for lovers to shelter while they exchanged kisses.
"You're not carrying a sword tonight, I hope?"
The voice made me jump, and I leapt to my feet. My heart beat against my chest as he stepped from the hedge like a topiary come to life.
I dropped a quick curtsey. "No, your grace, shotgun tonight." I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder.
In the pale light I saw the smile on his face. "Seth, remember? We had this conversation." He wore a black dinner jacket and crisp white shirt, but had pulled apart his bow tie and it hung loose around his neck. "I thought you hadn't come. I asked Warrens to ensure you were invited, but you never appeared inside."
He invited me? Did that mean he had flushed out my hiding spot? "I arrived with my relatives. They are inside and no doubt they will sorely miss your presence." Brilliant Ella, that entire sentence was truthful, not a single lie needed.
He laughed. "Ever seen a cat toy with a mouse? The way it will bat it back and forth just for its own entertainment? That's what I felt like in there — the mouse. Flicked back and forth to keep the women entertained."
Personally, I would compare my step-relatives to a venomous snake. Or perhaps a boa constrictor, given the way Louise clutched at him. She looked like she could break a few of his ribs before trying to devour him.
"Why didn't you come in? I was looking for you." He moved closer with feline grace, no battered mouse here.
Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was wearing a dress. At least I appeared in the dark to be another dinner guest. "Because after how we parted at the manse, I thought I might not be welcome."
He stopped and that piercing gaze held mine. "Oh, Ella." He took my hands in his, and drew me over to the bower.
I followed his lead and dropped onto the seat, although it was awfully intimate, a mere fraction of an inch separated our bodies. He let my hand go, and we sat in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry, I never mean to offend. It's just that watching you dispose of that poor turned woman brought back memories I would rather leave buried."
I swallowed. Having spoken to Frank this evening, I was starting to understand. Burying many aspects of the war helped these men piece their lives back together.
"I was stationed on the Northern front, and I saw men who delighted in the slaughter. Pleas for mercy meant nothing to them. They had black, soulless eyes like a shark and would laugh as they drove the bayonet into a wounded man."
I frowned, this evening just got worse. "You think I have soulless eyes?"
"No." His grey eyes widened. "Quite the opposite. If the eyes are the windows to the souls, then yours are a masterpiece stained glass window residing in a great cathedral. Breath-stealing beautiful, a man could spend a lifetime studying every nuance and shade and the underlining meaning in their complexity." His gaze remained fixed on mine.
"Oh." One little syllable was all I could manage. What on earth did a girl say in response to that ?
"Never did I mean to liken you to them." He reached out and took my hand. "Some memories of war bubble to the surface and won't stay submerged."
He's holding my hand. The duke, holding the hand of the housekeeper's daughter. I looked around, first to check if anyone was watching to denounce me, and then a giggle of joy burst up in my chest. He was holding my hand. What strange power such a simple act possessed, all my consciousness focused on the point of contact. He warmed me, and liquid heat spread up my arm as though I had chugged back father's best brandy.
"The war hasn't ended though, it just changed," I whisper.
"You are extraordinary," he said. "I have never met another woman quite like you." His other hand caressed the side of my face. He leaned closer and his scent wrapped around me, mingling with the surrounding jasmine. He pulled me toward him.
His lips brushed against mine in the barest butterfly kiss. I gasped as electricity arced between us. He let go of my
"You're not carrying a sword tonight, I hope?"
The voice made me jump, and I leapt to my feet. My heart beat against my chest as he stepped from the hedge like a topiary come to life.
I dropped a quick curtsey. "No, your grace, shotgun tonight." I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder.
In the pale light I saw the smile on his face. "Seth, remember? We had this conversation." He wore a black dinner jacket and crisp white shirt, but had pulled apart his bow tie and it hung loose around his neck. "I thought you hadn't come. I asked Warrens to ensure you were invited, but you never appeared inside."
He invited me? Did that mean he had flushed out my hiding spot? "I arrived with my relatives. They are inside and no doubt they will sorely miss your presence." Brilliant Ella, that entire sentence was truthful, not a single lie needed.
He laughed. "Ever seen a cat toy with a mouse? The way it will bat it back and forth just for its own entertainment? That's what I felt like in there — the mouse. Flicked back and forth to keep the women entertained."
Personally, I would compare my step-relatives to a venomous snake. Or perhaps a boa constrictor, given the way Louise clutched at him. She looked like she could break a few of his ribs before trying to devour him.
"Why didn't you come in? I was looking for you." He moved closer with feline grace, no battered mouse here.
Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was wearing a dress. At least I appeared in the dark to be another dinner guest. "Because after how we parted at the manse, I thought I might not be welcome."
He stopped and that piercing gaze held mine. "Oh, Ella." He took my hands in his, and drew me over to the bower.
I followed his lead and dropped onto the seat, although it was awfully intimate, a mere fraction of an inch separated our bodies. He let my hand go, and we sat in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry, I never mean to offend. It's just that watching you dispose of that poor turned woman brought back memories I would rather leave buried."
I swallowed. Having spoken to Frank this evening, I was starting to understand. Burying many aspects of the war helped these men piece their lives back together.
"I was stationed on the Northern front, and I saw men who delighted in the slaughter. Pleas for mercy meant nothing to them. They had black, soulless eyes like a shark and would laugh as they drove the bayonet into a wounded man."
I frowned, this evening just got worse. "You think I have soulless eyes?"
"No." His grey eyes widened. "Quite the opposite. If the eyes are the windows to the souls, then yours are a masterpiece stained glass window residing in a great cathedral. Breath-stealing beautiful, a man could spend a lifetime studying every nuance and shade and the underlining meaning in their complexity." His gaze remained fixed on mine.
"Oh." One little syllable was all I could manage. What on earth did a girl say in response to that ?
"Never did I mean to liken you to them." He reached out and took my hand. "Some memories of war bubble to the surface and won't stay submerged."
He's holding my hand. The duke, holding the hand of the housekeeper's daughter. I looked around, first to check if anyone was watching to denounce me, and then a giggle of joy burst up in my chest. He was holding my hand. What strange power such a simple act possessed, all my consciousness focused on the point of contact. He warmed me, and liquid heat spread up my arm as though I had chugged back father's best brandy.
"The war hasn't ended though, it just changed," I whisper.
"You are extraordinary," he said. "I have never met another woman quite like you." His other hand caressed the side of my face. He leaned closer and his scent wrapped around me, mingling with the surrounding jasmine. He pulled me toward him.
His lips brushed against mine in the barest butterfly kiss. I gasped as electricity arced between us. He let go of my
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