by Abby Ayles
“I enjoy talking to you, when you are not so quiet,” she replied.
“I see,” he replied with a smile.
“Besides, it was you who waited for me in the hallway. Are you following me?” she asked with a giggle.
“I suppose I very much enjoy your company,” Lord Jones replied. A slight flush took over his face. “You are not unattractive, you are intelligent, you have a refreshing outlook... and, most importantly, you often agree with me, which means I do not need to introspect too much.”
Lucy giggled. “Is too much introspection a bad thing?”
He nodded. “Well, it does make me question my own genius,” he replied with exaggerated affect.
But she did not like that tone. She preferred it when he was blushing and awkward. “I would be surprised if you did not enjoy my company, after last time,” Lucy whispered to him, knowing full well what it would do to him.
The blush began to creep back up and he drew a sharp breath. “Yes, I suppose that may have been a little of a hint as to my... opinion of you,” he replied, avoiding looking her in the eye.
She moved a little bit closer. “I am tired and shall be heading home. Will Your Grace see me to the door?” she whispered.
It was amazing what an effect it had on him when she leaned in and whispered her thoughts ever so gently. He shivered a little, blushed an even deeper shade of red, and just nodded. It was wonderful to see him blushing like that, to see the vulnerability he had beneath his harsh exterior. He presented his arm for her, and she wrapped her little fingers around it, feeling how strong he was under his suit. Possibly as strong as Prince Ferdinand. It was just that Lord Jones did not wear clothes two inches too tight to show himself off. She rubbed his arm subtly. This was much better.
Lucy had half expected him to kiss her again at the door. It seemed as though he was going to. He paused as she asked the servant for her coat and bonnet, then as soon as they were alone again he gazed into her eyes and lowered his face towards hers. But as he leaned in he suddenly stopped and put his head to one side, perplexed.
“What is the matter?” she asked quietly.
“I am not sure I like the smell of brandy on you... nor that perfume,” he replied, pulling back a little. “You ought to choose something a little more feminine, like your usual scent,” he said with a slight smile.
She nodded. But she was wearing her usual scent. Only over the top... the smell of Prince Ferdinand had worn off on her. She smelled of his brandy, his cologne, and that poor girl's perfume. And Andrew could smell it on her.
She felt a burning shame, to know that Lord Jones could possibly tell that she had been used like that. She looked to the floor. “I suppose I shall wear my usual one tomorrow,” she replied, hoping he had not noticed.
He nodded. “That would be wise. I like how you usually smell.”
Before she could say anything else, the moment was gone. The servant was back with her coat and bonnet, and it was time for her to head home. Her lips were still burning with desire for Andrew, but they would have to wait. She smiled softly and nodded. “Please see me to the door.”
He nodded back. “Of course, Lucy.”
He followed her to the door. She subtly caressed his hand as she was about to leave. She turned around and their eyes met. He was perfect. She sighed. She needed him. She stepped a little closer, looking at his lips, wondering if the servant would say anything should she kiss Lord Jones then and there.
He coughed a little to himself. “Well, we shall meet again soon,” he said nervously.
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, we shall.” He was right. They could get caught...
But as she descended the stairs, another thought crossed her mind. Had he rejected her? Turning around, she saw he was no longer waiting in the doorway. Only the servant stood there. Had Lord Andrew Jones smelled another man on her, and turned her away?
She was heartbroken and ashamed to have been caught with Prince Ferdinand's scent on her. But why? It was no crime to be showing interest in other men. She was not married to Lord Jones.
Then it struck her. That was precisely it. She wanted to marry Lord Jones.
What on earth had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 17
Lucy could not get Lord Jones off her mind at all anymore. At least before she was able to lie to herself, to tell herself she was not really interested. But now she had tasted his lips, all she wanted was to taste them again and again. It was pure torture, being kept away from him.
She pushed her breakfast around on her plate. She knew her mother would be furrowing her brow in worry at seeing her not eating. But she had no appetite. All she felt like doing was sitting in her room, daydreaming about marrying Lord Jones. He would look so dashing standing at the top of that aisle, light streaming in through stained glass windows, a white rose tucked into the breast of his jacket...
But she had committed to never marrying... and it was him she had made the promise to, no less! She sighed. She had been incredibly foolish after all.
“Are you well?” her mother asked softly.
Lucy shook her head and sighed. “I fear I may never marry,” she confessed.
“Oh, I knew you truly did care,” her mother said, sounding relieved. “And it worries me too. But I am sure that fate has great plans for you. So do not be afraid.”
Lucy sighed again.
“I am sure there is a perfect man out there for you, and we will meet him, and you will marry him. You shall see,” her mother continued.
Lucy carried on pushing her food around the plate in circles. But she had already met the perfect man...
She had not given up yet, of course. However down she was feeling, she knew she had to keep trying her luck. She was determined to see him again. Perhaps he would be willing to change his mind about the pact if she were to prove her worth to him. But she was tired and frustrated and ashamed. She should have known this would happen.
