The Viscount's Veiled Lady

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘I hope none of the piglets were injured.’ She felt a sudden need to keep talking.

  ‘Mmm?’ He sounded distracted. ‘Oh, no. The only injuries were to my pride and Lance’s suit. I was actually managing quite well until one of the sows got into the house. Apparently she wanted to take up residence in the parlour.’

  ‘Oh, dear. What’s her name?’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘The sow’s?’

  He looked amused. ‘I’ve called her a variety of names today, though none of them would bear repeating in public. Nuisance is probably the politest word.’

  ‘Well, you can’t call her that. She needs a name.’

  ‘I believe I mentioned that she’s a pig?’

  ‘Even pigs deserve names. Maybe she wouldn’t want to escape if you were nicer to her.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘What was the name of the heroine in the last book you read?’

  ‘I have no idea. I don’t get much time for reading any more.’

  ‘The last play you saw?’

  ‘Same answer.’

  ‘I suppose poetry’s out of the question then?’

  ‘I know a few sailor’s shanties, but I probably shouldn’t repeat them to a lady either. Mostly about a girl called...’ his lips twitched ‘...never mind. You’ll have to answer the question for me. What was the last book you read?’

  ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. I bought it as a bedtime story for Georgie, but then ended up reading it myself.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘Well, there’s a girl called Alice who follows a white rabbit down a hole and ends up in a strange hall filled with lots of different-sized doors. Then there’s a magical potion and some cake and she grows and then shrinks and there’s a dodo and a talking caterpillar and the Queen of Hearts who wants to chop everyone’s head off...’ She saw his expression and stopped. ‘It’s hard to explain, but Alice is a pretty name. Or Dinah. That’s her cat.’

  ‘Dinah.’ He nodded decisively. ‘My grandmother’s name was Alice. I can’t in all conscience name a pig after her.’

  ‘Why not? Pigs are lovely. I’d be flattered to have one named after me.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have said so if you’d seen them earlier, but I can’t allow that either. It would be too confusing if the two of you ever met.’

  ‘Are we likely to?’ The question was out before she could think better of it.

  ‘You’re welcome to visit whenever you like.’ His hold on her arm tightened perceptibly. ‘Only you might want to give me some warning so I’ll know to put some clothes on.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks flood with colour at the memory of their first meeting. ‘Yes.’

  ‘In any case, I won’t name a pig after you. She’ll just have to be named after some ridiculous story about dodos.’

  ‘It’s not ridiculous!’ Frances felt indignant suddenly. ‘It made perfect sense to me. It’s about dreaming and imagination and not being confined by everyday rules. It’s about growing up and how hard it is.’ She sighed. ‘Imagination is a wonderful thing, don’t you think? It’s an escape.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ He gave her a sideways look. ‘Is that what your art is, an escape?’

  ‘Maybe in part, but it’s also what I love. It’s a part of me. And maybe...’ she chewed her lip for a few seconds, thinking ‘... I suppose in some ways it kept me sane after I was injured. It was a link to the past, to the person I was before my accident. Everyone looked at me differently afterwards and for a while I wondered if I really was different. I thought that everyone saw me the way Leo did so I hid myself away. I wore my veil so that I wouldn’t have to face anyone and because I thought my parents were embarrassed by me. Art was my one constant, the way I kept hold of my self. Only now it turns out that I made assumptions I shouldn’t have. My parents weren’t embarrassed by or ashamed of me so maybe I was wrong about the way other people saw me, too. Maybe I rejected everyone else, not the other way round.’ She smiled. ‘Which is a roundabout way of saying that I’m glad I came today. You were right about it being time to face the world again.’

  ‘Then I’m glad, too.’ He stopped walking to look at her. ‘And for what it’s worth, in my humble opinion, you haven’t changed all that much. There was always something special about you as a girl. Now there is even more.’

  ‘You think so?’ She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from him.

