“But you only just said you couldn’t do it justice,” she pointed out. “I realize I sound dreadfully forward, but I really must know, and experience is the best teacher, is it not?”
“No, it isn’t,” he lied. “And you are not going to kiss a footman.”
“Then who? Felix or Lionel, perhaps? I’m fairly certain I can convince one of them to do it, if given the opportunity. The question is how to go about it?”
It was plain to see by the firm set of her jaw that she would not rest until she had experienced a kiss of her own. She didn’t seem to care who did the deed, only that the man did a thorough job of it. A quick peck on the lips wouldn’t satisfy her curiosities.
“Perhaps I could send a note to Felix and ask him to call on me,” she continued to muse. “We could take a stroll through the maze in the gardens. There is a hidden alcove on the south side, which could be quite perfect. We would have to evade Ruth, obviously, but—”
“Devil take it,” Brand growled as he pulled her to him. Her quick intake of breath was the only sound she made before his mouth covered hers. He had planned to make short work of the kiss—just enough to satisfy her—but the moment he felt the softness and warmth of her lips, he forgot all about research and books and lessons. His mouth moved over hers slowly and deliberately. At first, she stood frozen in place with her arms rigid at her side. Then, ever so cautiously, she began to respond, tilting her head a little to the side and matching his movements with some of her own. Eventually, her hands snaked up his chest, and she grabbed hold of his lapels, rising on her tiptoes to increase the pressure of the kiss.
She sighed, and Brand felt any control he still possessed slip away. His hands slid around to the nape of her neck, touching the softness of her hair and skin. How well she fit against him. Her hair smelled of lavender, and her lips tasted like apples and cinnamon. She kissed the way she expressed herself, with honesty, holding nothing back, and Brand had the distinct impression that he was embracing one of the most genuine women he had ever met. The thought wriggled into the crevices of his heart, making him feel something greater than desire.
Devil take it. What was he doing? He grasped her shoulders and pushed her away, keeping her at arms’ length as he struggled to regain his composure. What had begun as an education for her had escalated into something it shouldn’t have. How had he let that happen?
He looked at her beautiful, flushed face, mussed hair, and sparkling eyes, wanting nothing more than to pull her to him once more. Why couldn’t she be the eldest Gifford daughter? Why couldn’t she be the heiress of Talford Hall? Why couldn’t she be the one he should marry? Brand would have no trouble courting her. In fact, he would look forward to it.
Curse his wretched luck.
She drew in a shaky breath and stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes were round balls of darkness, peering at him in confusion and wonder.
At last she managed a tenuous smile. “I suppose I needn’t escape to the gardens with Felix any longer.”
“No. I suppose not.” Brand turned away, cursing inwardly. That kiss would be forever ingrained in his memory. How could he possibly go back to courting her sister after this?
“I can see now why you did not think you could adequately describe the sensation. It was quite… well, sensational, wasn’t it? Is that the way it always feels? I had expected it would be a pleasurable experience, but I had no notion it would feel so…” Her hands flew to her rosy cheeks. “Goodness, I can see now why men and women are so fond of kissing.”
She was making it deucedly difficult not to kiss her again. Brand wanted to tell her that not all kisses felt that sensational. Very few did, in fact. His lips still burned from the touch, and his heartbeat had yet to slow.
“I must thank you, Lord Knave, for answering my question so… well.”
Brand nearly answered, “It was my pleasure,” before he thought better of it. Although it had been a pleasure, he could never admit that to her. Let her think the kiss had been nothing more than an answer to a question and that all embraces felt that way. One day she would learn otherwise, but with any luck, the memory of their kiss would have faded by then. He could only pray it would eventually fade for him.
She crouched down to collect her pencil and paper, which she’d apparently dropped at some point, then walked over to take a seat on the log. She played with Scamp for a moment or two before lifting her gaze to his.
Her voice was a mixture of timid and hopeful when she asked, “Shall we return to my first question now?”
