He took a long draw on the ale in his tankard, and she watched the movement of his throat as he tipped his head back slightly. Even that seemed sensual.
Pulling her gaze away, she raised her own tankard to her lips. The taste was bitter, nothing like the brandy.
Her face must have shown she was not sure she enjoyed it because his lordship gave a short laugh. “You’ve never had ale, Olivia?”
The sound of her name on his lips shouldn’t have sent a wave of warmth through her, but it did. “No. Never. It’s more bitter than I expected. Nothing like the brandy.”
“Would you prefer a brandy instead?”
She shook her head and took another sip, worried the brandy might go to her head faster than the ale.
The boisterous song ended, and the room exploded with applause. Two men helped the woman down from the table she’d been dancing on.
A man who sat at a table near the stage stood and announced the next act.
“Who is he?” Olivia asked, motioning to the fellow.
“They call him the chairman.”
A man dressed in a white shirt with billowing sleeves and a small red cap on his head stepped onto the stage with an accordion and played an upbeat tune. The sound of chairs being pushed back as people stood resonated in the air. Men holding the hands of their dance partners moved to the rear of the hall. Those not dancing clapped and stomped their feet in time to the music.
Olivia couldn’t help her own foot from tapping to the beat.
“Will you honor me with a dance, Olivia?” Lord Anthony asked.
Her breath caught in her throat. Dance? She had only danced the waltz with the other girls at the orphanage. They had hummed the music low, since Vicar Finch had not approved of the partnered dance, even though it had been accepted in society decades ago. She’d never heard music like this before or seen this fast-paced dance.
He bent close to her. Once again, his breath touched her ear. “Release those shackles, Olivia. Dance with me.”
Shackles? She’d released them far more than he knew. She wanted to dance. “I don’t know this dance, and I might step on your toes.”
“It’s a polka. Very simple. I’ll guide you.” He held out his hand for hers.
She placed her palm against his.
His fingers wrapped about hers—warm and reassuring. The touch caused her belly to flutter. Unlike her, he seemed unaffected. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering how many women his hands had touched. How many women had he caressed?
She pushed her thoughts away and bit her lower lip as they made their way to the rear of the hall to where couples swirled around to the fast-paced music.
Her heart beat a rapid tattoo as she listened to Lord Anthony explain the steps.
“Place your left hand on my shoulder,” he said as he set his right hand to her back and pulled her close. He grasped her other hand and extended it outward. “Just follow my lead.”
He led her around the room. Before she knew it, she was grinning broadly as they moved across the floor in a hop and step fashion with the others. The room almost vibrated with the excitement of the dancers and those singing to the tune.
The song came to an end and the accordion player started another rousing tune.
Without missing a beat, the dancers continued.
Lord Anthony raised a brow, silently asking her if she wished to dance to this song as well.
She gave a quick nod, and once again they moved with the flow of those on the dance floor.
Olivia’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“You are doing rather splendidly. You’ve not stepped on my toes once.”
“Be careful what you say. The dance is not over.”
He laughed—a deep, jovial sound that made her feel as light as the atmosphere.
When the song finished. Lord Anthony set both his hands on her waist and swung her in the air, laughing. As he lowered her the front of her breasts brushed against the hard surface of his chest, the same way it had in the office.
Every nerve within her tingled.
Anthony took her hand in his, and they weaved through the crowded tables.
“You dance wonderfully,” he said as they neared the table.
She turned around. “I think I almost tripped you, Lor—”
Before she could finish her words, his large hand slipped around the back of her neck bringing her mouth to his.
The press of his lips absorbed the rest of his name.
Chapter Thirteen
For a minute, Olivia’s head spun with confusion as his lordship’s mouth met hers, in a firm and demanding kiss. But then she realized she had started to address him as Lord Anthony where any of the other patrons might have overheard.
Was that why he was kissing her?
Of course it was, yet her mind discarded that knowledge to center itself on the physical pleasure—the warmth of his lips as they moved against hers in a way that made her want to react. She felt lost, almost overwhelmed by the sensations drifting through her.
The kiss did not solely affect her mouth, but her whole body tingled with awareness.
Without further contemplation, she pressed herself closer and slid her hands over the hard planes of his chest. Not to push him away but to experience the feel of his strong muscles beneath her palms.
Slowly his mouth left hers, but not before he tugged her lower lip between his own lips as if savoring their kiss.
His intense gaze settled on her face, and she wondered if the potency of the kiss had startled him as much as it had her.
He retreated a fraction, and she realized that though his one hand drifted away from her nape, the other still pressed at the small of her back. A warm touch that was both intimate and comforting.
His gaze dipped to her mouth, and he leaned close.
For a brief second in time, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Anticipation swirled through her, and the beat of her heart, which was finally returning to a semblance of normalcy, quickened again. But instead his mouth moved to her ear.
“Forgive me, Olivia,” he whispered, “but I couldn’t have you addressing me as you were about to. As I said, one against three hundred isn’t fair odds.”
