we want is for Maude to be seduced—however wonderful the experience—and then abandoned after one night. Do we?’
‘Well, no, of course not. But Maude is very levelheaded…’
Jessica snorted. ‘Not about this man, she isn’t. You forget, I was there when she first saw him. We were standing in Mr Todmorton’s shop and in he walks, looking like a dark angel from the chillier regions of Hell, and Maude just stood there gawking.’
‘I am here, you know,’ Maude interjected, annoyed. ‘You do not have to speak about me as though I was somewhere else. And I didn’t gawk, I was merely struck dumb with desire. Dark angel, my foot!’ The fact that it perfectly described Eden when he was in one of his frostier moods was neither here nor there; she refused to believe that was the real person. Behind that façade was someone much warmer, someone who needed her love as much as she needed his.
‘Yes, exactly: desire,’ Bel said seriously. ‘You do know what happens when a man makes love to you, don’t you, Maude, because we don’t want you being swept out of your depth through ignorance.’
Maude retreated into one corner of the sofa, clutching a cushion against her stomach defensively. ‘Of course I understand what’s involved. And I have been kissed and—’
‘I mean the bit between him kissing you and the point of no return.’
‘Not precisely.’ Maude rather suspected that the point of no return would be reached rather rapidly if—when—Eden kissed her again, but she was not going to say so or her two friends would probably insist on chaperoning her everywhere.
‘Are you going to talk to her about it, or shall I?’ Jessica asked Bel. ‘Someone ought to, she doesn’t have a mother—’
‘I am going,’ Maude declared, leaping to her feet and snatching up her bonnet. ‘You are talking about me in the third person again and I have no intention of sitting through a hideously embarrassing lecture on lovemaking. I will work it out as I go along.’ Bel moaned faintly. ‘I am serious, you know,’ Maude said, halfway to the door. ‘I love him. I always knew there was someone, somewhere, who was right for me; that’s why I wouldn’t marry Gareth, even though I love him dearly. It isn’t the right sort of love. I know I might not ever be happy with Eden, I know what the obstacles are, but I am not going to give up without even trying.’
Her friends were on their feet, hurrying across the room to embrace her and reassure her. Maude let them fuss, allowed herself to be drawn back into the room to be seated on the sofa and apologised to, and all the time a little voice was nagging in her mind. What if he does not learn to love you? What if he never does?
Tuesday night approached with the speed of a runaway horse when Maude was worrying about it, and like treacle when she talked herself out of the megrims and started to look forward to it. There was no excuse to go to the Unicorn before Tuesday, try as she might to think of one, and no word came from Eden to tell her where they would dine together.
Maude drove Anna distracted on Monday by having all her evening clothes out, trying on one gown after another, and then declaring that she had not got a thing to wear.
‘For what engagement, my lady?’ the maid asked after an hour.
‘A dinner party,’ Maude said fretfully, staring down at the heaps of gauze, tulle and flounces. She wanted to look wonderful for Eden, but she did not want to look as though she was trying too hard and she did not want to stand out, wherever they were going.
‘There’s the dark blue watered silk,’ Anna suggested, lifting it out of the back of the press. ‘Only you don’t like the under-sleeves.’
They spread the gown on the bed and studied it. It fell into full folds from a high waist, the skirt ornamented by swags and bows in a matching tulle. The neckline was boat-shaped, front and back, with cream lace peeping out to add a little modesty, and full white silk under-sleeves reaching to the wrist from beneath the short puffed sleeves.
‘Can you cut them off? They make me feel like a bishop.’ Then it would be perfect, Maude mused. Elegant and charming, it would show off her bosom and the whiteness of her arms while at the same time it was dark and simple enough for discretion. ‘I will need it for tomorrow night,’ she added, hoping Eden had not changed his mind.
The note came that afternoon. I would appreciate your opinion on some changes we have made to To Tease, Eden had written. I trust it is not too late for you to find suitable companions to accompany you tomorrow evening. I would, of course, be more than happy to arrange for them to be escorted home afterwards so your carriage would not have to make any detours.
So, they were to go on after the play. Maude frowned in thought. Who to invite? She could hardly sit in the box alone and Jessica or Bel would be impossible to shake off. Of course, Miss Parrish! Maude took her old governess out every month, but she had not invited her to the theatre for some time. This would be perfect, if she could just manage to work out how to get them both there, and Miss Parrish home again afterwards, without worrying Paul the coachman.
In the event everything worked so smoothly that Maude had an uneasy twinge of conscience. The primrose path was certainly straight and even…
Miss Parrish was delighted at the thought of the play, Paul Coachman quite reassured by Maude’s explanation that he should take the governess back to Somers Town afterwards while she went on to supper with friends who would send her home in their own carriage, and Papa departed for his own meeting at his club with jovial good wishes to pass on to Miss Parrish.
Her old governess, now employed from her own home teaching young ladies French and Italian, was pleased, as always, with the luxury of the box and the refreshments Maude had ordered. Her enjoyment of the entertainment was so great, her affectionate thanks for the treat so fulsome, that Maude was positively wincing with guilt by the time she had seen her off and slipped back up to the box.
It was strange, watching the theatre change after the audience had gone. The boxes emptied, as did the stalls and galleries, the noise ebbing away until only the murmur of it from the entrance reached her. Maude sat in the shadows and watched while the curtain was hauled up and stagehands began to restore the set to order for the morrow. The cleaners, she knew, came in first thing; soon she was going to be alone in this echoing space.
One by one the gas lights dimmed and went out, leaving only a few. Where was Eden? The tap on the door behind her brought her to her feet, unsure whether to shrink back into the hangings or call Come in! As she hesitated, the door opened and a complete stranger walked in.
‘Good evening, ma’am. I’ll just sort the furniture out if that’s all right with you.’ Without waiting for her response he gathered up all but two of the chairs and walked out, to be replaced by two men struggling with a small table and a third laden with a pile of linen and a basket of flatware, porcelain and glasses.
They were going to dine in the box? Maude felt the delighted laughter bubbling up and bit her lip to contain it. How clever of Eden—she was not breaking her promise to Papa not to go behind the scenes at night and she was somewhere private where they could dine with discretion.
And still the men hurried in and out, now with flowers, wine bucket on a stand, bottles, candles… And were as suddenly gone. Now what? Where was the food going to come from?
The door opened and there was Eden, regarding her in the soft glow of the dimmed lamps and the flicker of the candlelight.
