A Little Bit Sinful (23 page)

She gave Cook three different copies of the weekly menu, confusing the poor servant utterly. Eleanor sat diligently at her writing desk, staring blankly at the parchment for nearly an hour, trying to compose a simple thank-you note. She requested a footman bring her four vases while neglecting to ask for the flowers that would be placed inside them.

Daydreaming intermittently, she attended the theatre party hosted by Lord Waverly. It was a lively affair, comprising a group of people who were friendly and boisterous. That was, Eleanor decided, a good thing, since her thoughts were so consumed
by Sebastian, she was incapable of even pretending an interest in conversation.

Try as she might, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and relive those wicked, sensual moments they had shared in Madame Claudette’s dressing room. The feel of Sebastian’s hands and lips caressing her quivering flesh, the passionate intensity in his eyes. And each time she recalled those earth-shattering moments, she felt a rush of secret happiness.

She knew he was an accomplished rake, an experienced lover, yet she had never dreamed the erotic, exquisite sensations he evoked in her were possible. The incident had changed her, in a way that made her feel more womanly, more worldly.

Following Bianca down to the drawing room to await their afternoon callers, Eleanor caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. These restless thoughts of Sebastian had brought a glow to her face revealing all her inner emotions, yet she almost didn’t care. Almost.

These feelings were too new, too raw, too private to share. Fortunately, Bianca was so caught up in her own romance with Lord Waverly, she had little time to ponder the reason for Eleanor’s distracted behavior.

Lord Waverly was, not surprisingly, their first visitor that afternoon. He was soon followed by several other gentlemen, the usual legion of Bianca’s admirers, and several ladies. The men gathered around Bianca, while Lord Waverly stood protectively close and glowered at them. Bianca held court on one end of the room; Eleanor sat with the ladies on the other.

Eleanor hoped the afternoon callers would provide
some distraction and help the time pass more quickly. Eight more hours! Eight more hours until they left for the Sinclairs’ ball, until she saw Sebastian again.

Heavens, how am I ever going to make it?

Eleanor stared down at her teacup, absently noting the cobalt blue of the pattern. Lifting her head, she realized there was an uncomfortable silence and she noticed Lady Mary and Mrs. Farnsworth exchange a curious glance. Apparently one of them had asked her a question.

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally, pouring more tea into her nearly full cup.

Mrs. Farnsworth looked a bit doubtful but was too polite to say anything. Eleanor wondered idly what she had been asked, then decided she didn’t much care. The clock chimed on the half hour.
Oh goodness, still seven and a half more hours until I see Sebastian.

Determined to occupy her mind with something else, Eleanor struggled to pull her wandering thoughts back to the moment. She tried valiantly to concentrate on Mrs. Farnsworth’s comments, realizing she had to be careful or else she’d make a fool of herself.

Really, all that was required was that she murmur and nod and appear interested in what the women were saying. Even in her current distracted state of mind, she could manage it if she tried hard enough. Couldn’t she?

Ten torturous minutes later Eleanor was congratulating herself on how well that was going when Harrison entered the room and announced, “Viscount Benton is calling, my lady.”

“Who?”

“Viscount Benton.”

“Now? He is here now?”

Harrison appeared startled and Eleanor realized how ridiculous she must have sounded. Of course he was here now; that’s what the butler had said.
Now! He was here now!

Eleanor’s heart leapt into her throat, choking all sound. Sebastian never made afternoon calls; she had scolded him about that just the other day. Yet he was here. Her heart burst with a shot of happiness so strong she could barely speak. Eleanor turned a desperate eye toward her sister. Bianca bowed her head in acknowledgment, rose from her chair, and came to Eleanor’s side.

“Viscount Benton has come to call? How perfectly charming. Please show him in,” Bianca said regally.

Struggling to be calm, Eleanor set her tea aside. She turned a vapid smile on Lady Mary and Mrs. Farnsworth, trying to keep the emotions from showing on her face. She thought she succeeded rather well in maintaining an indifferent expression—that is, until Sebastian entered the room.

At the sight of him her mind flashed back to their illicit rendezvous and she felt the heat flooding her cheeks with color. He paused in the doorway, seeming surprised at the number of people in the room.