Suddenly, she realized that the hum of conversation had grown louder around where they stood.
A man whistled.
“You’re a lucky lad, Tony,” a man called out, his Irish accent unmistakable.
Heat warmed Olivia’s face.
With his hand still on her back, Anthony prompted her to their table. His hand curled over the top of her chair, and he pulled it back with a quick jerk, causing the legs to make a scraping noise against the wooden floor.
Was he suddenly angry? Unsure what to say, she peered at the chairman, who was announcing a comedian. Feeling she needed to say something, she turned to him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
He gave a low laugh. “Olivia, do not fret over it. I’m not as sorry as I ought to be for kissing you.”
She thought he would grin. That his last words were nothing more than a way to lighten the mood, but he looked as serious as a mourner in a procession.
Did he honestly mean what he’d said? Had he enjoyed it as much as she had? She should look away, but she felt all flummoxed inside. Her stomach clenched as if danger grew near, or as if she had leapt from one ledge to another and nearly lost her balance. Yet, she realized it was not a sense of danger that made her feel that way but a mixture of pleasure and lust. She’d enjoyed the kiss. Tremendously.
With his gaze directed on the stage, she studied Anthony’s handsome face—his square jaw, the slightly curved arch of his brows, and his sensual mouth that had touched hers. Without thought, she pressed her fingers to her lips. They still tingled. She doubted he knew that was her first kiss.
During the next hour, several different performers took to the stage, including an acrobat. At present, another comedian was on the stage. The fellow told several jokes at the exp
ense of the nobility. Olivia was surprised to see Anthony grinning. He chuckled—a low sound that caused a shiver to travel up her spine.
When another accordion player took to the stage and began a rousing tune as fast-paced as the one they’d danced to, Anthony asked if she would honor him.
Honor him? A man of his station using such a word toward her seemed foreign. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his and they joined the other dancers.
They did the same hop and step moves. Once again, she smiled until her cheeks hurt. Had she ever smiled so much? She could not recall. Though she had enjoyed teaching the girls at the orphanage, it was a repressed pleasure—it was such a somber atmosphere at the orphanage that when she laughed too hard, there was always Vicar Finch to make her aware of it. Being this carefree was a novelty. After several songs, the chairman stood to announce another comedian.
She and Anthony had just reached the table when the double doors that led from the pub to the music hall burst wide open. Several policemen rushed into the room.
A cacophony of sounds resonated in the air. Screams, the scraping of chairs against the wooden floors as people quickly stood, the sound of some toppling backward, the policemen’s whistles.
“Bugger it. We need to get out of here,” Anthony said over the chaotic noises. He took her hand in his and they made their way to the stage. Like a gazelle, his lordship leapt onto it, then turned around and reaching under her arms, he lifted her onto the platform. She glanced over her shoulder to see some of the patrons fighting with the policemen and others being struck by the bobbies’ billy clubs as they resisted being dragged out of the music hall.
“Come, Olivia,” Lord Anthony said, talking over the commotion. “It won’t serve either of us well to be carted down to the police station.”
With her hand still tightly gripped in his, they made their way through the area behind the stage where a warren of passages seemed to spread outward like a spider’s legs. They moved left, then right. Ahead she saw a door. It burst wide open and two policemen rushed through it.
Lord Anthony pushed her through an open doorway before the bobbies spotted them. Quietly, he closed the door and slid the metal latch into place.
The room was almost pitch dark, except for the shafts of moonlight seeping through a grime-covered window that was set high in the wall. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Olivia saw crates of bottled liquor stacked around the perimeter.
His lordship released her hand, climbed up on the crate below the window, and unlocked it. He pushed the lower sash upward, causing more moonlight to illuminate the tiny room.
“Olivia, we must move fast!” He held out his hand for hers.
In the corridor, she could hear policemen banging on doors. She took his hand and stood next to him. The window looked over a side alley.
“No one is out there, but for how long who knows. I’ll boost you up.” He leaned down and locked his hands together, forming a stirrup.
She placed her foot into his cradled hands, grabbed the sill, and hoisted her body upward.
The noise from the policemen banging on the doors in the corridor grew louder. Closer.
Any minute they would reach this room.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, placing his hands on her bum and giving her a firm shove so half her body protruded out of the window.
Setting her knee to the sill, she twisted around and lowered herself to the ground.
Anthony hoisted himself up and followed her outside.
“Damnation,” he mumbled, noticing, as she had, that the alley ran straight into another brick building, leaving them with having to move toward the street in front of the music hall.
Used to scaling buildings, Olivia peered at the wall, looking for a drainpipe and footholds, but the surface was completely smooth with not even a single window or ledge.
Hand in hand, they quietly moved up the alley to the main thoroughfare. They could hear the crowd on the street and the sound of a policeman’s whistle screeching in the air. Loud footsteps on the pavement alerted them to someone’s approach. A long, dark shadow cut across the opening of the alley, forewarning of the person’s proximity.
