“I’ll look ridiculous and we both know it. But thank you. I’m just glad we were able to find something suitable in the attic. Agatha and I are hardly the same size.”
Darling shrugged. “When your bodice is pinned in place and laced together, wiggle room is easy to find. I nipped a bit from the skirts for extra fabric where needed, not that you’ll notice. This gown is fifty years old, but the quality is exceptional. Do we know what Lord Amesbury is wearing this evening?”
“No, he’s been left to his own devices. But he’s an enterprising sort. I’m sure he’ll manage. I told him I’m dressing as a shepherdess, which he found as amusing as we did. If this fabric is appropriate for tending sheep in any century, I’ll eat the wig that goes with it. Utterly preposterous.”
Three hours later, with Lottie’s hair tightly coiled to make way for a towering wig of ridiculous proportions sure to fall off if she moved her head too quickly, she muttered, “This is a fresh hell I’ve never experienced before.”
Behind her, Darling snorted a laugh, then secured a flashy necklace around her throat. “There we go. Let the pendant settle between your lady friends, and Lord Amesbury won’t be able to tear his eyes away. Poor man. He’ll be running into walls tonight if he doesn’t manage to see past your neckline.”
“How is it I’m wearing the fabric equivalent of every garment I own, yet still have this much cleavage on display?”
“Because I have your best interests at heart. I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. These are your weapons. Use them—but try not to sneeze. You risk loosing a nipple above the neckline.” Darling stepped back to admire her handiwork.
With perfect timing, a footman arrived with the shepherd’s crook. Someone had painted the curved staff to match the powder blue of the dress, then wrapped it all around with greenery and white blooms from the décor downstairs. She would match the decorations. God help her.
“What do I do if the wig falls off?”
“Send a footman. I’ll meet you in the retiring room to fix it. But try not to let the wig fall off.” Darling smiled, then waved her out of the room, giggling a bit when Lottie had to turn sideways to fit the wide panniers through the door.
The view from the top of the staircase was designed to impress. Beeswax candles illuminated the foyer with a warm glow that carried the faintest scent of honey to where she stood. White flowers were draped from everything stationary. Her aunt did know how to make an impression.
Standing a head above most of the others in the foyer, Ethan made it awfully easy to admire the picture he made in his black coat and costume. Sauntering down the steps and grinning like a fool, she met him halfway when he bounded up to meet her.
Ethan swept a courtly bow. “Fair shepherdess. You’re a bonny vision, as expected.”
“A wolf? Really, Ethan?”
Fuzzy gray wolf ears poked from Ethan’s wayward curls. She might not have taken enough off the top when she cut it. That, or his curls truly had a mind of their own. The memory of that first night together, exchanging orgasms before the kitchen hearth, ignited the now-familiar burn of desire in her belly. His gaze behind the domino mask felt like a caress as he blatantly perused her costume and gave an appropriately wolfish grin. Lottie petted one of his costume ears, rearranging a curl to cover the fastening clips.
“Should I be quaking in the presence of the Big Bad Wolf?”
“The Big Bad Wolf will eat you up at the first opportunity, I promise you.” Ethan’s mask almost hid the wicked glint in his eye. “Look, I even have a tail.” Sure enough, a matching length of gray fur trailed out from beneath his coat.
The earliest guests trickled through the door. Mindful of the eyes on them, Lottie offered her hand. “I wish I could greet you properly.” Truly, the weeks since leaving Woodrest had been the longest of her life. This last week especially—waiting for a reply from Father and wondering if her mad plan to marry the man who’d ruined her would come to fruition—had taken its toll. Sleepless nights wanting the comfort of his arms while she concocted contingency plans for the likely event that Father wouldn’t see reason.
Ethan placed an openmouthed kiss on her palm, pulling her from her musings. His lips against the white of her glove sent curls of sensation up her arm. “We’ll steal a moment tae ourselves as soon as we can, lass.”