Antoinette had told her in a letter that morning that there would be a ball late in the afternoon. She was invited, and so was Lord Jones. It would be very casual and relaxed compared to the dinner parties she had recently had with the Prince and Princess, and the focus would be much more on dancing and mingling. So there would be plenty of opportunities to meet with Lord Jones without drawing attention to herself.
The ball would be held at five o'clock. Which meant she had until then to while away. But she did not want to wait. She wanted the time to arrive immediately. She wanted to look her best and act her best to prove to him what a wonderful young woman she was. Not to mention, to makeup for what she had done with Prince Ferdinand...
Trying on her dress for the ball, Lucy looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she looked quite pleasing to the eye. No wonder Prince Ferdinand and Lord Jones could not keep to themselves. She had to remind herself again that she no longer looked girlish and cute. She was an adult woman, with the same sensual curves and plump lips which made her mother so desirable. Not to mention her own cravings for physical intimacy, which were no doubt causing her to move and talk more suggestively than she ought to.
She was sensual. She was sweet. She was stylish. She was stunning, and she knew it. She smirked at her own reflection. Her mother was right. She would marry the perfect man—at any cost.
Arriving at the ball, her confidence did not falter even as she walked into the bright lights and saw so many other young women, also looking resplendent. Because she was herself. She was beautiful in her own way. And Lord Jones had already said that he appreciated her more than he did others. He had said she was refreshing, unique. He liked her.
She spied him dancing with a young lady. For someone uninterested in marriage, he sure was happy to spend time with women. But he had already confessed that he would do anything for fun, and she believed him. After all, he had no reason to impress anyone, did he? He could just do whatever he pleased, live in the moment, and enjoy himself.
She watched closely, feeling
a pang of jealousy as his hand rested on the woman's hip and he smiled down at her. But she reassured herself that his smile was not approving, or loving. It was friendly and warm, but nothing else.
As the dance drew to a close, she made sure to make eye contact with him. He smiled at her, bowed to his partner, and walked to where Lucy was waiting.
“I was wondering where you were,” he said with a grin. He looked so good. His suit was again impeccable, and perfectly tailored to his frame. The green in it accentuated his eyes. She spied a stray cat hair on his sleeve, but that somehow just added to it. A man who loved animals was a good man.
“I am not so late,” Lucy replied, trying to avoid blushing.
“Ah, but ordinarily you would be here long before me. It is odd to not see you here as soon as I arrive.” He made eye contact with her and she felt her heart thump hard in her chest. “You have missed two dances already. I had to make do.”
“I would love to dance,” she replied, her heart fluttering hard in her chest.
He extended his hand to her. “Then let us not waste another minute,” he replied.
She slipped her fingers into the palm of his hand. His hands were so much bigger, so much stronger than hers. It felt as though her hand was surrounded by a protective fortress. She followed as he guided her out, just in time for the first keystroke of the piano.
She remembered him saying she was a terrible dancer. And nevertheless, he had wanted to dance with her. He had missed her. Her heart beat harder and harder in her chest. She would be able to be with him. It was destined to be.
Andrew was anything but a terrible dancer. He stepped so gracefully, so wonderfully. Like a dressage horse, or a swan gliding over water. It was magical. She moved in a little closer, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him. All she wanted was to feel like this forever. And it could not happen. Not unless she could persuade him that marriage was a good idea. She sighed. It would be impossible to do that. He was so committed to avoiding marriage. But she had to at least try.
The dance drew to a close. She had wanted to dance the next one with him, to just stay like that. But she understood how frustrating it must be to such an excellent dancer every time she missed a step, or moved too fast or too slowly. He needed a break. So he wandered towards the champagne table.
Lucy followed Lord Jones to the side of the room. She immediately noticed that they were right beside the door to the hallway. That would be perfect. Just like with Prince Ferdinand. Just like the last time she was left alone with Lord Jones. He would be emboldened by their privacy. He would lock lips with her, embrace her. And then, in that heated moment, she could point out his hypocrisy to him, prove to him that she was worthy of marriage. He would be forced to acknowledge her worthiness and then she would all but have him.
She made eye contact with him as she took her champagne flute, then nodded towards the door. He smiled, blushing slightly, and nodded in agreement, following her as she tried to inconspicuously make her way out of the door.
Out in the hallway, she felt her stomach knotted with excitement. This would be like with Prince Ferdinand. Only better. Because it was with Lord Jones. For a moment they stood there, like two children playing truant, unsure what it was they were going to do, but too stubborn to just go back indoors. Then, Lord Jones leaned in and kissed her softly.
It was the lightest, most fleeting kiss. His lips barely grazed hers. And yet she felt as though she would melt into a puddle. As their lips separated he just stood there, gazing down into her eyes, his own eyes full of love and tenderness. She smiled and pushed up onto her toes, locking lips with him again.
Perhaps she would get by without marriage after all. So long as she could have him, what did it matter if they got married or not? If he would agree to marry her, then all the better, of course. But if not, she was not prepared to marry anyone else, to belong to anyone else. It was wrong, but she would be willing to live in sin for this man.
