He threw up his hands and strode away a few steps. “I can’t believe I am arguing this with a lady!”
“And being bested,” she pointed out.
“Routed!” he declared. “Your mother was entirely correct — you are unmanageable.”
Ella didn’t feel the least bit insulted. “I daresay, you don’t mind.”
This gave him pause and then he grinned. “No, I actually don’t. But if you tell anyone I’ve conceded—”
She shook her head and crossed her fingers over her heart. “Never! I swear.”
“It shall be our secret,” he told her, moving closer again. As he passed an orange tree, he reached and plucked a blossom from the branch and handed it to her. For a moment all Ella could do was gaze down at the delicate blossom cradled in her hand, for she didn’t dare look up at him.
“Does your father still read you military tracts?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My parents are both gone.”
He paused and gazed at her. “I am so sorry. You have sisters?”
“No, I am … I am all alone now.”
“Not any longer,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her down the long aisle.
The conservatory was glassed on three sides, running the length of the garden wall. A stove provided extra heat and lamps overhead illuminated the wild, exotic collection of plants flourishing in the artificial tropics. As they drew closer to the middle, the intoxicating scent of oranges in bloom curled around her, enticed her to come closer and inhale … deeply.
“It is just like our garden in Portugal,” she told him, reaching out to touch the narrow leaf of a palm.
“You lived in Portugal?”
“Yes. Though not always. I was born in the West Indies. Then my father’s regiment was sent to Portugal.”
“I imagine you find London quite different.”
She laughed. “I find London ever so cold.”
They both laughed.
“Is it still a cold place?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.
“No,” she said, shivering, and definitely not from London’s notorious chill.
His hands, firm and warm, pulled her closer, until she was nestled right up against his chest. Her hands splayed over his surcoat, and marvelled at the hard plains beneath.
Like a Templar reborn.
“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered as he lowered his head, drew his lips closer to hers.
“Does it matter?” she whispered.
“No. Not really,” he said, his breath warm on her lips. And then that breath became his lips, covering hers and stealing a kiss.
Ella didn’t know what to expect, but this … this invasion … this breach of her defences, left her breathless. His tongue sallied over her lips, teased her to open the gates, to let him storm forth. Everything she knew about defences gave way to his very expert onslaught.
Besides, how was she not to let him in, when he was creating this breathless storm inside her?
Desire, new and exhilarating, raced through her, as his hands held her even closer, began to explore her, running down her sides, curving around her backside.
Ella was starting to burn.
His kiss deepened and, instead of being frightened — as she supposed she should be, as she ought to be — she welcomed him, drawing him closer, her arms winding around his neck.
She had to hold him like that, for her knees, her legs, her insides, had become ever so unreliable, quaking with need, with desires, leaving her shaky and unsettled … and eager for more.
He drew back from her, lips parted for a moment, and gazed at her, a wonder in his eyes that startled her. For even in her innocence, she knew this was different. This wasn’t what he had expected.
Or had he known all along, just as they had found themselves drawn to each other in the middle of the ballroom?
“Ahem,” came a polite cough from the doorway of the conservatory, breaking into their intimate moment of wonderment. “Sir?”
Her knight looked up. “Yes?”
“You are required inside,” the fellow said, staring down at the floor.
“Yes, thank you, Shifton.”
The man bowed and left.
“I must—” he said, waving at the door. “But only for a little bit,” he added hastily.
“Yes, I understand,” she said. “I think I should go to the retiring room and put myself in order.”
“I will only undo it later,” he told her, leaning over and kissing her brow tenderly. Ella should have realized then, it was actually a promise.
Ella rushed into the empty retiring room, her cheeks completely flushed and her heart hammering. Whatever is happening to me?
She was falling in love. Oh, and it was perfect and delicious and wonderful. She hugged herself and spun around, only to come to a complete stop when she realized she wasn’t alone.
For there in a chair in the corner sat an elderly matron.
“Oh, I didn’t know—” Ella stammered, glancing towards the door and then around the room.
The lady’s gaze narrowed and then she rose and crossed the room. As she got closer, Ella’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mrs Garraway!”
“Ella Cynders, oh, my dear!” The lady took Ella into her arms and hugged her tight. “You wicked, wicked girl! You don’t know how I have worried after you. And here you are.” Mrs Garraway held her out at arm’s length and examined her, smiling widely.
“How is the Colonel?” Ella asked, as she took off her mask to get a better look at her mother’s dear friend. Colonel Garraway had been her father’s commanding officer, and Ella and her mother had spent countless hours with Mrs Garraway, sewing and gossiping and keeping each other company in Portugal.
That is until Ella’s parents had died, and Ella had been sent home to live with an aunt. But unbeknownst to the kindly Garraways, the lady had also recently died, leaving Ella without friend, family or a home. That was how she had ended up as Lady Pamela’s paid companion.
“He’s just the same, always in a fine fettle over something. But won’t he be ever so happy to see you. We’ve been so worried, for when we got to London and discovered that your aunt had passed away and there wasn’t a word of you, I feared the worst. But I see I was worried for naught, for here you are and looking perfectly lovely.” She hugged Ella again and looked to be ready to burst out in tears. “Wherever have you been?”
“I took a position, Mrs Garraway. I work for Lady Osborn as her daughter’s companion,” Ella told her.
Instead of being shocked or disappointed, Mrs Garraway nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl. You were never so above yourself that you couldn’t find your way. That’s what the Colonel kept saying. ‘Got her father’s nerve,’ he’d say when I would get to fretting.” She paused and looked Ella over again. “And they must be very fond of you to give you such a lovely costume and let you have suitors.”
Bad enough that the colour in her cheeks drained away, Ella couldn’t even look the lady in the eye. Oh, she was in the suds now. More so than for just taking Pamela’s place at the ball.
“Ella!” Mrs Garraway said, her voice turning from welcoming to stern. “I can see it on your face. What mischief is this?”
She bit her lip and looked over at the woman who was the closest person she had left to family. And with her thoughts in a whirl, she turned to the lady and confessed all. “Mrs Garraway, I am in such a tangle. Lady Pamela begged me to take her place tonight. Lady Osborn thinks I am her daughter.”