Her first question? Brand had to wonder if the kiss had affected her as much as it had him. A pink hue still stained her cheeks, but other than that, she seemed to have recovered from their embrace. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what that first question had been, only that he hadn’t wanted to answer it.
“Have you forgotten already?” she asked, correctly interpreting his expression. “Or are you simply hoping that I had forgotten?”
Brand looked away, thinking a dip in a cool pond might clear his head. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time.”
“No, please,” she begged. “If I am to make any progress at all beyond the first few chapters of my story, I must know what a man first notices about a woman. I realize I am asking a great deal of you, Lord Knave, but you are the only person I dare ask. Please do not desert me.”
Brand felt like he was being given a taste of the power his mother wielded over his father. Oddly enough, he found himself wanting to capitulate even though he knew it was a bad idea. He should leave at once and stay as far away from Miss Prudence as humanly possible.
Instead, he leaned his shoulder against the trunk of the tree and mustered an unaffected tone. Perhaps if he turned the tables on her, she would cease her pestering. “Tell me, Miss Prudence, what is it that you first notice about a man?”
The question didn’t seem to discomfit her at all. She pursed her lips in thought, tapping her pencil against her lower lip as she’d done before. After a moment, she lowered it to her lap and shrugged. “I suppose I first notice a man’s appearance—what he looks like and whether or not he is handsome. After that, I noticed how he carries himself. Is it with confidence or arrogance? Does he seem timid or skittish? Do his eyes have an intelligent look about them? Does he smile often, and is it a nice smile? Does he appear kind or critical? Is he someone I would wish to meet or do my best to avoid?”
Brand could only stare at her. He didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, but not that. It made him feel both shallow and unobservant. “You can detect all of that on first glance?”
“No. But I do look for those things, especially if the man is of interest to me. If I understand something about his nature first, it is easier to know how to speak with him should we meet. With some men, I can tell straightaway that my forthright ways will not shock them. Others, I am more cautious around, like Mr. Winston. One look was all it took to recognize that he was a serious-minded man who would not tolerate teasing. And he doesn’t—tolerate teasing, that is. Or speaking, for that matter.”
“In other words,” said Brand, “you form instant judgments of people.”
She nodded, not appearing the least bit abashed by her admission. “I prefer to think of them as conclusions. But don’t we all conclude things about each other in some way? I’m not saying I am always correct or that my mind cannot be changed. Some men have surprised me most pleasantly, yourself included.”
Brand dusted a few bark shavings from the sleeve of his coat before meeting her gaze. “I was the rake who met a woman in the library to arrange a lover’s tryst.”
She smiled a little. “Yes, but my low opinion of you started long before that.”
His eyes widened slightly. Was she in earnest? What could she have possibly found to despise in him? “Did you think me hideous?” he asked. “Arrogant? Sadly lacking in intelligence?”
She shifted positions slightly and leaned forward, res
ting her elbows on her knees. “Naturally, I did not think you hideous—you are far too handsome for that. While you may have struck me as a little arrogant, you appeared more confident than proud and definitely had a look of intelligence about you. In truth, what I found lacking in you was your character.”
He didn’t know whether to be amused or affronted by her candid assessment. “A man of low character from just one look?”
“It wasn’t only one look, my lord. You are to marry my sister, so I paid more attention to you than I would have otherwise done, and… well, you appeared to have a wandering eye.
Nothing she could’ve said would have surprised Brand more. A wandering eye? However did she form that conclusion?
She must have noticed the disbelief in his expression because she clarified, “I often saw your gaze travel in the direction of Mrs. Harper. The two of you exchanged several glances that appeared more flirtatious than friendly, and I didn’t know what else to think but the worst.”
Brand thought back to that evening. He and Catherine had been good friends for years, and he could see how someone might misinterpret their glances, especially someone as observant as Miss Prudence. Even his mother had remarked on the possibility of Brand developing feelings for Catherine. How many others present had thought the same?
