Just One Kiss

by Dayna Quince

  Just One Kiss

  Hot Historical Romance

  Dayna Quince

  Copyright © 2013 by Dayna Quince

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contact Dayna at daynaquince.com

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Sneak Peek!

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  About the Author

  Also by Dayna Quince

  Prologue

  Hazel watched Anabelle depart with a measure of sadness. Her sister was gone, not permanently, of course, but they no longer lived together. They would no longer share a wall or a midnight talk when one of them had a bad dream. She pushed away from the doorway and slipped through the crowd to the stairs. She was suddenly feeling weepy, and she didn’t want anyone to see. On the first floor, she stepped behind a pillar and took a breath. She closed her eyes, tightly pinching them against the pressure of tears.

  “Do you wish to be alone?” The voice startled her.

  Her eyes popped open, and she found a familiar face staring across from her from the alcove of a recessed window.

  “Lord Bainbridge, I did not see you there.” She had that breathless feeling in her chest again. She always had it when she saw him.

  “That was evident. I should have made my presence known to you. My apologies.” He nodded politely.

  “No apologies are necessary.” Hazel tried to sound casual.

  “The view is lovely from here. One can see most of the drive. Your sister and her new husband are departing,” he informed her.

  “I know, I just… I will miss her dearly, and I needed a moment to compose myself.”

  “That is understandable. I can see how it must be difficult to lose one’s sibling, even on such a happy occasion as marriage.”

  “Yes, but I shall prevail.” Hazel attempted to joke. “I know I will see her again soon. It’s just strange to be apart when we’ve never been apart. Change is scary.”

  “Come see her. You will regret it if you don’t.” He waved her over.

  Hazel stepped forward, but the window recess was not roomy, and she would be standing very close to him.

  “Come, Lady Hazel. I only have the best intentions.” He smiled.

  Hazel was caught off guard by the effect of that smile. She stepped closer to him and turned to face the window. She could feel his nearness. With very little effort, she could lean back against him. It was so very tempting. She looked out the window as Draven and Anabelle were waving from the window of the carriage as it rolled down the drive.”

  “Everyone fears change, Lady Hazel, but without it, there would be no butterflies,” he said behind her.

  She stilled. She felt the words as if they were spoken against her skin. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. She didn’t have anything to say, or rather, couldn’t form anything coherent enough worth saying. He smiled as he looked down at her. Then it faded, and he looked very serious.

  “Just one kiss,” he said.

  She didn’t dare move as his head slowly lowered and his lips touched hers. It was soft and inquiring, this kiss. There was no pressure, no demand. Just a question in the form of a kiss, but she didn’t know what the question was. He pulled back. She opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, his features still serious, yet softened.

  “Thank you. I will leave you now.”

  Flummoxed, Hazel nodded and he moved away. As silent as a cat, he disappeared down the stairs. She licked her lips. They felt entirely normal, but on the inside, she felt entirely different.

  * * *

  Garrett slipped down the stairs without a sound. He skirted around the lingering crowd of guests and into the dining room. He would have liked to avoid the crowds altogether, but he needed to assure his aunt of his presence. She worried, she would say although it was a ridiculous notion. He was a grown man of two and thirty. He indulged her anyway. Since he was six years old, she was the only family he had left. For as long as he could remember, he was a nervous sort. She fretted over him as though he was a lost little lamb since the loss of his mother and father, her brother. She had been by his side from that moment on.

  He found her talking with another matron as some guests filtered back into the dining room.

  “Aunt, Lady Westwood.” He nodded to each of them.

  “Lord Bainbridge, I can only hope to be attending your wedding in the near future.” Lady Westwood stood and presented her heavily ringed, gloved hand.

  Garrett obliging kissed the perfumed miasma above one giant ruby. “If you would have me, Lady Westwood, it would be my greatest honor.”

  Lady Westwood tittered girlishly. “Don’t tempt me, young rogue. I must depart. It was a pleasure to recant our youth, Mrs. Danford.” Lady Westwood winked at his aunt. “Good day, Lord Bainbridge.”

  “Good day, Lady Westwood.” Garrett bowed low.

  He took Lady Westwood’s empty chair. “How do you fare, Aunt?”

  Mrs. Danford shuddered from an invisible chill. “I’ve had more conversation than a body ought to have in one afternoon. I detest such large gatherings, as you know.”

  “I offered to make excuses for you, as you know,” Garrett returned. He internally groaned. She always insisted on accompanying him and then complained. “Would you like to leave now? I can have the carriage ready in the hour.” He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not when he might have another opportunity to see Lady Hazel.

  “I hate to travel at night. You know this.” She narrowed her eyes at him and then shook herself gently like a bird rustling its feathers. “We will leave at first light as planned.”

  “As you wish.” Garrett moved to stand and to escape her sour mood.

  “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Being social, as you instructed me to do.”

  “I do not care for your tone, Bain,” she scolded.

  Garrett felt the tendons of his jaw tighten. “Bain was my father. I prefer Bainbridge if you please.”

