Regency Rogues: A Winter's Night: The Winterley Scandal / The Governess Heiress. Elizabeth Beacon
first one Louburn, then the other back into the ruin they had made of a once-elegant room and locked the door on them, then pocketed the key with an exasperated sigh.
‘Well, I told you not to look,’ he said gruffly as he straightened his domino and handed her one he must have found in that rogues’ den the Louburns had made of their brother-in-law’s home, along with a far prettier mask than the one that hid most of Carter’s thoughts from her right now and made his eyes look even more intriguing when he stared down at her as if he wanted to read all the confused thoughts and feelings scurrying about in her reeling head. Not that she could afford to be intrigued by the man, she reminded herself hastily, as she numbly put on her new disguise and wondered what disaster they should expect next.
‘I wasn’t… Well, no, that’s not quite right, I’m not…’
You were not what, Eve? her inner critic mocked. Not shocked, not awed and feeling a little bit breathless at the power and deadly purpose of the true man under Mr Carter’s pretend humility? Not secretly longing for him to repeat that kiss with interest added on to say thank you for saving you from the worst of his kind and that you did rather like it the first time?
‘Never mind what you are or are not right now. How the deuce are we going to find your little sister or cousin or whatever it is you two call one another in this bear garden?’
‘Oh, yes, Verity,’ she murmured, still so off balance from that kiss and his heroics afterwards she had almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. ‘She has no idea aping Caro Lamb in breeches could get her into far more trouble than if she came dressed as an opera dancer,’ she blurted out Verity’s disgraceful disguise and heard him groan even above the din of excited chatter and laughter and the orchestra desperately trying to be heard above it all in the ballroom at the end of this side corridor.
‘Oh, good, now we only need to find the next riot and suppress it, then lock up the rest of the Louburn family and get out of here without being recognised, then we should all be able to go home and sleep serenely as if we never left our beds in the first place,’ he said with such irony and an angry glare that seen through the filter of his dark mask looked almost fearsome, except he was also looking rather deliciously mysterious, flighty Eve pointed out helpfully. ‘The girl is obviously not fit to be let out without a keeper,’ he growled and she sighed to oblige that silly version of herself and wondered if he might be persuaded to visit a more sedate masquerade with her if she asked him very nicely.
Ridiculous idea, her sterner inner self pointed out, and she tried hard to concentrate on what he’d said instead of feeling prickles of something that must be forbidden slide down her spine at the sound of his voice so gruff and dark and the stern glint of his eyes through that mask. She shivered, although for some reason she was incredibly warm, and even that didn’t seem to put all these wicked ideas out of her mind and certainly did nothing for her rebellious body.
‘She is only fifteen,’ she said as if that ought to explain everything and she struggled with the fact her grip on this misadventure seemed to have slipped and she was following him like a meek little acolyte behind a high priest, or a besotted girl after the man she thought was the love her life.
If not for Verity, she would be quite content to drift among the elegant chaos of this rather wild party and feel deliciously daring yet utterly safe in the company of a tall, dark and compelling man of mystery. Mr Carter always wore a disguise, she decided; she doubted he ever let the world see the real man, even if he could afford clothes the dandies of the ton wouldn’t shudder to be seen standing next to. Yes, if not for Verity she would be quite happy to stay until too close to midnight and run the tempting risk of being caught in the least desirable company the Honourable Miss Winterley could find herself in if she tried.
She hardly recognised the cool and controlled Eve Winterley she had made herself become when she realised how eagerly the ton was waiting for her to turn into her mother. The female clutching Carter’s strong hand as if he was her rock and only chance of safety in a sea full of storms was a stranger. So much for not relying on a man to make her feel strong; for never looking for all the things her mother spent her life longing for. Eve still didn’t want a man’s unconditional surrender, or constant proof he worshipped her like some pagan goddess. The very idea made her shudder with revulsion, but a mutual surrender to something more than the coolly logical marriage she had thought she wanted seemed so very desirable right now it felt sinful. At least she understood that raw state of wanting a little better after his heady kiss and the shock of seeing Carter the fighting man emerge from the shadows. Another mask, she decided as the music and wild laughter got even louder. How many disguises could one man wear and not lose his true self?
‘Eve…’ The desperate whisper came before someone noticed she and Carter were standing on the fringes of this wild party and came to find out who was hiding under their ingenious disguises.
If they weren’t careful they’d be seen by too many curious eyes under the glow of what looked like a thousand candles in the noisy ballroom ahead of them and someone might recognise her. Eve could just see the curtains of an alcove off the corridor they were almost at the end of and thanked heavens they had not had to brave the full glare of the crowd ahead to search for her almost cousin.
‘Verity?’ she whispered sharply. ‘What the deuce are you doing here?’ she asked, hoping the boy who carelessly drew a fifteen-year-old girl into this rowdy chaos didn’t come to find out if she had turned up for an assignation she was far too young to understand.
‘I was looking for a way out,’ Verity said, looking very pale and deeply shocked by what she had seen so far, as well as a bit woebegone.
Perhaps this latest escapade had overwhelmed even her high spirits and it would make her think twice about trying to run before she was ready to walk in so-called polite society. Eve couldn’t think it very polite, or even glamorous after this circus herself, so maybe letting Verity see the dark side of it all wasn’t such a bad idea, if they could only get her out of here relatively unscathed and with her reputation intact, despite Rufus Louburn’s worst efforts.
‘At least you have done one sensible thing tonight, then,’ Eve whispered sharply, not inclined to be disarmed after what she and Mr Carter had already been through on this little madam’s behalf.
‘Leave her be for now, you can scold her once we have all got safely away,’ Carter cautioned softly. ‘And let’s hope we don’t have to go back the way we came. Those two drunken idiots could be awake and howling for revenge on us by now,’ he murmured in her ear. She stifled a giggle as he managed to make a joke of what could have been a vicious struggle for more than she wanted to think about right now.
‘Ah, I thought so. I knew there had to be more than one back stairway down to the vast basement there must be under the house,’ he whispered as a jib door Eve hadn’t even thought to look out for opened under his probing fingers and showed her once again that he was a lot more composed than she was after that earth-shaking kiss. It had seemed about to make her world anew for a wild moment and perhaps it was only one on a long list of such sweet encounters for him. Didn’t soldiers have a sweetheart in every town they passed through? The contrast between dashing Mr Carter of the 95th Rifles and the shabby clerk she’d met that night at Derneley House made her wonder if there might be other versions of this complex man for her to discover, if she dared to look.
At least the narrow stair he’d found was lit by the occasional ensconced candle, she saw with a shudder. The bareness and gloom behind the narrow door made her feel as if the walls might press in on her, but this was what maids endured every day of their lives so their employers could enjoy the privacy and luxury of nigh invisible service. If she and Verity had been born to poverty they might be the ones labouring every hour God sent at this very moment; enduring the insecurity and danger that went with being young and female in such a household. Instead they were stumbling down the bare wooden stairs in Mr Carter’s wake and Eve couldn’t let her fear show with Verity between them