She put her free hand behind his head, to hold him in the kiss, relishing the taste of champagne on his lips and the soft scent of his cologne, brought out by the exertion of dancing. He was delicious. And she would have him, whatever the cost.
He pulled away from her slightly. She wanted to lean right back in, but she remembered how it had felt when Prince Ferdinand had done that to her. She stepped back a little bit. “Are you alright?” she asked sweetly.
He nodded. “I suppose so...”
“Do you not want me to kiss you?” she asked.
“I am not sure of what I want,” Lord Jones replied. “I find you very attractive, but I am worried that you would attempt to coerce me into marriage.”
“I see. Even me?” she asked. She suddenly felt deeply guilty. She had wanted to coerce him into marriage. She had wanted to deceive him and manipulate him and persuade him it was a good idea. And she might have been caught out. “I have already committed to never marrying, you know this,” she insisted.
“I know, I know...” he replied. “But you are still a woman. And I cannot shake the feeling that, as a woman, you still desire to trap a man in wedlock.”
“Do you not think I would tell you if that was what I intended to do?” she asked.
He sighed and shook his head. “Women have lied to me about their intentions very much before,” he said. “I cannot be sure you would not do the same. If anything, from my past experiences you are probably lying right now.”
“I would never do such a thing!” Lucy exclaimed. She could feel the heat rising to her face. She had been caught out. Or had she? After all, she was willing to live in sin if he had rejected her. She would not have pushed him further than he would have wanted to go. Why was she feeling so defensive?
Because he had worked it out before she had told him. He had caught her and her intellect had been insulted. Lucy was not sure what made her more indignant, what he was accusing her of, that he had worked it out, or the fact that she had considered him worth the sin he was tempting her into.
Until then he had been so subtle with her, so careful and gentle with her. He had treated her like she was different, like she was special, like she meant something to him. Now he was just treating her like she was the same as any other woman, if not worse.
“If you are so committed to never marrying,” Lord Jones said. “Then explain to me what you were doing trying to seduce a Prince?”
“Prince Ferdinand is...” she said, looking at her feet as she trailed off. “My mother wants me to win him over. To court him.”
“And you told her you did not want to?” Lord Jones asked, fully knowing the answer.
Lucy sighed. “I have already told you. It is not so easy for a young woman as it is for a man. I have to play along, to grin and bear it.”
“You did not look as though you were simply enduring his company,” Lord Jones said quietly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “You looked as though you were positively savouring it.”
Lucy felt the heat rising to her face again, in both anger and shame. So he had seen! And yet he had kept quiet, held it back until the right moment to cruelly spring it on her.
“I—I suppose that...” She sighed. “It is complicated. He is not an undesirable man. I did not intend for him to go so far, but, I suppose I trusted him too much. Which is not a mistake I will make again.”
Lord Jones nodded. “No, I understand. And I do not blame you. It is not your fault, what happened then.”
“So you understand me?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“And you trust me?” she added carefully.
He nodded without hesitating. “So far as I can trust anyone. I just wish it were all much simpler.”
Lucy sighed heavily. “I do too.”
All she wanted was to kiss and hold him. But that was not really an option, was it? He was scared of her, and she was still living with the feeling she was somehow soiled. She did not want to kiss him when he was pulling away from her, scared. It was ju
st like when Prince Ferdinand had continued to force himself towards her. It was not right, or fair. And she did not want to act like that, to pass on that pain and suffering to Lord Jones, who she loved and respected.
Quietly, they rejoined the ball. There was nothing more to do. And she was not ready to dance with him again, nor he with her. So they parted ways, as she mulled over what had just happened.
She danced a little with a few different young men, much to her mother's delight. But her mind was on Lord Jones the whole time. Why had she not been able to tell him her true intentions? Why had she allowed herself to become defensive, to deny her own desire to marry him? She was so scared of his rejection, but how could he embrace her if she did not risk being rejected? It would be far worse to live a life of never knowing than to be turned down the once.
Lucy wanted him. And she would tell him. The worst he could do was reject her. The worse he could do was say 'no'. And then they would be in no worse position than they already were. She nodded to herself, determined. This was what she needed to do.
She walked up and down the room, looking everywhere for Lord Jones. But he was nowhere to be found. He was not dancing, or drinking, or... anywhere. Lucy feared he may have already headed home. She needed to find out. If he was still there, she would seek him until she found him. And if he was home, she would visit him first thing in the morning.
She walked out into the hallway and began marching towards where the footman stood, watching the door, ensuring that guests had all their belongings with them when they left. He would know if Lord Jones had departed already.
But then she heard a muffled sound down a narrow hallway to the right. There was but a single candle illuminating it, and it looked bare, as though it were only ordinarily used by the servants. And yet there were two very well dressed young people down there, vaguely illuminated by the flickering flame. Lucy almost walked off in disgust, but then she realized who it was.