The trickle grew to a steady stream. As hostess, Agatha was in her element, greeting friends, then directing them to the ballroom without ever letting on that she’d essentially herded them like cattle. Lottie took her place at Agatha’s right hand, with Ethan beside her.
When the arrival of guests trailed off to a trickle once more, Agatha said, “Amesbury, if you would be so kind, please open the floor for dancing.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to manage dancing in this gown.” Lottie shook her head and immediately regretted it when the wig shifted precariously. She froze, afraid to move.
“Nonsense.” Agatha sniffed. “I danced at court in that gown. Several of the Russians copied the design, I’ll have you know. Turn sideways through doors when needed, hold your head steady, and try not to think too hard. You will be fine.”
Lottie took Ethan’s arm, which shook with his barely contained laughter. “The best advice she could give was ‘Don’t think too hard’?”
In the center of the ballroom, beneath a chandelier heavy with swags of white flowers, Ethan drew her closer. “I have faith in you, Princess.”
At the nickname, Lottie stuck out her tongue, then heard a titter travel through the room. Ah, yes. The ever-present spectators to their courtship. She huffed under her breath and tried to lengthen her neck under the weight of the wig. Her aunt’s faultless posture made so much more sense now.
“I don’ envy you the task of navigating in that dress, but you look beautiful.” Ethan placed a palm at her waist as the opening strains of music floated through the room.
Lottie scanned the faces around the edges of the ballroom.
“Who are you looking for?”
“Just making sure Montague hasn’t found a way in. He wasn’t invited, of course. But you never know. Can you believe he’s just happened to be in the square three times in the last few days? He doesn’t live near here as far as I know. Didn’t try to call or anything. He knows we wouldn’t allow him inside. Instead he just watches. It makes me nervous.”
Taking their cue from the music, they began to dance. “Calvin has eyes on him tonight. Montague won’ ruin our night, lass. Cal and I have been buying debts from the gaming tables, and today we wrote his father, calling in the lump sum. Danby will insist Montague retreat tae the country, and he’ll no’ be around tae cause trouble for you. But still, take a large footman when you go out until he’s no longer a threat. Please? I don’ like that he’s loitering outside.”
“Fine. We will enlist the burliest footman we can find. Do I want to know how much this plan has cost you?”
His dimple flashed. “Didn’t Agatha say we shouldn’t discuss money in company?”
Lottie squinted, giving him a false glare. “Fair enough. For now.”
By the time they’d completed one circuit of the room, other guests were joining them on the dance floor. Ethan was a confident, although not terribly graceful dancer. He tended to charge through the steps with little regard for musicality. But he held her gaze as they worked through the turns of the dance, focusing all that determined energy on her, which made her almost dizzy. Lottie’s internal temperature rose another degree, while the air thickened with something she could not name. It was as close to magic as Lottie had ever experienced in public. When she was a little girl dreaming of her debut, this was the stuff of her young hopes.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she let him pull her through another spin.
* * *
Guests danced, musicians played, wine flowed, and if he didn’t get Lottie alone for five minutes to kiss her properly, he might scream. The damned skirts were too wide to allow him a place by her side, so
he held her fingers, tugging her along the edge of the room toward the balcony beyond the windows of the glittering ballroom. Lady Agatha had outdone herself. The house was almost as lovely as the woman who’d finally agreed to marry him.
Their visit to Gunther’s and her abysmal timing of consenting to marry him—while standing in a public venue—was so very Lottie, he’d been smiling like a fool since. She was a woman of surprises, and it was pointless to deny that his heart was hers. Entirely. Even if he couldn’t tell her in those specific words, because she would run away, he knew he loved her.
Somehow, he’d managed to win her hand. Him. Lady Charlotte Wentworth, daughter of the Earl of Brinkley, had agreed to marry a Scottish sheep farmer. Such an odd thing.
They’d written to the earl, but they hadn’t received a response. Not a huge surprise given the distance the letters had to travel. It felt a bit like tempting fate to celebrate so openly without her father’s blessing. While writing their letters, they’d shared their plans with Lady Agatha. The older woman had encouraged them to continue with the engagement ball on the grounds that creating a public spectacle of the match might corner the earl into agreeing to the marriage.
