To pass the time he counted turns, imagining the map of the city. Not too far from his own home. This would put him in Piccadilly. And then, past. They travelled for a short time more, and then the carriage stopped, the door opened, and he could hear the step being put down for him again. The same groom that had been ready to help him up offered no hand this time, but murmured, ‘A little to your left, my lord. Very good’, allowing him to navigate on his own. When he had gained the street, the man said, ‘The door you want is straight in front of you. Two scant paces. Then five stairs with a railing on your right. The knocker is a ring, set in a lion’s mouth.’
‘Thank you.’ He must remember to compliment his hostess on the astuteness of her servants. With a few simple actions, this man had relieved the trepidation Adrian often felt in strange surroundings. Following the directions, he made his way to the door and knocked upon it.
It appeared the footman was prepared as well, describing the passage as they walked down it, opening the door to the sitting room and informing him of the locations of the furniture so that he did not have to fumble his way to the couch. He could feel the fire in front of him, but before he sat down he paused. The air smelled of lemons. Did her scent linger in the room? No. He could hear her breathing, if he listened for it. He turned in the direction of the sound. ‘Did you mean to trick me into rudeness? You are standing in the corner, aren’t you?’
She gave a small laugh and he enjoyed the prettiness of the sound. ‘I did not think it necessary to have a butler announce you. We are meeting in secret, are we not?’
He walked towards her, praying that the confidence of the movement would not be spoiled by unseen furniture. ‘If you wish it.’
‘I think I would prefer it that way, Adrian.’
He started, and then laughed at his own foolishness. ‘I gave you my first name last night, didn’t I? And got nothing in return for it, as I remember. Perhaps a full introduction on my part will encourage you to reveal more.’
‘That is not necessary, Lord Folbroke,’ she said. ‘Even without your telling me, I recognised you last night. And you would recognise me, should you still have your sight.’
‘Would I, now?’ He paused to rack his brains, trying to place the sound of that voice with a name, or at least a face. But when none appeared, he shrugged apologetically. ‘I am embarrassed to admit that I do not know you, even now. And I hope you do not mean to punish me by keeping the secret.’
‘I am afraid I must. Should I give you any clue to my identity, you would know me immediately. And this evening will end quite differently than I wish it to.’
‘And how do you wish it to end?’ he coaxed.
‘In my bed.’
‘Really?’ He had not expected her to be so very blunt about a thing that they both knew to be true. ‘And if you were to tell me your name?’
‘Then it would be a significant stumbling block to that. It might give you reason to be angry with me, or to discover a distaste or a hesitance that you do not have now. It would change everything.’
So she was likely the wife of some friend of his. And she thought him honourable enough not to cuckold a chum. ‘Perhaps that is true.’ Or perhaps it wasn’t. His character did not bear close scrutiny at this time.
She sighed. ‘I would much prefer to have you think me a stranger, and to kiss me as you did last night, as though you had no thought for anything but the moment, and for me. As though you enjoyed it.’
‘I did enjoy it,’ he said. ‘And apparently so did you if you are willing to go to such great lengths to do it again.’
‘It was very nice,’ she said politely. ‘And unlike anything I have previously experienced.’
Should he discover that she was the wife of an old friend, he might be unwilling to continue. But he would have to hunt the man down and give him a lecture on the care and tending of his lady. Considering the state of his own marriage, the idea that he would give advice to anyone was laughable.
‘It pains me to hear you say such. There was nothing so unusual in the way I kissed you. You have been sorely neglected. And I would be honoured to rectify such a grievous error, if you will allow me to. Lips as sweet as yours are made to be kissed hard and often.’
She gave a loud sigh that ended in a little squeak of annoyance, as though she had thought herself too sensible to be swayed by his words. ‘Not quite yet, I think. We should eat. Dinner has been laid for us in the next room and I would not wish it to get cold.’
‘Allow me.’ He took her hand in the crook of his arm, wondering what he was meant to do next. Pride was all well and good, but what did it save him, if he did not know where to lead her?
She sensed his dilemma. ‘The door is in front of you. And a little to the right.’
‘Thank you.’ He walked forwards, and she let him guide her. He half wished that they’d cross the threshold and find themselves in a bedroom. Then he could rid himself of the tension that was building in him. But, no. He could smell a meal somewhere nearby. She showed no hesitation, so he walked forwards into the blur in front of him, putting his hand out nonchalantly to feel for the table that he was sure must lay before them.
There it was. His fingers touched the corner and a linen cloth. He led her to what he hoped was an acceptable chair and worked his way to the other side, finding his seat and taking it and running his hand over the plate in front of him to familiarise himself with the setting.
Now the tension in him was of an entirely different sort. Suppose he spilled his wine, or dropped the meat into his lap without noticing? Suppose, dear God, she served him soup? If he made a fool of himself, he might never have the chance to know her better.
Adrian listened for the approach of the servant, and sniffed the food he was served. Was it fish? Or perhaps lamb. There was rosemary there, he was sure. And fresh peas, for there was the smell of mint. Problematic, for they would roll across the plate, if he was not careful. Better to flatten them with the fork than to chase them about the plate.
There was a faint laugh from the other side of the table, and his head snapped up. ‘What is it?’
‘You are glaring at your plate as though it is an enemy. And you seem to have forgotten me entirely. I am trying to decide whether to be amused or insulted by it.’
‘I apologise. It is just that, meals can be a difficult time for me.’
‘Do you require assistance?’
‘That will not be necessary.’ It humiliated him to display his weakness so clearly, and he longed to end the game they were playing and lie with her. Once their bodies touched, she could see how little this mattered.
But she had ignored him, for he could hear her drawing her chair closer to his. ‘I said I did not need your help.’ His tone was sharper than he had intended.
But it did not seem to bother her, for her response was placid enough. ‘That is a pity. For it might be quite pleasant for both of us.’
He started as she touched his mouth with her finger, resting the tip on the centre of his lower lip, almost as though it were a kiss.
He touched
