"Still more innocent than you know," he replied.
"We did what we set out to do," she reminded him. "We made it possible for you to return to the ballroom and we found the perfect way to do it." She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "A most pleasurable way, I might add."
"Very pleasurable," Jarrod agreed. "For me."
"For me as well," she admitted.
Jarrod smiled at her. "Imagine Little Miss Nosey Nell so full of surprises."
"Imagine Know-It-All Jays able to appreciate it at last." His kiss took her by surprise.
Without warning, Jarrod leaned over, pulled her close, and kissed her, hard.
Sarah looped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and kissed him back. She used her tongue to tempt and lease him as they played a game of advance and retreat, of give and take, of mutual surrender. She followed his lead until he relinquished control and followed hers. They played the game over and over again, leading each other on a merry chase with every stroke of their tongues as they leased and tormented each other with kisses that were so hungry and hot and wet and deep that Jarrod was finally forced to end them. "I believe that's enough kissing for tonight," he said softly, tenderly. "Any more and I won't be able to stand it."
"We can't have that, now can we?" she teased.
"Careful," he issued another warning, "ladies who play with fire often get burned — twice in one night."
"Luckily, I know how to handle it now," she said.
Jarrod burst out laughing. "Oh, Sarah…" He broke off before he made a complete fool of himself. He wanted to tell her how much he'd missed having her to spar with, how much he'd missed having someone follow him around, how much he'd missed showing her the things that interested him, the things he knew. Once he'd gone to great lengths to pretend disgust at her ignorance as he'd patiently taught her the names of the trees and birds, flowers and rocks surrounding Helford Green and Shepherdston Hall. But he'd been secretly pleased to have someone with whom to share his knowledge and now, suddenly, he delighted in giving her pleasure and showing her how to please him. But that was as far as it could go. He'd already compromised her beyond the bounds of decency. He couldn't allow himself to ruin her completely. She deserved better. She deserved the best.
"Yes?" Sarah leaned closer, waiting for him to say what was in his heart, waiting for him to trust her with his heart as he had just trusted her with his body.
"We'd better get back to the party," he said. "We've been gone much too long. Your aunt will be looking for us."
Sarah did her best to hide her disappointment as he placed his arm around her and ushered her to the front door of the folly. She waited while he locked the door and returned the key to its hiding place, then took his hand and let him lead her out of the maze.
"How do you do it?" she asked as they turned the first corner of the maze in the dark.
"Do what?"
"Find your way through this labyrinth of passages," she said. "You never did tell me how you knew your way around the maze. Or the first girl you brought here for your nefarious purposes." She did her best to imitate him by arching an eyebrow, but she failed miserably.
"No." He grinned. "I never did."
"Jays!" she protested. "It's only fair. You discovered the truth about my petticoat and my modesty."
"Yes, I did." He grinned again. "And by the by, I like the 'modest' way you look in your black gloves, with your black, lace-edged, lawn petticoat pushed up above your knees, with your black stockings and lacy drawers exposed, and with your lacy black corset displaying your French pastries so beautifully."
She couldn't see his smoldering look in the shadows cast by the maze, but she could feel it; and every tantalizing squeeze of his hand, every moment spent walking politely side by side instead of in each other's arms, was pure torture and Sarah's body ached with the need for more kissing and touching.
She couldn't get the sight of him out of her mind. She couldn't forget the expression on his face as she'd brought him to satisfaction with her hand, couldn't forget the way his strong male body strained for release, the way that same powerful body had trembled uncontrollably as he found it, and the flush of embarrassment he'd suffered when he'd opened his eyes and remembered where he was and what he'd just allowed her to do.
She had wondered if he'd felt the same way when he'd brought her to satisfaction with his fingers. Now she knew. "I'm wearing black because I'm in mourning, otherwise you'd have seen the modest way I look in my white gloves, with my white, lace-edged, lawn petticoat pushed up above my knees, and my white stockings and white lacy drawers exposed, and with my lacy white corset displaying my French pastries so beautifully."
