The Lady Is Daring

by Megan Frampton

  “Well.” Not an auspicious beginning, but then how did one speak to the gentleman who’d inserted his penis into one the night before?

  “Good morning,” Ida continued, feeling her face warm. She had slept surprisingly well, given that she was sleeping on the floor on a horse blanket.

  But perhaps the good sleep was due to his being there, wrapped around her body, his hand on her belly, his face tucked into her neck.

  She’d never slept so intimately with anyone before, and at first she’d thought it would be difficult or uncomfortable.

  Like you can be, she admitted to herself. But he didn’t seem to find her difficult or uncomfortable. Or when he did, he also seemed to find it amusing. That, more than the penis-insertion or the fact that they were together at all, might be the most surprising thing. That they laughed together so often. That they amused each other.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder, his hand moving from her belly to cup her breast. “A very good morning indeed,” he continued, stroking the nipple. She arched into his palm, feeling his erection behind her.

  “Mmm, I wish we could, but I want to get walking as soon as possible,” she said. “Della is only a few miles away.”

  She couldn’t forget why she was on this madcap journey. To find Della. To make certain she was all right, to bring her and Nora home.

  Even though they’d both have to face what “home” meant when they returned to London.

  “Of course.” He released his hold on her, and she mourned the loss, even though she appreciated he’d done what she’d asked.

  That was rare also—a person who respected another’s wishes. Who didn’t have to be asked twice to do something.

  She got dressed quickly, frowning as she put on her still-damp clothing.

  “It shouldn’t be more than an hour or so walk from here,” he said as he—much to Ida’s regret—put his shirt on.

  “Wonderful.” Even though that would mean the end of this, all of this, of discovering what his skin felt like, tasted like. She knew well enough she wasn’t his choice for his future. She was something that happened, just as he was something that had happened to her.

  She had her own plan, one that didn’t and couldn’t include him. Find Della, persuade her to return with her, find somewhere to live all together.

  They left the cabin, Ida casting one regretful look behind her.

  This was it. This was the end of this part of the adventure.

  She wished it didn’t also feel like the end of her life.

  Not to mention wishing she could end her overly dramatic thoughts.

  Bennett glanced up at the sky, noting the dark, ominous clouds. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t get caught in another rainstorm. Although if that meant they had to find shelter again, with the same results, he would welcome all the rain.

  Damn it. He loved her. But because he loved her, he wouldn’t push her into something she didn’t want. She deserved to be treated with respect, not told she should do something because someone else felt a certain way. His thoughts were muddled, chasing themselves like squirrels up a tree.

  I love her, she has a certain future in mind, doesn’t she deserve to know how I feel about her? But that puts her under an obligation, an obligation I know she won’t submit to, so all I’d be doing is being selfish by telling her.

  God damn it. There was no way out of this. Or if there was, it would take someone with Ida’s intelligence to sort it all out. And he couldn’t ask her, so here he was back again.

  He just wished this journey had been longer. That there had been one more night to taste her, to savor her, to love her as thoroughly and satisfyingly as he possibly could.

  Crack.

  God damn it again. The rain was coming once more, the skies opening up as quickly as they had yesterday, drenching their still-wet clothing from the day before. If he were more solipsistic, he’d think the weather was reflecting his mood.

  “We don’t have a choice. We’ll just have to walk until we get there,” he said as Ida looked back at him questioningly.

  She nodded, quickening her pace.

  They reached the town about forty-five minutes later, both of them sodden.

  “It’s here,” Ida said as they walked up the path to a small house. They’d stopped at the inn in the town and gotten directions for Della’s house, along with a few skeptical glances.

  Whether that was because Ida and Bennett were strangers, or because they were currently wetter than most fish in the ocean he didn’t know.

  She hesitated at the door, then raised her fist and knocked.

  The door swung open a few moments later, revealing a woman of Caribbean descent.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, glancing from Ida to Bennett, a curious expression on her face. Her voice was smooth and cultured, her gown a ladies’ gown, not that of a servant.

  Surprising, but he shouldn’t be surprised—the Howlett sisters were nothing if not unexpected.

  “I am looking for Della,” Ida explained. “I don’t know what name she is using, but her name is Della. Does she live here? We were told she does.” She sounded anxious, and he felt his chest constrict at her obvious emotion.

  The woman’s face cleared, and she smiled. “Oh. You’re one of the sisters.” She brought her finger up to her cheek and tapped it as she thought. “Are you Lady Eleanor?” She peered at Bennett. “And this is Alexander?”

  “No, I’m Ida.”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, Ida. The smart one.”

  “Yes, that’s me.” Ida took a deep breath. “But is she here?” Ida repeated, glancing past the woman’s shoulder into the house.

  “Of course, my apologies,” the woman said, swinging the door wider so as to allow them entry. “She’s teaching at the moment, but she will be done shortly.”

  They went in, Bennett feeling protective of his Ida even though she was neither his Ida nor was there anything to be protective about. The house was cozy and charmingly furnished, a few scattered rugs on the wooden floors, children’s toys scattered in what was clearly a well-lived-in area just to the left of where they stood.

