Page 30 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

They gathered upon the sofa with hurried precision, arranging themselves into what they clearly believed to be the very picture of ladylike grace. Their hands were folded neatly, their backs straight, and their expressions carefully schooled into polite serenity, though the barely contained excitement in Jane and Sarah’s eyes betrayed them entirely. Their eagerness disconcerted Darcy, for the man inspiring it might never truly accept them into his life. Emelia, by contrast, appeared far more composed, and perhaps even a touch wary.

Darcy rose just as the door opened. The butler announced the earl, and then he was there. Lord Raine entered with unruffled composure, his presence filling the room in a manner at once commanding and unsettling. He bowed with elegant precision, his dark blue eyes unreadable as his gaze passed over them. Darcy resented the way her stomach tightened at the sight of him; a disquieting warmth spread through her and deepened the flush upon her cheeks.

Darcy curtsied with her sisters, though it required no small effort to maintain the calm civility expected of her. She kept her gaze steady, refusing to allow even the smallest flicker of recognition to betray the memories that lingered so vividly in her thoughts.

“My lord,” she said. “Your visit is unexpected.”

“Is that censure I hear, Miss Whitley?” he returned, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he looked to the others. He inclined his head to each of her sisters in turn, his manner impeccably polite.

“No, my lord. Only surprise.” Darcy folded her hands before her. “We are honored by your visit. Pray be seated.”

He did not sit. Instead, he regarded them for a moment, as though measuring something unseen.

“The weather is far too agreeable to waste indoors,” he said. “I have come to invite you all to Vauxhall Gardens.”

“To Vauxhall?” she asked, her eyes widening. “This evening?”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “If you are at leisure.”

Darcy glanced at her sisters, who looked as though they might expire from barely contained delight. “We would only require an hour to prepare, my lord.”

He inclined his head. “Take the hour you require. I shall wait.”

That was all the permission her sisters required. The moment propriety allowed, they swept from the room in a flurry of whispered exclamations and barely restrained excitement, their composure dissolving the instant they crossed the threshold. Darcy did not trust herself to speak further. She inclined her head once more and followed her sisters, her pulse already quickening at what the evening might hold.

Once in her chamber, she rang for a lady’s maid, still unaccustomed to having assistance in dressing, though she could not deny how much more efficiently matters now proceeded. Despite her assurance that they would be ready within the hour, nearly an hour and a half passed before they returned downstairs. The earl remained composed and unhurried, as though the delay held no consequence.

Her sisters wore new gowns, their stockings free of holes, their bonnets simple yet elegant. As they stepped outside, they bore a striking resemblance to the ladies of quality they so often watched from the window, and the sight tightened Darcy’s throat. Another swell of emotion rose in Darcy as the earl assisted them into the carriage one by one, his attention unflagging, his courtesy effortless. When at last he turned to her and extended his hand, she hesitated only a moment before placing her gloved fingers in his.

The contact was brief, entirely proper, yet Darcy remained acutely aware of his warm, masculine scent and of the memory lingering too near the edges of her thoughts.

The carriage ride passed in a curious blend of excitement and restraint. Jane and Sarah could scarcely contain their delight, their whispered speculations filling the confined space, while Emelia attempted, without much success, to maintain a silence befitting a proper young lady. Darcy, seated opposite the earl, kept her hands neatly folded in her lap and her posture exact, taking great care not to let her gaze wander to his mouth or his hands, lest they summon memories far too wicked to be indulged.

Every shift of the carriage drew her attention to his nearness, his stillness, and the quiet authority with which he occupied even so small a space. When at last the carriage slowed and came to a halt, a soft murmur drifted in from beyond: laughter, music, and the distant swell of voices carried upon the evening air.

Darcy stepped down with care, her gloved hand resting briefly in his as he assisted her to the ground. He then turned to her sisters, offering the same attentive courtesy as he helped each of them alight. Though they had only reached the entrance to the gardens, their soft gasps of wonder spoke volumes.

He paid their admission, and Darcy could not help but note the length of the queue, surprised by the sheer number gathered for admittance. More than once, she glanced at him, a question forming upon her lips, though she found herself at a loss as to how to begin. His reserve unsettled her. How had he envisioned this evening unfolding? Had he truly envisioned guiding four near-strangers through an evening of pleasure in silence?

They passed through the gates, and in that instant, Darcy forgot the earl entirely. The gardens opened before her in a grand and dazzling spectacle. Rows of illuminated lamps hung like constellations brought down to earth, their glow softened by the surrounding greenery. The broad walks were alive with fashionably dressed crowds, the hum of conversation mingling with bursts of laughter, the strains of music, and the distant call of performers.

“Oh!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

Jane clasped her hands together, turning in a slow circle as though she could not take it all in at once. “It is beautiful.”

Emelia’s gaze softened, her reserved composure giving way to quiet awe. “I have never seen anything so alive. Where shall we begin?”

“The Grand Walk first,” he said with a small smile. “You may judge whether its thousands of colored lamps deserve their fame.”

“Thousands?” Sarah cried. “How can anyone light so many?”

“Come,” he said, his tone easy. “Let us begin the evening’s delights.”

The tension in Darcy’s chest loosened at the sight of their anticipation. He guided them along one of the main walks, the lantern light casting a warm glow upon the gravel beneath their feet. The air was rich with the scent of blossoms and a warm summer night, threaded with the distant promise of wine and sweetmeats.

The girls skipped ahead, laughing as they went along, pausing at times to admire flowers and the myriad lights, and sometimes even staring at the sky as if they expected to see something dazzling there. They had not gone far before the sound of applause rose ahead of them. A small crowd had gathered near an open space, where a pair of tumblers moved with astonishing grace and daring. One vaulted high into the air, turning with effortless precision before landing upon the shoulders of the other, who balanced with a strength that drew gasps from the assembled spectators.

Sarah clutched Jane’s arm. “Did you see that? Oh, he will fall!”