"Find your way through this labyrinth of passages," she said. "You never did tell me how you knew your way around the maze. Or the first girl you brought here for your nefarious purposes." She did her best to imitate him by arching an eyebrow, but she failed miserably.
"No." He grinned. "I never did."
"Jays!" she protested. "It's only fair. You discovered the truth about my petticoat and my modesty."
"Yes, I did." He grinned again. "And by the by, I like the 'modest' way you look in your black gloves, with your black, lace-edged, lawn petticoat pushed up above your knees, with your black stockings and lacy drawers exposed, and with your lacy black corset displaying your French pastries so beautifully."
She couldn't see his smoldering look in the shadows cast by the maze, but she could feel it; and every tantalizing squeeze of his hand, every moment spent walking politely side by side instead of in each other's arms, was pure torture and Sarah's body ached with the need for more kissing and touching.
She couldn't get the sight of him out of her mind. She couldn't forget the expression on his face as she'd brought him to satisfaction with her hand, couldn't forget the way his strong male body strained for release, the way that same powerful body had trembled uncontrollably as he found it, and the flush of embarrassment he'd suffered when he'd opened his eyes and remembered where he was and what he'd just allowed her to do.
She had wondered if he'd felt the same way when he'd brought her to satisfaction with his fingers. Now she knew. "I'm wearing black because I'm in mourning, otherwise you'd have seen the modest way I look in my white gloves, with my white, lace-edged, lawn petticoat pushed up above my knees, and my white stockings and white lacy drawers exposed, and with my lacy white corset displaying my French pastries so beautifully."
"And if I prefer you in black?" He echoed her earlier sentiment.
"That can be arranged," she said simply. "So long as you tell me how you know your way around this maze so well."
"I may take you up on that," he warned. "I may show up at your door in the wee hours of the morning offering more lessons in exchange for a chance to catch you in your black undergarments."
"I'll look forward to it," Sarah answered honestly. "So long as you keep your end of the bargain and tell me who you've brought to the maze."
"You are stubborn, aren't you?"
"As stubborn as you are," she retorted.
"All right, Miss Jealous Nosey Nell, I'll tell you." He relented. "The first girl I brought to the folly was my nursemaid."
"Your nursemaid?"
He nodded.
"You brought your nursemaid to the Garrisons' garden?"
"Actually, she brought me to the maze and not the other way around. I was three or four, I believe, and the garden didn't belong to the Garrisons then," he said. "It belonged to the Shepherdstons. It was my family home. I was born here." He squeezed Sarah's fingers. "I know the maze like the back of my hand because I used to play in it." Jarrod took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it. "My great-grandmother spent a small fortune constructing the folly. She had it built in the garden shortly after she and my great-grandfather built the house. My great-grandfather called it Eleanor's Folly after her. When I was small, it was my playhouse. And later…" He paused, struggling for words. "Later, it was used for other purposes."
"For trysting?" she asked.
"In a manner of speaking," he said. "But I haven't been inside the folly or on the property at all since I was six and ten years old. And tonight is the first time I've ever used it for anything other than a place where I could be alone."
Eleanor's Folly had been his favorite hideaway from the time he'd been old enough to find his way to it until he'd sold the house and grounds. It had been his escape from the unbearable situation inside the main house. When he was home from school, Jarrod had spent most of his waking hours in it because Eleanor's Folly was the place he loved most.
But when Jarrod inherited the title of Marquess of Shepherdston, he'd sold the Richmond house and Eleanor's Folly to the present Lord Garrison's father to escape the memories.
The present Lord Garrison had inherited it, along with his father's title, when his father died.
Jarrod had sworn never to set foot inside the house or on the property again. And he'd kept that promise for fifteen years.
He'd broken it tonight because Sarah Eckersley and her aunt had asked him to escort them to Lady Garrison's ball.
"Then I'm doubly honored you made an exception for me," Sarah told him. "Thank you, Jarrod."
"You're welcome, Sarah."
They entered another turn in the maze. Jarrod leaned toward her and was about to give her another kiss in the moonlight when a man and woman came around the corner.
"There you are." Lady Dunbridge hurried toward Sarah. "You disappeared in the crowd of dancers and I lost sight of you."
"Jarrod asked to show me the garden," Sarah told her. "But I should have let you know where we were going before I left the ballroom."