least for her.
Please, please let this not be entirely an act for him.
He leaned back and the moment ended. He grinned, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, while she reeled as though the earth had moved.
"You might try the lobster cakes," he said. "They are devilish good."
"I'm not very hungry."
"Even for more strawberries?" He waved his fork over the remaining pile.
She shook her head. She might never eat again. But she could happily sit there and watch him dine. Or watch him do anything. Dear God, she was lost to him.
And yet he merely playacted.
While he ate and she pushed her food around the plate, they spoke of ordinary things, of friends and family, books and plays, and a dozen other mundane topics. All the while, though, Geoffrey kept up the pretense of infatuation, touching her, smiling, boldly staring at her with those splendid blue eyes. Anyone watching would assume they were in love. He was a fine actor. She teased him about treading the boards if he somehow lost his inheritance.
"Some roles are easier than others," he said. "I confess I am enjoying this one."
Most of the guests were still dining when Lord Tennison and Mrs. Wadsworth left the room. She watched the rakish nobleman with feigned interest. "What are we to do now?" she asked. "We cannot dance a third set together without causing gossip, not to mention giving my mother palpitations. How shall we proceed with our plan? Or perhaps Lord Tennison is leaving the ball? Oh dear." She infused her voice with disappointment.
Geoffrey turned slightly to watch the departing couple. "No, they are not leaving. They are going out the terrace doors."
"Oh. Do you think we should follow them?"
"A capital suggestion, my girl. Let's go ogle each other in the moonlight. Nothing could appear more romantic."
She felt many pairs of eyes on them as they left the supper room. No doubt tongues would be wagging as soon as they were out of sight. "Are you certain this is wise?" she whispered. "I fear people may get the wrong idea."
"That is the point, is it not? To make one particular person get the wrong idea?" He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "Do not vex yourself, Lydia. Taking a bit of air after supper with your brother's best friend is no scandalous thing. Trust me, no one will care."
She hoped he was right. She would hate for a general expectation to arise, forcing him into a situation he did not want, even if she wanted it desperately.
When they reached the terrace, Lydia saw Lord Tennison in a far corner standing very close to Mrs. Wadsworth. It looked as though they might have just ended a kiss, and Lydia turned away, embarrassed. Geoffrey led her to the opposite corner. He stood with his back to the balustrade and pulled her gently to his side so that she faced the garden. It was a beautiful, clear, temperate evening. The stars were out in force and the moon almost full, the air redolent of lilac and horse chestnut. It was the perfect setting for romance, with the perfect man at her side. If only …
He took her hand and discreetly held it behind him so that no one looking out from the ballroom could see. Neither could Lord Tennison, if he bothered to look, so she wondered why Geoffrey did it. She wanted to believe it was for himself and not for the sake of their ruse, but she tried not to get her hopes up. Though both were gloved now, she nevertheless felt the warmth of his fingers, especially when he began sketching lazy circles on her palm.
"I think we need to up the game a bit," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"If Tennison is the man you want, you must be prepared to play at his level. He is a man of the world, as you know, with a great deal of experience."
"With women."
"Yes. A great many women."
"And you think I am no match for all those other women? That he may find my youth and inexperience tiresome?"
He reached up and stroked her cheek. "You are more than worthy of any man's attention, my girl. To be perfectly honest, I don't think he is worthy of your attention. I may not like him, but it is not my place to judge your heart's desire. If he is the one you want, then I am here to help you win him. But, because he is so worldly, I suspect a few dances and moonstruck gazes are not enough to incite his jealousy. Tennison is a bold choice, Lydia, and you must be bold to win him."
A frisson of anticipation skittered down her spine. "What did you have in mind?"
"Come with me," he said. Keeping hold of her hand, he guided her to the steps leading down from the terrace.
"Where are we going?"
He merely smiled and led her into the garden, where gravel pathways were lit by paper lanterns hanging from trees. "I don't understand," she said. "How can we make Lord Tennison jealous if he can't even see us?"
