Page 5 of What a Lord Wants

But for this afternoon, perhaps, she could be herself again.

Truly, that was all she wanted—to be free to live her life with all the adventure and romance, love and joy she could seize for herself. Because she was so very terrified that she wouldn’t have it for long.

When Penelope didn’t seem swayed, she played her trump card. “Won’t Michael Thompson be at the breakfast?”

Her friend’s face lit up with a faint blush. “Do you think he will be?”

Eve hesitated. It was wrong to use Penelope’s affections against her like this. But who was to say that Lord Michael didn’t return her interest, just because she had yet to see the man talk to her friend once this season? “Oh yes! Henry Palmer told me so just yesterday. All the men from King’s College will be there.”

“Truly?” Penelope wavered between her duty as a companion and her unwillingness to miss Lord Michael. “You’re certain you’ll be all right by yourself?”

Oh for heaven’s sake!Thousandsof women ventured out into the city on their own every day and survived to do it again the next morn. Why were young ladies of thetonso frightened of going anywhere alone in broad daylight? What did they think would happen—a savage attack by vicious wolves roaming Grosvenor Square? A raid by Vikings from the Thames?

She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’s only Chelsea in the middle of the afternoon. Everything will be perfectly fine.”

More than fine, in fact. Simplyjoyousto escape!

“I’ll see you at Lady Bertram’s!”

With a wave goodbye, she fought to contain the bounce in her step as she nearly skipped to the wide avenue encircling the park. She signaled for a hackney, then gave the driver the direction and climbed inside. She settled back against the worn leather squabs with a deep sigh.

Free…if only for one precious hour.

No one would understand if she tried to explain how she felt. How she felt overwhelmed at times by a dread of the passing hours, by the desire to race forward and embrace as much of life as she could, by the need to justmove. Life was precious and could be taken away without notice. Her own mother’s life had ended suddenly, and Eve was terrified that the same would happen to her. That just like Mama, one day she would lie down to sleep and never wake up.

Faced with all that, she’d gladly take whatever breath of freedom she could capture. She couldn’t stop death from coming, but shecouldgrab hold of the life she had now with both hands and wring from it every precious moment possible. Even if only a short carriage ride across the city.

Already the tension was easing from her shoulders, and her chest rose and fell more lightly with each breath. That old familiar sensation that she loved crept through her, that tingling sense of excited anticipation, of freedom. The one she remembered from right before she and Mariah had plotted some wild endeavor that finely bred young ladies of thetonwould never have dreamed of committing but which they were just daring enough to do. One that chased away the darkness that always nipped at her heels.

For the first time in months, excitement pulsed in her veins. To return home—or, God forbid, go on to Lady Bertram’s breakfast—would have smothered her.

She watched out the window as the hackney wound its way south toward the Thames, from the avenues of Mayfair into the lanes of Chelsea, where the buildings were smaller, older, and made of rough brick and stone. Only the grand townhouses fronting the river along Cheyne Walk gave note that more than working-class Londoners lived here, but even those now held an air of disuse and abandonment, having become the haunt of artists, writers, and musicians who had been chased out of the more expensive rooms to the north and east.

When the carriage stopped, she slipped to the ground and handed up a coin to the driver. He nodded his gratitude and pointed toward a narrow, cobblestone alley lined with tall brick walls running parallel to the Walk. “Down th’ way, miss.”

“Thank you.” She hesitated, wondering if she should ask the man to wait, then decided against it. The day was so lovely and warm, and the thought of hurrying back to Mayfair—and back into her prison of boredom—was so unbearable that she wouldn’t mind waiting for another hackney to roll by once she had collected the painting.

By the start of next season, she could put this whole foolishness with Burton Williams behind her and ease back into her old life, when she would be allowed to attend whatever diversion she chose with little supervision from Papa or Mariah. But until then, she had to seize her moments whenever she could get them.

And thiswas a moment to seize!

Humming to herself, she strolled down the narrow alley. It ran behind the service yards of terrace houses on the north side and was fronted on the south by a series of mews that served the grand residences of the Walk. The scent of horses and the nearby river mixed in the afternoon air, and a church bell rang quietly. Thick ivy spilled over the brick wall, and she stepped carefully over fresh puddles from that morning’s rain. Now, not a single cloud marred the porcelain-blue sky.

She had no idea which of the buildings was the one she sought, or why Lord Ellsworth’s man would send her here, of all places. But breathing in deeply the glorious day around her, oh, she simply didn’t care!

A young man walked briskly toward her.

She stopped him with a smile and showed him the card. “Do you know where I can find this place? I’m looking for a paint—”

“Of course,” he drawled in a heavy Italian accent. Then he took the liberty of raking a licentious gaze over her from face to feet, one that lingered at her bosom long enough that she uncomfortably placed her hand at her neckline. He yelled over his shoulder. “Maestro! La nuova ragazza è arrivata. E lei è niente come previsto.”

He grinned at her and gestured toward one of the carriage houses near the end of the alley. Then he walked on, swinging his hand to slap her on the bottom as he stepped past.

She jumped. Instant outrage flashed through her, but the glare she shot him only elicited a laugh. Oh, that arrogant cad!

“Arse,” she whispered and raised her head higher as she stomped away.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the carriage house, then hesitated. The green double doors hung open wide, and she peered inside. She frowned. This couldn’t be right.