“Lady Eleanor, Lady Bianca,” he said with an elegant bow. “‘Tis a delight to see you both.”

Though Eleanor had not extended it, he took her hand in his own. Her breath hitched. The touch of his lean, strong fingers nearly had her melting on the spot. All she could think of was how his hands
had glided so skillfully over her flesh yesterday morning, how he had made her shiver and pulse with excitement.

Somehow she rallied, meeting his seductive gaze with a steady look. “What a lovely surprise. Welcome, Lord Benton.”

“Thank you.” He leaned closer to murmur in her ear. “I’ve recently been told that I don’t make enough social calls and am determined to reform my ways.”

His fingers closed tightly around hers and he squeezed her hand briefly. The intimate gesture pierced her heart and Eleanor dared not glance again into his eyes, certain she would lose all composure.

“My lord, may I introduce …” She glanced down at the two women seated on the settee and her mind blanked. What were their names?

Sebastian cleared his throat. “No introductions are necessary,” he said smoothly. “Lady Mary, Mrs. Farnsworth, a pleasure.”

The women acknowledged his greeting stiffly. There was a long, awkward pause. Eleanor searched her mind for an appropriate topic of discussion, yet found none.

“The weather is most fine this afternoon, is it not?” Bianca ventured.

“Yes, sunny, but not overly warm,” Sebastian replied.

“I believe spring is my very favorite season,” Bianca continued.

“Indeed.” Sebastian glanced at Eleanor, then looked away.

Mrs. Farnsworth and Lady Mary said nothing.
There was another awkward pause. Eleanor reached for the teapot, gave it a small shake, then signaled for a footman. “The tea is nearly gone. Please bring a fresh pot.”

Sebastian sat down in the chair closest to Eleanor. Bianca excused herself and returned to her bevy of admirers.

“That is a lovely frock, Lady Mary,” Sebastian said. “Perchance is it one of Madame Claudette’s designs?”

Eleanor nearly spewed out the lukewarm tea in her mouth.

“You are correct, Lord Benton. This gown is an original creation,” Lady Mary replied with a superior sniff.

“Ah, she does have a talented eye. Yet dressing a woman with your charms is hardly difficult.” Sebastian smiled, showing his white, even teeth. “I recently had the opportunity to visit her shop and found her items to be of the highest quality.”

Mrs. Farnsworth’s face lit with undisguised curiosity. “Whatever were you doing in a lady’s dress shop, my lord?”

“Browsing the merchandise,” he responded promptly. “Madame has some of the finest wares I have ever seen. Or felt.”

Eleanor felt her skin flare with heat. She cast him a scolding sidelong glance. He winked in response. She pulled out her white linen handkerchief and discreetly pressed it against her neck. Goodness, it was warm. Perhaps instead of tea she should be serving cold lemonade?

Eleanor sneaked another look at Sebastian. He was chatting amicably with her callers, moving his
hands elegantly as he entertained them. The ladies’ disapproving manner had relaxed somewhat under his charm, yet they were still a bit wary. She was certain they were wondering precisely why he was here.

A lock of his dark, silky hair suddenly fell over his brow. He brushed it back, yet it stubbornly fell forward again. Eleanor’s hand started twitching. She wanted to reach over and touch it, to twine it sensually around her finger. She wanted to curl herself into his lap, cuddling against his hard strength, to press her lips to his lips, to—

“Isn’t that correct, Lady Eleanor?” Sebastian asked.

“Absolutely.” She smiled broadly, struggling to regain her dazed senses.

He gave her a knowing smile, then continued with the story. Lady Mary and Mrs. Farnsworth were on the edge of their seats, expressions intent. It was not only the words he used to tell the tale, but the deep, sensual inflection of his voice that had his audience enthralled.

Eleanor had just decided that she would never grow tired of hearing his rich, deep baritone when a discreet cough sounded next to her. She glanced over and saw that her guests had risen to their feet.
Were they finally leaving?

“We shall bid you good day, Lady Eleanor, since there are several other calls we need to make,” Lady Mary announced.

Eleanor rose. Sebastian did the same and for an instant she panicked, thinking he was also going to depart. Without thinking, she reached for him. His eyes widened and he stepped deliberately in
front of her, concealing the telling gesture from the other women.