He'd stopped at a stone bench tucked among the shrubbery. "It's what he will see when we return," he said, and pulled her to sit down beside him. Very close beside him.
"What will he see?"
"A woman who has been thoroughly kissed."
And there, bathed in the lush scent of a nearby lilac tree and the silvery light of the brilliant moon, he kissed her.
Tenderly, at first. His hand spread against the back of her head, angling his mouth over hers, while his other hand settled low on her back.
She did not care if he did this merely to provoke another man, she was in his arms and he was kissing her – it was what she had always wanted, her every dream and fantasy. And by God, she was going to take advantage of the moment. She kissed him back for all she was worth, twining her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his.
She felt the thumping of his heart beneath his shirt and waistcoat, or perhaps it was her own heartbeat. She could no longer distinguish his heart from hers. They were as one, synchronized, merged, united.
He parted her lips with a gentle nudging from his own, and all at once the kiss became lush and full and potently carnal as his tongue began an urgent twirling dance with her own. Good God, what was he doing to her? It was like nothing she had ever experienced or could even have imagined. It was earthshaking, soul-shattering – a kiss filled with hunger and tenderness, with promise and desire. She melted into it, allowing him to draw her tongue deeper into his mouth, and everything within her dissolved into molten liquid.
They kissed and kissed for what might have been hours or mere moments. When he finally lifted his head, he murmured her name. "Lydia, ah sweet Lydia." He skated his lips along her jaw to the hollow beneath her ear. Unprepared for the intense sensation his lips wrought on that particular spot – she'd had no idea it was so wonderfully sensitive – she caught her breath on a gasp and shivered with almost unbearable pleasure. She arched her neck in shameless invitation as his mouth moved lower. His lips parted and the velvety tip of his tongue against her flushed neck sent ripples of pure bliss shimmering along every inch of her skin. The jumble of new sensations was so dazzling that all rational thought vanished. A moan rose from the back of her throat. She gasped his name, over and over, while kneading his back and shoulders with restless desire.
The sound of his name seemed to renew his passion, for he brought his lips back to hers, and he plundered her mouth again, almost savagely. She responded with equal hunger, and they kissed until her head swam in a sort of dark, sensual haze.
When they finally broke the kiss, she leaned her forehead against his, her breath ragged and her heart in turmoil. "Geoffrey? Is this real? Or are we still playacting?"
"Does it seem like playacting to you?"
"No. Oh, I don’t know! You have my mind all in a whirl. I don't know what to think."
He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. "Sweet Lydia, I have a confession to make."
"Oh?"
"Hartwell was not detained, and he did not ask me to replace him tonight in your little scheme."
"He didn't?"
"No, I asked him. In fact, I all but begged him to allow me to take h
is place. When he told me of your plans, I knew I wanted to be the one to play the lovesick fool."
"But why?"
"So I would have a good excuse to do this." And he kissed her again. "And this." He trailed his lips along her jaw and down her throat. "And this." His tongue dipped into the cleavage of her bosom while one finger slipped inside the lace at her neckline until it found her nipple, just barely covered by her stays. She uttered a moan of shocked pleasure as he teased it.
"Oh God, Lydia." His voice was raw and breathless. "We must stop."
She buried her face in the crook of his neck. "This is real, then? You are kissing me because you want to and not because of Lord Tennison?"
"I have wanted to kiss you for ages, Lydia. And the devil take Tennison. Surely you do not really want him. Do you? Would you give me a chance instead?"
She threw her head back and laughed for joy. "Silly man. Of course I do not want that odious Lord Tennison. I have a confession, too, you know. What I told Daniel and Philip was true. I was indeed pining away for someone who never noticed me, and they really did help me contrive a plan to make that someone jealous. But it was not Lord Tennison. It was you."
"Me? I had assumed it was Garthwaite or Lonsdale or any of a number of eligible gentlemen – but when you named Tennison, I began to have my doubts. I knew you were up to something, and I dared to hope it might involve me."
"Wretched man! You knew all along I had lied about Lord Tennison?"
"Of course I did. You would never