A memory of the earl’s sour face crossed his mind. The years had changed Ethan. Perhaps they’d softened the earl too.
If not, this could be the last time he had Lottie alone. Tomorrow might bring a letter—or even the earl himself—to her door, ending everything. No matter how he spun the possibilities, Ethan didn’t have a plan beyond begging if that happened. Any other action risked separating Lottie from her last family member, and he couldn’t do that to her. Especially not if there was a chance her relationship with her father could be repaired now that he was coming out of mourning.
When Ethan had told her she looked beautiful, he’d understated it. Yes, maneuvering in the gown was a chore, but he heartily approved of the style if it meant acres of skirts and a minuscule bodice.
“You have a habit of cornering me on balconies. Have you noticed?” She was teasing and laughing, and his.
“They’re the closest thing tae privacy I can find, and I need tae kiss you before I go mad.” She didn’t protest when Ethan pulled her toward the corner farthest from the ballroom lights.
At last, her body pressed against his, and something inside him released on a sigh of relief. “I’ve missed holding you,” he said. The back of her neck warmed his palm through his evening gloves.
“Careful of the wig,” she whispered.
If she couldn’t tilt her head, he’d have to come down to her. Grinning at the ridiculousness of it, he bent so they were on eye level and finally kissed her.
Lottie tasted sweeter when she smiled. That he knew something so intimate about her had him thanking whatever god was so lax as to let Ethan stumble his way into favor. Again, the earl’s face flashed in his mind, intruding on the moment of happiness. The love match between Lottie’s parents was well known in the ton. There was a chance the letters could sway her father. Shoving away the worry, Ethan lost himself in the kiss until she pulled away a long moment later.
Her breath feathered against his face on a sigh. “What if he says no, Ethan?”
Their thoughts traveled the same path, then. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. You’re the master planner. Do you have any ideas?”
Beyond the garden walls a night watchman called the hour as one by one gaslights flickered on down the street, filtering light through the trees lining the balcony.
The sight of her worrying her bottom lip with her teeth distracted him from her words for a moment. “Elope? We’d probably forfeit my dowry, though, and he might never forgive me. But I am of age.”
He brushed a thumb over her lip, soothing the skin her teeth had nibbled. “He’s all you have left, lass. I don’ want tae jeopardize that. But as tae the dowry, Woodrest will support us—although not in a lavish lifestyle. At least, not for a few more years. Tae be honest, nearly everything I have is invested in the brewery.”
“He is all I have left. Well, Father and Agatha. I don’t want to lose him. But it’s the principle of the thing, Ethan. That’s my dowry. It isn’t right that he could deny me what’s mine.”
Leaning against the balustrade, Ethan interlaced his fingers with hers. “What are you saying, lass?”
“I’m saying, he needs to see reason and let me marry whom I choose.” The frustration in her tone was clear.
Ethan would do everything within his power to make her never regret marrying him. Even so, the future wasn’t set in stone. Nothing had been resolved, and it sounded like she wasn’t going to be moved from her stance. Those last precious pieces of her plan—the dowry, her own estate, having someplace to run away—were hers to cling to. And they might be the deciding factor that kept them apart.
Saying that aloud would make it real. It would mean giving voice to the fear. That in the end, she’d choose her plan, the future she’d envisioned, over him. If she did, it would hurt like hell.
No matter his gloomy thoughts about the future, the balcony remained blessedly empty, and she was in his arms. This might be their last chance to steal a moment together, and the urgency to have her come apart one last time overtook his worries for the future. By God, if the earl shut them down, he’d do his best to give them both warm memories.
Ethan’s focus narrowed to her skin exposed to the nighttime air. “This neckline will be the end of my sanity.”
Her laugh turned into a gasp when his teeth found the sensitive spot on her neck. After their time at Woodrest, he knew she loved that. But only the right side made her breathless, not the left.
