Richard Deffew, which added weight to the suspicion that Deffew and Snowden had been close. However, Wakefield had been unable to prove any wrongdoing.
David Deffew had also cheated the hangman, by dying of his injuries earlier today. Snowden had used the fact in his argument for mercy, calling young Deffew alone in the world, bereft of all family.
Ash had arrived home hoping to spend time with Ginny, only to be told by Cordelia—as she walked off hand in hand with Deerhaven in the direction of the bedchamber they shared—that Regina had gone early to bed.
As he unlocked his bedchamber door, he hoped she would be up early for breakfast, so they might steal some minutes together before the Deerhavens appeared on the scene, before their separate transport arrived to take them away.
Preoccupied as he was, he still realized instantly that someone was in his room. It took him a moment to realize who it was, the floral fragrance that said “Ginny” to him turning his state of lethal awareness into a different kind of alertness altogether.
His eyes found her in one of his fireside chairs. “Ginny, my love. Is there something I can do for you? Did you want to know what the magistrate decided?”
Ginny shrugged. “I imagine he let them off,” she said, dismissively. “No. I wanted something else.”
Her face turned rosy red, hinting at thoughts that were dangerous to his fragile control.We are to marry in eight days.Where is the harm?Was that his intellect talking, or his body? In any case, he should be sure of his assumptions before he leapt on her.
In fact, given she was a virgin, leaping had better wait for a later occasion. After he had slowly and thoroughly seduced her, to the delight of them both.
He crossed the room and sat down in the chair opposite hers. “What is it you want, Ginny? Anything at all, and if it is in my power, it is yours.”
Her color deepened, and she stumbled over her words. “This is our last chance… We will be separating… I wanted…” She bit her lip.