Finding her tongue at last, Eleanor croaked, “Thank you so much for coming. ‘Twas lovely to see you both,” she added, hoping the delight she felt at their leave-taking was not too obvious.

“I thought they would never go,” Sebastian hissed the moment they were alone.

“It was horrid,” Eleanor agreed. “I’m beginning to understand your aversion to these visits.”

“Let’s walk in the garden,” Sebastian suggested.

Eleanor groaned. “I can’t leave Bianca unchaperoned.” As if to emphasize the point, a chorus of male laughter was heard from the other side of the room.

“Damn, there has to be somewhere in this house where we can steal a moment alone.” Sebastian’s brow lifted. “Is there a library?”

Eleanor laughed. He was incorrigible. “There’s a bit of privacy to be found over there,” she said, pointing to a small alcove.

“I’ll go first. You follow in a moment,” he dictated before turning on his heel.

Eleanor took but one step into the alcove before Sebastian yanked her hard against his side.

“This has been torture,” he growled, taking her into his arms and kissing her fiercely.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss passionately as they shuffled farther into the concealed nook. Too soon, she pulled her lips away.

“We can only stay a moment,” she warned.

“Eleanor.” He framed her face with his palms and bent his head. The tenderness of his kiss was almost
unbearable. She trembled, her heart swelling with longing. With love.

After one more kiss, they reluctantly broke apart. Silence fell between them, his gaze passing over her in a way that made her feel special, cherished.

She presented him with a smile, though what she really wanted were more kisses. His eyes twinkled, as if he understood her need, indeed, shared it. But alas, though they had been daring and unconventional previously, this was hardly the time or place to indulge their passions, and they both knew it.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said.

“Most assuredly.”

Eleanor kept herself concealed in the alcove until Sebastian departed. Finally collecting herself, she emerged, nearly colliding with her father as she stepped out into the room.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing hiding back there, Eleanor?” the earl exclaimed.

Eleanor bristled. Why must her father always be so sharp with her? Swallowing around the thickness in her throat, Eleanor glanced over his shoulder, then realized the room was empty. “Has everyone left?”

“Nearly. Bianca is having a private word with a gentleman in my study. I expect to hear some good news shortly.”

Good news?
Eleanor’s mind worked quickly, the smug expression on the earl’s face giving her a solid hint. Assessing his pleased demeanor, she surmised it had to be a marriage proposal and one that would assure him of a significant monetary gain.

Her heart leapt with gladness. At last! Lord Waverly had made his decision and was proposing
to Bianca. His regard for her was obvious and she seemed to return it in equal measure. It was a good match for both of them, and thanks to Waverly’s title and wealth, an acceptable marriage for the earl.

Restless with excitement, Eleanor waited for the happy couple to appear. Within minutes the door opened and Bianca entered the drawing room. But Lord Waverly was not with her. Instead Viscount Farley was by her side.

A hollowness weighted Eleanor’s stomach as she watched them. She and Bianca had met Lord Farley only once and were not favorably impressed. He was an odious man with oily hair and a facial twitch that was both distracting and annoying.

Currently his face was flushed with excitement. He reached to take Bianca’s arm and she turned away, releasing a long, shuddering sigh. A tingling premonition traveled up Eleanor’s spine. She hurried to her sister.

“What’s happened?” Eleanor asked.

Bianca’s eyes were stricken, her face pale. “Lord Farley has proposed.”

“Good God, he’s older than Father.”

Bianca glanced nervously from the earl to Lord Farley, as the two men gathered around the sideboard for a drink. “Actually, I think they are the same age,” she whispered rigidly.

“Have you accepted him?”

Bianca flinched. “I asked for some time to consider his kind and generous offer.”

“Have your wits gone missing? Why didn’t you refuse him outright and be done with it?”

Bianca’s eyes glistened. “I couldn’t. Apparently
Papa owes him a great deal of money and he told me that I must accept this offer. Oh, Eleanor, what am I going to do? Lord Farley is simply dreadful. He held my hand as he proposed and it was all I could do to keep from screaming. He kept saying what an eminently suitable bride I was and how eager he was for the match.”