Brand sauntered over to where Miss Prudence sat on the log and sank down next to her. A short stub of a branch knot dug into his backside, so he shifted closer to her, his arm brushing against hers. He became keenly aware of her proximity but couldn’t bring himself to move away.
“Before that night,” he explained, “it had been a year since I had seen Catherine. The last time I laid eyes on her, she had been dressed in black. Her eyes were red and swollen and contained a haunted, miserable look about them, and I wondered if I would ever see her smile again. So when I spied her across the ballroom, dressed in blue and looking almost like her old, vibrant self, I couldn’t help but seek her out. The joy in her expression was a wonderful sight to behold.” Indeed, it had been a balm to the guilt he had been shouldering for so long, allowing Brand to feel a measure of hope. How long had it been since he had felt that?
A soft smile touched Miss Prudence’s lips, and a newfound respect shown in her eyes. “I suspected that was your reason, but it is good to hear you say so. I certainly did form the wrong conclusions about you in the beginning, didn’t I? Forgive me?”
“Conclusions?” he asked, emphasizing the plural form of the word. “Never say you found more in me to dislike.”
She waved her hand flippantly. “Nothing of consequence. I merely assumed you were a bore.”
A bore? “You cannot be serious.”
“Indeed I am.” Her voice had a wistful quality to it, as though she was more bothered by the fact that she had been mistaken than wrongly accusing him.
“But we didn’t exchange more than a few words with each other,” he pointed out. “How could you possibly have come by that opinion?”
“Oh, it had nothing to do with your behavior that night. I made that assumption from something my sister said.”
“Your sister thinks I’m a bore?” If anyone could be described as such, it was Miss Gifford. Brand, at least, attempted to make lively conversation.
“No, Sophia does not think that—nor would she say if she did. She only mentioned that you rarely strayed beyond discussions about the weather or the graciousness of your hosts.” She turned to examine him. “Honestly, my lord, the weather? Could you think of nothing else to say? Now that I know you better, I find myself most surprised.”
Brand leaned back and glanced at the skies through the trees above. “Is it not a fine day today, Miss Prudence?” he said dryly. “Have you ever beheld a more glorious blue in the sky?”
She slapped his knee in a playful manner. “Do stop, sir. You know very well that we have more interesting things to discuss than the color of the sky.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately, your sister and I rarely do. The fact that we were able to converse about the weather for a time was a miracle.”
She didn’t answer right away. She only watched him, pursing her lips in that way he was coming to like far too much. How simple it would be to lean over and kiss her. Would she be shocked if he did? Would she believe him if he told her that kisses felt different while sitting and she needed to experience it from that perspective as well?
Brand pried his eyes away and focused on the antics of Scamp, who was currently following a beetle with his nose. Not far away, Brute lounged under the shade of a tree.
“I have it,” Miss Prudence said suddenly, placing her hand on his knee. As before, her touch had an instantaneous effect, wearing down his barely-veiled control.
“You have invited Sophia to dine with you at Radbourne tomorrow evening, haven’t you?”
“My parents have invited your entire family—you included.”
She waved off his last words. “I will most likely not be there, but Sophia will, and after dinner you must invite her for a walk through the gardens with Brute.”
“Brute?”
“Yes.” She nodded, appearing excited. “Sophia has always had an affinity with animals, though she will never admit it is anything out of the ordinary. But she is wrong. She’s quite brilliant with them and has never come across a creature that doesn’t warm to her instantly—with the exception of reptiles and rodents and insects, obviously, although a butterfly landed on her finger only last week. Anyway, she is a wonder with horses, dogs, cats, and the like. You should explain to her the problems you are experiencing with Brute, and I’ll wager my entire stash of pencils she’ll have a great many things to say on the subject. Not only that, but she will probably provide you with some valuable help where he is concerned.”