  “Please come in. Would you like tea?”

  “I’m a bit worried about getting everything wet,” Ida said as the woman brought them into the room to the right, a small space that held a sofa, a few tables, and some comfortable-looking armchairs.

  “Don’t fuss about that. I’ll just put something on the sofa,” the woman replied, grabbing a blanket from the back of a chair. “Tea?” she repeated.

  “Yes, thank you. Lemon, if you have it.” Ida extended her hand. “You know who I am, but I am not certain who you are?”

  “Oh, of course,” the woman said, taking Ida’s hand in hers. “I am Mrs. Sarah Wattings. Della and I share this house and share the teaching duties. She said she’d written her sisters about that? Her Nora and my Emily are about the same age.”

  “Oh, you’re the lady Della wrote us about. I’d forgotten that part. I was so struck by the inclusion of the town on the paper.”

  Mrs. Wattings looked confused. “The town?”

  Ida gave a vigorous nod. “Yes, Della’s most recent letter had the faint outline of the word Haltwhistle on it. So when we saw that, I knew I had to come.”

  Mrs. Wattings laughed, shaking her head. “I believe the children were practicing their writing. One of them must have gotten hold of the letter, and let the clue slip.” She smiled at Ida. “But I can’t say I’m sorry you’ve come. Della has missed you.” She looked over at Bennett.

  “Oh, this is Lord Carson.” No explanation of why they were traveling together, nor of their relationship.

  Although what would she say? This is Lord Carson, the gentleman who did not marry two of my sisters and will not be marrying me. This is Lord Carson, who has seen me naked.

  This is Lord Carson, who I will not be marrying.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Mrs. Wattings held her han
d out, a speculative look on her face.

  He took her hand and shook it.

  “Sarah, we’re done,” a voice called from down the hall. Ida stiffened, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement, and Bennett looked to the door, every sense on alert to ensure she would be protected, no matter what occurred.

  A woman strode in, accompanied by two children of approximately the same age on either side. One clearly was Mrs. Wattings’s daughter, while Bennett presumed the other was Nora.

  “Oh!” Della exclaimed, her eyes wide as she stared at Ida. “I—”

  And then Ida rushed forward, clasping her sister in a hug, her shoulders shaking.

  Bennett felt his throat tighten as he watched. The sisters were holding on to one another, both of them crying, while the two little girls stared up, their eyes wide.

  Eventually, the sisters withdrew from one another, teary and smiling.

  Della recovered enough to speak, gesturing toward Ida. “This is your aunt, Nora. This is Ida.”

  The little girl looked up at Ida, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know I had an aunt.” She looked at her mother. “What is an aunt?”

  Both women began to laugh.

  Ida knelt down in front of her niece. “An aunt is the sister of a mother. I am your mother’s sister. So I am your aunt.”

  “Oh,” Nora said, her eyes wide.

  Ida held her hand out for the little girl to shake. “I am so glad to meet you, Nora. And this is—?”

  “This is my friend Emily,” Nora said, holding the other girl’s hand.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Emily,” Ida replied, shaking Emily’s hand as well.

  “But where did you come from? And why are you here? How long are you here? Who’s that?” Nora asked, her questions strung together with no pauses.

  “Let’s go find a treat,” Mrs. Wattings said, her tone making it clear she was accustomed to being obeyed. And that Nora often had many questions. “I’ll make tea,” she added as she walked out, accompanied by the girls.

  “And biscuits? And bread?” Nora asked as they walked out of the room.

  Della regarded them with a warm look in her eye, then she turned and gave a questioning look toward him. Ida, he noticed, blushed.

  Ida addressed him. “My lord, please allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Della Howlett. Della, this is Lord Carson.”

  The other woman stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She looked similar to her sister, but wasn’t as dramatically black and white in coloring. Instead, she was lushly beautiful, with a generous mouth, a tumble of brown hair, and an equally generous figure.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Lady Della’s voice was quiet but confident. “Thank you for escorting my sister.” She looked at Ida again, her expression softening. “I knew one of you would show up eventually. I shouldn’t be surprised it is you. You are the most obdurate of sisters.”

  “I will take that as a compliment,” Ida replied, going to sit on the sofa, leaning down to remove her wet shoes. A puddle began forming at her feet. “We’ll need to hire a carriage to return to London. Ours went missing. We can wait a few days while you settle things.” She spoke as though it were a certainty. As always, Bennett admired her confidence, but knew that it was misplaced in this moment.

  A fact confirmed when Lady Della spoke.

  “Return to London?” She sounded startled. “I don’t plan on doing that, Ida, no matter how far you’ve come. I want you to stay for a while, but I won’t be returning.”

  “Not return?” She looked at Bennett, scowling. “For goodness’ sake, can you sit down, please? You’re all looming over there.”

  Bennett shared a commiserating look with Lady Della, then sat next to Ida on the sofa, ensuring he was sitting only on the blanket so as not to damage the furniture too much.

  Lady Della sat in one of the opposite chairs, folding her hands in her lap. It was easier to see the resemblance between the two sisters when Lady Della was looking stubborn.

  Which Bennett would not be pointing out to Ida. Or Della, for that matter.