  “I raised you from the time you were a boy. It is my duty to see you rise to the standard your father held. There for I will call you as I please, which also serves your father’s memory.”

  Garrett sighed as he stood fully. He didn’t want to have this argument again. “Would you like me to escort you to your room?”

  “No. I will speak with Mrs. Baker before she departs. Have you no one to converse with at the moment? I didn’t raise you to be a shy child.”

  This time, his jaw locked. There was a pop. He prayed it wasn’t audible. With effort, he unclenched his teeth. “I—” He was about to claim he was no longer a child, but that was absurd and—childish. He decided to abandon the conversation altogether. “I will return to my acquaintances. I will see you at dinner.” He turned away from her and strode from the room.

  The Library was transformed into a card room. He made his way there to brood in silence until his temper faded. He
shouldn’t have the ability to be angry. After sharing a secret kiss with Lady Hazel, his bloody boots should have sprouted wings. Reminiscing that wondrous occurrence would have to wait. For now, he settled his broad shoulders against a bookcase, accepted a tumbler of brandy from a footman, and watched a card game. The lightness he had felt after that kiss had faded, overshadowed by the storm clouds of his aunt’s testy attitude.

  Someday he would make her happy. Perhaps someday soon. He would give her a reason to smile, a reason to finally accept his transition from child to man. He owed her that. He would thank her for facilitating that change with her loving care. But first he would need to introduce her to his future wife.

  * * *

  That night in her room, by the light of a single candle, Hazel sat down and began the first of many letters to her sister. She would tell her all, every burning thought in her head, every dissection of that kiss and hope that perhaps Anabelle would be able to distinguish clarity from the chaos. Hazel was lost. The rest of the day, from the moment Lord Bainbridge had left her stunned near the window, she had bounced between feelings of jubilation and deep internal contemplation. She was either quiet or fighting the urge to smile absurdly at inappropriate times. It was a wonder her mother hadn’t sent her to bed hours ago with a tonic.

  She wouldn’t send the letter immediately, but in time, she would seek her sister’s help. It felt good to write her thoughts down and purge them. She sighed in relief as she sanded the letter and folded it, sealing it with her new stamp, an H inside an ivy leaf.

  The next day was spent saying goodbye to their guests. Hazel had risen early, her nerves tingling at the thought of meeting eyes with Lord Bainbridge over the breakfast table. The thought alone brought a fever to her cheeks, and before she could even leave her room, she had to press a cool, wet cloth to her cheeks multiple times. She was disappointed to learn that he and his aunt had left at first light.

  “Why so dreadfully early?” Lady Sanders said.

  Hazel could have kissed her for asking the very question burning inside her.

  “It is a full day’s carriage ride to their home, and Mrs. Danford insists on making the journey at that time. She detests roadside Inns.” Hazel’s mother supplied the circle of curious matrons sipping tea at their table.

  “Which county do they reside?” Lady Sanders queried.

  “A bit north of us in Oxfordshire. Bainbridge Hall is the principal seat of the family. She won’t travel at night, she claims,” Lady Wellsford finished. The ladies nodded in understanding.

  Hazel caught sight of Lucy and Thea entering the dining room and excused herself to sit with them.

  “Quite the wedding.” Lucy sighed as she set down a plate filled with eggs and bacon.

  “If this were a small affair, I’d hate to see what a large affair would entail.” Thea grimaced.

  “We will when Hazel gets married. Her mother won’t be deterred twice.”

  Hazel nearly spit out her tea. “Beg pardon. What about the atrocity your own wedding is destined to be, the only daughter of the Earl of Heath. Your mother has already begun planning yours.”

  Lucy blinked owlishly. “She has?”

  “Pink tulle shall rule the day, according to her,” Hazel warned.

  Lucy visibly shuddered.

  “You are both very lucky.” Thea sighed.

  Hazel felt a measure of shame. Thea’s family was far from able to put on a grand wedding, nor did they hope she would find a grand match. They were blind to her charms and quiet beauty the way most of the world was and were undeserving of her.

  “We are a pair of ungrateful wretches,” Lucy stated.

  “I will be lucky to even receive a proposal, let alone a grand wedding.” Thea sighed.

  “Nonsense.” Lucy took her hand. “You will find the perfect man who will see all the wonderful things about you that I see.”

  Hazel nodded in agreement. “We will help each other find the right husbands or grow old and eccentric together.”

  Thea smiled. “That might be fun.”

  “Wouldn’t it?” Lucy took a sip of her tea. “Imagine the wild things we could get away with.”

  “You’ve had plenty of practice already,” Hazel teased.

  Lucy shrugged. “I haven’t even begun.”

  Thea and Hazel shared a look of horror.

  “Don’t pretend you aren’t intrigued and a tad jealous.” Lucy snickered.

  “I have no aspirations of wildness.” Thea spread jam on her toast. “All I want is a home and husband of my own.”

  “I agree with Thea though a little wildness after marriage would be exciting, particularly with one’s husband.”

  “Now that’s the ticket.” Lucy gestured excitedly with her teacup. “A husband who enjoys a bit of wildness. That is exactly what I need.”