If given the chance, he would be a husband who paid attention.
Husband. Ethan grinned against her skin, relishing her light giggle. A very un-Lottie-like sound, made all the more precious because he’d caused such a girlish noise. “I can’t stop thinking about that night in the library with your mouth on my cock. Remember the next day, when I returned the favor?”
The grin she shot him played with every wicked thought in his brain. He set her hands on either side of him, to grasp the stone railing he leaned against. “Keep your hands here. Don’ let go, lass. You’ll be needin’ the support. And try tae keep that wig on.”
“What? Now? Ethan, where are you— Oh mercy!”
The layers of her costume muffled sound when he dived under her skirt, tucking his costume tail behind him so it wouldn’t give away his location should someone pass by. Surely, he wasn’t the only man in history to think of this. These skirts had to be good for something beyond making walking a hazard.
“I didn’t know you meant now.” The hissed statement reached him loud and clear, cutting through the layers of fabric without a problem. However, she didn’t step away from the edge of the balcony, and she widened her stance to make room for him. The trust she offered and that willingness to explore passion were two things he loved about her.
Grinning, he kissed the inside of one knee. There was plenty of room under here to maneuver. It would be nice to see the landscape, so to speak, but beggars can’t be choosers. If he couldn’t find everything in the dark by feel alone, then he had no business being under a woman’s skirts in the first place.
Ethan tugged off his evening gloves, tucked them in a pocket, then used his fingers to see her, beginning at her knees before traveling north. Her garter ribbons were silk. Kissing one bow, Ethan hoped he’d have the chance to determine its color another day, then continued on, tracing the line of her legs with eager fingers.
When he greeted the plump curve of her inner thigh with an openmouthed kiss, her body quivered for an instant under his lips. But then—oh, beautiful lass—she leaned into his mouth.
Holding her open, Ethan blew lightly across the top of her slit, where her bud waited. Her body jolted, but not away from him. Drawing in her scent, he placed an almost-chaste kiss on the triangle of curls before letting himself go further. Lord, he’d missed her.
Finally,
the taste of her coated his tongue again. Years seemed to have passed since he’d last savored her unique flavor.
Ethan grasped her legs, curling his long fingers at the crease of her buttock and thigh, then he encouraged her movements against his mouth with light presses and squeezes of his fingertips. Similar to leading a dance, except that this was something more intimate than a waltz. And just like on the dance floor, she was a brilliant partner.
The soft, willing body under his hands froze.
A woman’s voice filtered through the lusty haze clouding his brain. They were no longer alone.
Lottie’s side of the conversation came through clearer, although her tone struck him as a wee bit shrill. Understandable given the circumstances. His caress along the back of her thighs was partly to reassure her that she was handling the situation well and partly for the sheer joy of touching her.
“Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Lord Amesbury and I are glad you were able to join us this evening.” A moment later, Lottie said, “I last saw him going, er, downstairs.” Ethan bit his lip and pressed his face against her leg to smother the laughter, then nibbled a path back toward heaven, soothing each nip with a flick of his tongue. “Although, knowing Aunt Agatha, she’s probably introducing him to friends. If you see them, do let him know I’m waiting.” Her strained laugh sounded credible enough. With a lazy lick, he tasted the slit of her quim. She handled herself admirably under pressure.
“Yes, the man is such a dear.” Lottie took one step forward—largely unnoticeable to the likes of Mrs. Fitzwilliam but effective in pressing his head back against the railing. He grinned at the silent reprimand, then held her hips in place, laving her core with the flat of his tongue.
Mrs. Fitzwilliam must have moved along to mingle with the other guests inside, because Lottie’s body turned pliable under his hands once more. Skimming hands up toward her wet curls, he brushed her open to hint at his intention before sliding his finger inside. The soft curve of her lower belly quivered against him, and he would have given anything to have more than just a finger inside her. With a wee bit of luck, they’d have a lifetime to take their pleasure in each other.
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