Brand refrained from telling her that Brute had already shown marked improvement, which he attributed mostly to her and Scamp. Still, he rubbed his knuckles across his lower lip as though considering her idea even though the thought of accompanying Miss Gifford on a walk through the gardens didn’t appeal to him in the least. Accompanying her younger sister, however, appealed far more than it should.
“Is there a reason you won’t be joining us at Radbourne on Friday?” he asked.
After all they had discussed—and experienced—Brand never would have imagined that such an innocent question could unsettle her. But that’s exactly how she appeared. Unsettled and ill at ease.
“I, er… well, I am not officially out yet, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she focused her gaze on a small patch of grass near her feet.
“And…” he prodded, wanting her to continue.
She pressed down on the grass with her slipper. “It’s simple, really. My mother feels as though Sophia should have her time in society first, which is perfectly understandable. My time will come later.”
“But you attended Mrs. Hilliard’s dance.”
“Only because Mother accepted the invitation before she knew—” Her voice stopped abruptly, and her cheeks became quite red. Unlike her sister, the sight was most becoming on her.
Brand leaned near her, pressing his shoulder into hers. “Come now, Miss Prudence. Do not turn prudent on me now.”
She worried over her lower lip a moment more taking a deep breath and blowing it out the side of her mouth in an expression of defeat. “Very well. If you must know, Mother granted me permission to attend the dance before she knew that you would be in attendance. As I am the more… outgoing of her daughters, she worries that I will draw too much attention away from Sophia. I never mean to do it, you realize, but…”
“It happens?” he finished for her, knowing the truth of it from his own experience.
She shrugged. “I suppose on occasion, but certainly not to the extent or in the way my mother thinks. In the eyes of most men, I am nothing more than an incorrigible child. How could I possibly pose any threat to Sophia? Not only is she beautiful, but she is poised and refined in a way that I can never hope to be.”
If Miss Prudence thought men viewed her that way, she thought wrong. The night of the dance, she had garnered the attention of most every man in the room, and the looks they gave her were certainly not the looks of doting big brothers. She was only fooling herself if she thought men viewed her as a child. Brand certainly didn’t.
“Does Sophia feel the same as your mother?” he asked. “Would she prefer that you remain at home as well?”
She shook her head. “Sophia is too kind-hearted to ever want that, and I think my presence makes her feel a bit more comfortable in society. She can be herself with me, you see, and it relieves her mind to know that I will fill in the gap if she’s ever at a shortage for words.”
Not for the first time Brand wondered what the eldest Gifford daughter was truly like. Did she have a sense of humor buried inside her somewhere? Did he have any hope of breaking through her shell if he exercised more patience? Did he even want to any longer?
When it came down to it, that was the crux of the problem. He didn’t. The more he pursued her, the less he wanted to make another attempt at it. A responsible and dutiful son would do whatever it took to align both families, but how could he advance his courtship with Miss Gifford when the memory of holding and kissing her sister would forever be emblazoned on his mind? It was Miss Prudence he wanted to court, not Miss Gifford.
Despite all this, Brand couldn’t give up on the eldest daughter just yet. It felt unfair to do so when, according to his mother and her sister, he didn’t know her. Perhaps she would pleasantly surprise him.
It was a hope he needed to cling to for the sake of his family.
“I think,” Brand forced himself to say, “that a stroll in the garden with your sister and Brute will be just the thing.” The words fell flat, but Miss Prudence didn’t seem to notice. A beautiful smile crinkled the corners of her eyes and revealed her adorable dimple, making Brand want to kiss her all over again.
Blast. Blast. Blast.
He dragged his body up from the log and whistled for Brute, knowing he needed to leave before he did something he’d likely regret. He had been a fool to suggest this meeting in the woods, and now it was time to retreat and regroup. He should be grateful Miss Prudence would not be coming to dinner with her family. Perhaps then he would be able to give her sister the attention she deserved.
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