  Hazel laughed. Thea shook her head in dismay.

  “Imagine the fun to be had.” Lucy continued with a wicked smile.

  Hazel didn’t know what shenanigans Lucy could be imagining, but in her own mind, she pictured a secret kiss by a window. She looked down to hide her thoughts and warm cheeks behind her teacup. With her own husband, there could be many secret kisses, she even dared to give her future husband a face and a name that was all too familiar now.

  “I’m directing this conversation to something more suitable,” Thea said sternly. “What time will we depart today? Not that my family cares where I am.”

  “Excellent, we will leave at two this afternoon and be home just before dinner. You may as well stay for a few days.”

  “Your family must be growing weary of my company.” Thea’s brow furrowed.

  “Nonsense. You keep me out of trouble, or so my parents think. They love having you, as do I. We’d adopt you if we could.”

  Hazel laughed but when she looked at Thea, she felt her throat close. Thea smiled at Lucy but looked away. From Hazel’s vantage point, she could see tears pool in Thea’s eyes. She felt she should say something, but she didn’t want to embarrass her. Lucy couldn’t see from across the table as she sampled her eggs cheerily. After a moment, Thea collected herself and returned to her own breakfast.

  “If you grow tired of Lucy, I would appreciate your company here, too. It will be lonely without Anabelle,” Hazel suggested.

  “You see? If we play our cards right, you won’t ever have to go home,” Lucy added.

  Thea laughed softly. “If only that were true.”

  “We will find you a husband next,” Lucy said confidently.

  The day continued with a relaxed mien, the guests depleting steadily until the sun began to set and their home was once again their own. Hazel sighed as she climbed the stairs to dress for dinner—their first as a family without Anabelle.

  Chapter 1

  One month later…

  Hazel!”

  Hazel lurched up from her back, her eyes gritty and weighted by too little sleep. She blinked. Her eyes wouldn’t focus. The room had a wavy texture to it and far too much light.

  “Hazel! Dear God, it’s half past seven. There is simply no time!”

  Sounds and shapes assaulted Hazel’s senses. She covered her eyes, her brain only just beginning to register her surroundings. She was in her room. Anabelle was ordering someone about, and the scuffles of clothing and drawers banging closed filled in the background.

  “Stop being so loud,” Hazel moaned. The room began to spin.

  “Hazel.”

  Anabelle’s voice was in her ear and cold hands gripped her shoulders. They started to shake her.

  It was more than her throbbing body could take. “Stop. Stop it!” She shoved away her attacker and rolled right off a cliff. The floor abruptly caught her.

  “I can’t believe it. Mother is going to faint when she sees you.” Anabelle came around the bed and tried to pick Hazel up by the shoulders.

  Hazel lay limply, her body doing a battle between complete surrender and revolting stomach spasms. Her head entered the party, rin
ging like the bells of St. Matthew.

  “Anabelle…” Hazel groaned.

  “Mary, the chamber pot if you please,” Anabelle beckoned.

  Hazel managed to pull herself up on her elbows. Anabelle pulled her hair from her face and held the mass of it back in her fist. The chamber pot appeared before her, a dark well of emptiness. It was all the encouragement her stomach needed.

  Wiping her mouth with a cloth, Hazel sat up, and for the first time yet, saw her room clearly. The concerned gazes of Anabelle, and Mary, her ladies maid, stared back at her.

  “It’s your wedding day, and you’re soused as a hog.” Anabelle had no issue putting it bluntly.

  “I don’t believe that is a saying, and the champagne was your idea.”

  “Yes, it’s clearly all my fault. Mary, what do we do?”

  “She’ll need a cold bath to start. A rousing cup of tea and time that we don’t have.”

  “It’s time for a miracle,” Anabelle said.

  Hazel didn’t bother speaking anymore. She had nothing to add to the moment. She passively accepted the whirlwind that entered her room to prepare her for her wedding. She was dunked in a cold bath, her hair braided and twisted into a passable coiffure.

  “We’ll cover it with a veil and lots of flowers,” Anabelle had chimed. Her cheeks were pinched, her buttery cream wedding gown pulled over her head and fastened with lightning speed, and before she knew it, she was dressed. She turned to face the mirror. She had an audience behind her now. Her mother had appeared out of the ether and was smiling as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Anabelle cried too, but Hazel would bet it was from relief.

  It was a quarter past eight. They were late, but not dreadfully so. Hazel winced as her mother clapped joyously, and she was ushered from the room. She felt completely out of control of herself, a leaf carried by a strong wind to a fate unknown. She knew how she got here. She’d made the choice herself with a clear head. But what she didn’t understand was why she felt so odd about it now. It was all Anabelle’s fault. Heathers, too. Heather had introduced them and Anabelle had teased her and Lord Bainbridge. Well, regardless, she would see him shortly at the church. It was his fault, too. He was entirely too handsome, too affable, and too mysterious. There was something to know about him, and she desperately wanted to get to the bottom of it. As his wife.