"And if I prefer you in black?" He echoed her earlier sentiment.
"That can be arranged," she said simply. "So long as you tell me how you know your way around this maze so well."
"I may take you up on that," he warned. "I may show up at your door in the wee hours of the morning offering more lessons in exchange for a chance to catch you in your black undergarments."
"I'll look forward to it," Sarah answered honestly. "So long as you keep your end of the bargain and tell me who you've brought to the maze."
"You are stubborn, aren't you?"
"As stubborn as you are," she retorted.
"All right, Miss Jealous Nosey Nell, I'll tell you." He relented. "The first girl I brought to the folly was my nursemaid."
"Your nursemaid?"
He nodded.
"You brought your nursemaid to the Garrisons' garden?"
"Actually, she brought me to the maze and not the other way around. I was three or four, I believe, and the garden didn't belong to the Garrisons then," he said. "It belonged to the Shepherdstons. It was my family home. I was born here." He squeezed Sarah's fingers. "I know the maze like the back of my hand because I used to play in it." Jarrod took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it. "My great-grandmother spent a small fortune constructing the folly. She had it built in the garden shortly after she and my great-grandfather built the house. My great-grandfather called it Eleanor's Folly after her. When I was small, it was my playhouse. And later…" He paused, struggling for words. "Later, it was used for other purposes."
"For trysting?" she asked.
"In a manner of speaking," he said. "But I haven't been inside the folly or on the property at all since I was six and ten years old. And tonight is the first time I've ever used it for anything other than a place where I could be alone."
Eleanor's Folly had been his favorite hideaway from the time he'd been old enough to find his way to it until he'd sold the house and grounds. It had been his escape from the unbearable situation inside the main house. When he was home from school, Jarrod had spent most of his waking hours in it because Eleanor's Folly was the place he loved most.
But when Jarrod inherited the title of Marquess of Shepherdston, he'd sold the Richmond house and Eleanor's Folly to the present Lord Garrison's father to escape the memories.
The present Lord Garrison had inherited it, along with his father's title, when his father died.
Jarrod had sworn never to set foot inside the house or on the property again. And he'd kept that promise for fifteen years.
He'd broken it tonight because Sarah Eckersley and her aunt had asked him to escort them to Lady Garrison's ball.
"Then I'm doubly honored you made an exception for me," Sarah told him. "Thank you, Jarrod."
"You're welcome, Sarah."
They entered another turn in the maze. Jarrod leaned toward her and was about to give her another kiss in the moonlight when a man and woman came around the corner.
"There you are." Lady Dunbridge hurried toward Sarah. "You disappeared in the crowd of dancers and I lost sight of you."
"Jarrod asked to show me the garden," Sarah told her. "But I should have let you know where we were going before I left the ballroom."
"I was hoping that might be the case," Lady Dunbridge said.
"But I became worried when you were gone for so long. I was afraid someone else might have waylaid you or that you had become lost in the maze. Thank goodness Lord Mayhew offered to help me look for you."
"It's my fault," Jarrod apologized. "I shouldn't have brought her out here without informing you."
"I should think you would have had the good manners to ask me." Lady Dunbridge gave him a serious look. "Instead of informing me."
Jarrod nodded his head. "You're quite right, Lady Dunbridge," he replied in a conciliatory tone. "I should have asked permission to escort Miss Eckersley into the garden. Please accept my apologies."
"Well." Lord Mayhew stepped from behind Lady Dunbridge.
Sarah blanched at the sight of him. She closed her eyes and waited for him to remark upon their earlier encounter, but it never came. He didn't recognize her. But then, how could he? When all he'd seen was her bare leg and her posterior?
"I'm sure my godson meant no harm or disrespect," Lord Mayhew was saying; "it's been a long time since he's had to answer to anyone and he's accustomed to doing things his own way. But Miss Eckersley is here now and I'm sure she's none the worse for wear for having seen the garden by moonlight." He looked at Jarrod.