  “I love that you traveled all this way, and I am grateful to see you. But I can’t go home.” She held her hands out in a broad gesture. “I have a life here. Sarah and I teach the girls, and we’re happy.”

  “But you’re not with your family,” Ida replied, her mouth set in a firm line, betrayed by the tremor of her chin. “Don’t you want Nora to know her aunts?”

  Lady Della blinked as though holding back tears. “Family means everything to me, Ida. I have family here. Sarah and her daughter are my family now. The children we teach are family as well. Do you truly want me to return to all that gossip? I highly doubt our parents will welcome me back with open arms.”

  Ida opened her mouth to argue the point, then snapped it shut again.

  Bennett had never seen her concede so quickly.

  Ida gestured toward her clothing. “If you could lend me a gown so I could get out of these wet things? And perhaps we could discuss this in private?”

  Della rose. “Of course, how unthinking of me not to ensure you are dry. My apologies.” She glanced at Bennett, frowning. “I don’t have anything you can wear, my lord. Perhaps you would want to borrow a dressing gown and we can air your clothes out by the fire?”

  “Thank you, yes,” Bennett said. Wandering around a stranger’s home in a dressing gown wasn’t the oddest situation he had found himself in during the course of the last few days.

  Chapter 15

  Adventure hurts.

  Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler

  “I won’t go back, Ida.”

  Della sat on the bed, her hands folded in her lap, her expression firm.

  Ida stood by the fire. She’d removed her gown, which was currently being cleaned by the housemaid whom Della had summoned on their way upstairs.

  If Della could afford help, perhaps her life here wasn’t as desperate as Ida had imagined. Perhaps it wasn’t imperative that Della return to London.

  But that would mean none of the sisters could get to know Nora, nor would Della have the opportunity to meet someone who would deserve her. Who would take care of her and Nora as they deserved.

  Was she being selfish, to want her sister to return?

  There was an element of that, certainly. Ida loved all of her sisters, and she wanted them to be in proximity to one another, even if two of them had gone off and gotten married, the traitors.

  But more than that, Ida wanted to get the opportunity to give Nora all the love in Ida’s heart, to let Della know that her actions weren’t to be deplored but applauded—she’d gone off of her own volition, realized she’d made a mistake, and taken responsibility for what she’d done, refusing to let it define her.

  Returning to London would give her the chance to announce that to everyone who still gossiped about the Duke’s Disgraceful Daughters, to show them that a good person can persist through adversity, that she isn’t knocked down when others think she should be.

  “Let’s talk for a bit,” Ida said, trying to remember everything Bennett had suggested. “You want Nora to know your sisters. Eleanor and Alexander are so happy, and Olivia and Edward are even more revoltingly so,” she said, as Della smiled.

  “You made a mistake,” she continued, with Della nodding agreement. “But that mistake doesn’t have to change your life irrevocably.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Della asked in a resigned tone. “I cannot imagine anybody would welcome me back. Nor do I want to come back, not if it means facing those people and that gossip.”

  Ida swallowed. It would be hard to argue against that, especially since she knew that her reputation would also be in tatters.

  “What if you don’t have to face them? What if you can just—just live with me and Pearl and open a home for scandalous women or something?”

  The reckless bravery of the idea would likely appeal to Della.

  Della tilted her head in thought. Clearl
y considering it. Ida felt herself relax just a fraction.

  Ida had not misread her reckless sister. It was that recklessness that had landed Della in this in the first place. Although it had also brought her Nora, who seemed like the light of Della’s life.

  “I don’t know, Ida. I will have to think about it. And talk to Sarah, of course.”

  Della rose, clearly finished with the conversation. Ida nodded, wracking her brain for more arguments to present.

  Later, when she was more dry and therefore, hopefully, more persuasive.

  The dinner that evening was the most unusual experience Bennett had ever had. Well, besides the event that had happened over the past few days, falling in love with Ida and all.

  Lady Della and her friend, along with their two girls, all ate together, a rollicking, noisy event where everyone was encouraged to share their opinion and comments.

  He’d never been with family that was so clearly adoring of one another, and also so convivial.

  It was charming while also entirely overwhelming.

  “Did you read the collection of Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems?” Della asked Ida, a sigh accompanying her question.

  Ida rolled her eyes. “You know I have no patience for poetry.”

  Della shot a mischievous glance toward Bennett. “I wasn’t sure if recent events might have persuaded you to try it again.”

  Ida bristled visibly, although Della did not appear daunted.

  “And it talks about those heartfelt emotions with such depth and strength,” Della continued.

  “I’m glad you haven’t given up on love,” Ida said in a soft voice. “It’s just that I don’t want to read those things when—” And then she stopped, looking down at her plate.

  When what? Bennett wanted to ask. When you don’t think you’ll have those things in your own life? When you are looking forward to a life with books and sisters and nothing else?

  When you know you won’t compromise to have the kind of life that poems are written about?

  Damn it.

  “So how exactly did you come to get here, Ida?” Lady Della asked, wiping her daughter’s face with a napkin. “Butter goes on the bread, Nora, not your cheek,” she said with a grin.