With quick movements, Anthony swung her around and pressed her back to the cold brick of the adjacent building. He dipped his head and his mouth covered hers again. His lips were warm in the cool night. The kiss started out almost tender, as if he was reluctant to press his lips to hers, but then the pressure increased.
She heard her own moan as she tangled her hands about his neck and returned his kiss.
His mouth coaxed her lips apart.
Briefly, their breaths puffed against each other before his tongue slipped into her mouth to explore the recesses within. She had never experienced anything so decadent.
Tentatively, Olivia moved her tongue against his.
He made an unmistakable noise of approval and leaned farther into her. Her tingling breasts were flattened against his chest.
“Break it up! Break it up! Go home if you want to be rutting with each other.”
Anthony pulled back.
The policeman stood only a few feet from them, holding his billy club. Obviously, he didn’t realize they’d been in the music hall.
“Sorry, sir,” Anthony said, his normally authoritative voice contrite. “Just was taking me girl out for a stroll.”
“Strolling, eh, is that what you call it?” the policeman asked. “Be on your way.”
Without responding, Anthony placed her hand around the bend of his elbow, and they moved out of the alley. “Keep your head down,” he mumbled as they stepped onto the pavement where several other patrons were being carted into a police wagon.
They had walked a good distance away when she noticed a grin on his face.
“That was a close one.” His smile broadened as if he’d reveled in the excitement of it all.
They truly were more alike than he understood. “Why do you think the police raided the place?”
“There’s an illegal gambling casino in the back room. It appears someone tipped them off to its presence.”
* * *
An hour later, they arrived back at the Trent family’s Mayfair residence. Thankfully, every window in the house remained dark.
As Anthony slipped his key into the front door, he turned to her. “I’m sorry the evening turned out the way it did. I hope you weren’t frightened too much.”
Is that why he’d been so quiet after they had found a hackney to take them home? She thought perhaps it was the fact that she’d not only kissed him back in the alley, but that she’d taken the opportunity to tightly wrap her hands around his neck and cling to him like a lost lover.
The knowledge that his reticence was not caused by her behavior sent a wave of relief through her. She was half tempted to tell him that the abrupt ending to their night out would never, could never, erase everything that had come before that. The laughing, the dancing, and both kisses would be etched into her brain until she took her last breath.
She stared down at her feet and tried to think of how to respond without sounding desperate or infatuated. She was neither. Well, perhaps a little of the latter. Or a great deal of it.
“I should not have taken you there. Forgive me,” his lordship said, drawing her from her thoughts.
“There is no need to apologize. I enjoyed myself immensely.”
“Did you now? Even though we had to climb out of a window to avoid being arrested? Even though I kissed you not once but twice without asking you first? Even though I felt you trembling in that alley?”
She hadn’t trembled from fear. She’d placed herself in dangerous situations that far outweighed what had transpired tonight. She faced it every time she climbed out of a window. Every time she balanced herself on a narrow ledge. And every time she entered a residence to settle a long overdue score.
It was not fear from the bobby that had caused her to shake, it was what she experienced when Anthony’s lips moved ag
ainst hers that frightened her. It was longing. Throughout her life, Olivia had yearned for many things. A family. A home. A sense of belonging. During her life, she might attain those things but longing for any attachment to Lord Anthony was a fool’s dream since they were separated by a social chasm too great to bridge.
“It was a bit frightening when the police arrived, but I did enjoy myself tonight. I had never visited a music hall, and I liked the tempo of the music, along with all the other acts. Of course, the ending of the outing will be something I never forget.”
He smiled. “Yes, it is not every day one is involved in a policemen’s raid.”
She’d not meant the raid, she’d meant the kiss, but Lord Anthony didn’t need to know that. Like all her other secrets, she would take that to her grave.
For another long moment, they just stared at each other.
“You are full of surprises, Olivia.”
If he only knew how many, he would most likely despise her.
He turned the key in the lock, and the front door swung inward on silent hinges. Together they moved up the stairs. Their bedchambers were on the same floor. His near the steps, hers at the end of the corridor across from the dowager’s room.
“Good night, Olivia,” he whispered.
“Good night, my lord.”
As she turned to walk away his fingers wrapped about her hand. “After everything we have been through, I think you can call me Anthony when alone.”
She opened her mouth and before she could utter a word, his finger pressed against her lips.
“I insist.”
She nodded.
“Good night, Olivia,” he said again.
“Good night, Anthony.” She turned and walked down the long corridor. At the doorway, she could not stop herself from peering back to where they had stood. He was still there, watching her.
Heart beating fast, she stepped into her bedchamber and slumped against the door.
Chapter Fourteen
The following week, Anthony glanced across his desk to where Olivia sat, diligently transferring figures into a ledger, while he once again worked on the blueprints of the different manufacturing stations at Victory Pens.
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