"I'm sure you're right," Lady Dunbridge said. "And I had no objection to Lord Shepherdston showing Sarah the garden or anything else; it's just that there are people inside who are bound to notice that they were gone an extraordinarily long amount of time."
"If any untoward gossip should result from our absence from the ballroom, I assure you that I will take care of it," Jarrod told her. "In the meantime, I shall assure you, Lady Dunbridge, that I've returned Sarah to you with her virtue intact."
Lady Dunbridge glanced at her niece.
Sarah nodded. "Lord Shepherdston showed me the folly and was a perfect gentleman the whole time." She pursed her lips and added, "Much to my dismay."
"Sarah!"
"It's true." Sarah couldn't quite meet her aunt's gaze. "I should have liked to have gotten a few wildly passionate kisses from my excursion into a beautiful moonlit garden and the mysterious depths of a maze with a man, but Lord Shepherdston's behavior was beyond reproach."
She gave a dramatic sigh and Jarrod bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her overacting.
Lady Dunbridge looked from Sarah to Jarrod and back again. Sarah was lying through her teeth and Henrietta knew it. "If you say so."
"I do, Aunt Etta," Sarah assured her. "And I will say it to anyone who dares say otherwise."
"Very well, my dear," Lady Dunbridge replied. "But you would both do well to remember your father's teachings." Lady Dunbridge firmed her lips and thought for a minute. "I suggest you begin with two scriptures. Colossians 2:21 and First Corinthians 7:9."
"Yes, ma'am," Sarah replied in an uncharacteristically meek voice that fooled no one.
"By the by." Lord Robert walked over to Sarah and bowed. "We haven't been formally introduced, but I am Robert Mayhew, Lord Shepherdston's godfather and maternal uncle by marriage, and you must be Lady Dunbridge's niece…"
Remembering his manners, Jarrod turned to Sarah and continued the introductions. "Miss Sarah Eckersley, may I introduce Lord Mayhew, seventh Earl of Mayhew?" He turned to Lord Rob. "Lord Mayhew, Miss Sarah Eckersley."
Lord Mayhew rubbed his palms together in anticipation. "And now that we've all toured the gardens together and seen part of the maze, why don't we return to the ballroom and see if any damage has been done?" Lord Mayhew offered an immediate solution and explanation for Sarah and Jarrod's absence, as well as his and Lady Dun-bridge's, and he gave credence to the fiction by escorting Sarah back into the ballroom while Jarrod escorted Lady Dunbridge. "Shall we, my dear?"
"I'd be delighted, Lord Mayhew," Sarah answered. And thank you."
Jarrod arched an eyebrow in query as he offered Lady Dunbridge his arm. "Colossians 2:21, ma'am?"
"Touch not; taste not; handle not, Lord Shepherdston."
Jarrod couldn't help but grin. "Very apropos."
"I thought so." She smiled up at him.
"Dare I ask for a translation of First Corinthians 7:9?"
"It is better to marry than to burn."
"You may have a point there, Lady Dunbridge," Jarrod conceded.
"You gave me your word, Lord Shepherdston," she reminded him. "And depending upon what we face when we enter that ballroom once more, you may have no choice."
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
Contents - Prev | Next
Never say more than is necessary.
— Richard Brinsley Sherilan, 1751-1816
The ballroom was abuzz with whispers when they re-entered it, but the whispering was more about Jarrod's extraordinary appearance at the Garrisons. No one seemed to care that he'd left the ballroom in the middle of a quadrille then suddenly reappeared in the company of Lady Dunbridge, Lord Mayhew, and Lady Dunbridge's niece.
The fact that Lord Garrison's house had once belonged to the Marquess of Shepherdston was no secret, nor was the fact that Lord Shepherdston hadn't set foot upon the property for any reason in over fifteen years.
The fact that he had done so tonight in order to escort a young lady and her aunt was the primary topic of speculation. Even for his host and hostess.
"I hope his coming here tonight hasn't set the tongues wagging again about the old tragedy," Lady Garrison commented as she and her sister, Alyssa, the Duchess of Avon, stood with their husbands near the terrace doors and the refreshment tables set up at the far end of the ballroom.
"Oh, Anne," Alyssa sighed. "Don't start worrying about that. You were thrilled when he accepted your invitation."
"I know," Anne admitted, "but I've been inviting him to every gathering we've had since Richard and I married and he's always refused. I suppose I've grown more accustomed to his refusal. And when he asked that I include Lady Dunbridge and Miss Eckersley in the invitation even though they are in deep mourning, I wasn't at all sure I was doing the right thing in agreeing."
"You did exactly the right thing," her husband said. Lord Shepherdston must have a reason for his request and I, for one, think that we should respect it."
"I agree," Anne said. "It's just that I'm not quite sure What to say to people now that he's here. And everyone is speculating about it."
"Just tell them the truth," Griff advised. "That the Marquess of Shepherdston accepted your invitation and escorted Lady Dunbridge and her niece to your party. Let folks draw their own conclusions."
Alyssa nodded. "They will anyway. You can't stop people from talking."
"I don't mind people talking," Anne said. "So long as they talk about how magnificent the house is or how splendid the party was, or how beautiful the garden looks, and what an excellent hostess I am." She frowned. "I just don't want them to start talking about the fact that it's the first time in years that Lord Shepherdston has set foot in the house." She appealed to Alyssa and Griff for understanding. "It isn't as if we've never asked him to attend our gatherings. And it isn't as if the marquess still owns the place. Richard's father bought it and spent a fortune gutting the east wing, rebuilding, and remodeling, and turning the house into the showplace it is so that everyone would forget about the rest of it. I don't want all his hard work to go for naught."
Griffin frowned at his sister-in-law. "Richard's father was able to gut, rebuild, remodel, and turn this house into a showplace because Jarrod Shepherdston practically gave it to him."
Anne was clearly surprised.
"He's right, my dear," Richard agreed. "Jarrod sold us the place for a mere fraction of what it was worth. My father could never have afforded to purchase a house the size of this one — with its extensive gardens and the view — otherwise. And Jarrod's only stipulations were that it not be torn down and that its exterior and the exterior of the folly remain unchanged because they were both designed and constructed by Wren. He said destroying the house and the folly would only add to the crimes already committed her
e. And he was right." Richard gave his wife a tender look. "Be glad Shepherdston was willing to part with so large a part of his heritage, because it's made your reputation as a premier hostess possible."
"And if anyone is ill-mannered enough to mention the tragedy that took place here, kindly inform them that you are delighted to welcome Lord Shepherdston as your guest whenever he chooses to come and equally delighted to welcome whomever he chooses to bring," Alyssa told her older sister. "And then, I suggest you strike the name of that ill-mannered person permanently off your guest list."
"Easy for you to say," Anne retorted. "You're a duchess."
Griffin laughed. "Yes, she is, but she'd have done it as a viscountess, too."
"Speaking of which," Alyssa drawled, "this viscountess turned duchess would like to know if you intend to allow waltzing this evening, because I would like to waltz with my husband and I'm sure many of your guests would like to do the same."
"I don't care how many of her guests would like to do the same," Griffin said. "I'm not waltzing with anyone but you."
Alyssa laughed. "I didn't mean to imply all Anne's guests wanted to waltz with you, my darling," she clarified. "Only that they all wanted to waltz."
"If the duchess commands that we allow the waltz… "
"She does," Alyssa interjected.
"Then, how can we refuse?" Anne replied with a smile.
* * * * *
Jarrod stood before Sarah in the ballroom. "Would you care to dance?" he asked.
"I would love to," she said, "but Aunt Etta warned me that it would be unwise for us to dance two dances in a row alter disappearing into the garden together." She looked up at him. "Unless I wish to see you become my unwilling bridegroom…"
Jarrod knew she was teasing, but there was a hopeful note in her voice that he couldn't ignore. "Sarah, it's not that I don't want to marry you…"
Hardly a Husband Page 21