  ‘I do.’ The hard lines of his face looked softer than she’d ever seen them. Even his eyes looked softer, though there was warmth in them, too, a flickering heat that made her own temperature suddenly soar. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Frances, but you make me feel calmer somehow. Remember what I told you about my father?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded, though at that moment she could hardly have felt any less calm. Her heart was hammering so painfully that she was half-afraid it might beat its way through her chest. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could actually feel the shockwaves through her arm.

  ‘Sometimes I feel as if he’s still here, berating me. I know all the things he would have said, all the ways in which I would have disappointed him, but when I’m with you, all of that goes away. You soothe my spirits, Frances.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt vaguely crestfallen. It didn’t sound very exciting. On the contrary, it made her sound like some kind of sleeping draught.

  ‘Judging by your expression, however, I’m even worse at giving compliments than I thought. Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ She lifted her chin a little higher. ‘It’s just... I’m not a medicine.’

  ‘Med...’ His brows snapped together again. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not much of a compliment, saying that I send you to sleep.’

  ‘Damn it, woman, I never said that! I might be bad at giving compliments, but you’re even worse at taking them. I meant that I enjoy your company.’ He frowned and then continued more slowly as if he were working out his thoughts as he spoke. ‘You make me feel like my old self again, too. Not the one you met in your parents’ parlour, but the one before that, from when my mother was alive. You make me feel young and happy again. So what I’m trying to say is that I like you. Very much, in fact. Is that better?’

  Frances nodded mutely. Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, put like that it sounded much better. Only she couldn’t seem to answer. She couldn’t seem to form any words at all. His chest was rising and falling faster than usual as well. Too fast for talking, as if he were as much affected by her as she was by him, as if he’d meant everything that he’d said. And he’d said that he liked her very much...

  He lifted his hands slowly, sliding one under the rim of her bonnet to cradle her face and the other around her neck, tilting her head back so that he could look deep into her eyes. She opened her lips, trying to catch her breath since the whole process of breathing seemed to have become increasingly difficult, but his hands were already moving again, distracting her. Both hands were beneath her bonnet this time, his fingers rough but warm, trailing lightly over her cheeks while his thumbs brushed the swell of her lower lip. At last they met in the centre and he leaned forward, his face coming slowly but steadily towards her as she closed her eyes and felt the pressure of his lips against hers...

  Oh.

  She didn’t respond at once, caught off guard by the sudden rush of exhilaration. Oh... For a few moments, it was the only word she could think of, since coherent thought seemed beyond her. Oh... She didn’t know what else to think since the potent combination of his words and touch seemed to have stunned her as effectively as if she’d been hit over the head. She could only feel and what she felt was beyond description, as though her heartbeat was speeding up and slowing down at the same time. Neither did she know how to react since she had so little experience to draw on. Leo was the only other man she’d ever kissed and he’d never seemed to require any ki
nd of response from her. Quite the opposite—on those few occasions, she’d had the vague impression that he’d been trying to crush her.

  Arthur’s kiss, on the other hand, was completely different, gentle and tender and searching, as if he didn’t want to frighten her. Only some instinct told her to move her lips, too, and so she did, pushing her mouth back against his and revelling in the feeling of warmth that seemed to rush all the way down through her body to her toes, as if her very insides were turning to hot liquid.

  She heard herself moan out loud with pleasure, her body responding ahead of her mind. Arthur’s kiss was everything she’d imagined a kiss ought to be, back in the days when she’d imagined being kissed, that was. If she hadn’t been quite so concerned that she was doing it wrong, she might even have called it perfect.

  Slowly, he pulled his hands from her face and transferred them to her sides, sliding them down to her waist as she lifted her arms and draped them around his shoulders. She was squeezing, she realised after a few moments, possibly enough to hurt, though he didn’t seem to object. He was still kissing her, after all, and his own hold on her waist was far from relaxed. In fact, it seemed to be tightening, too, drawing her ever closer towards him, if such a thing were possible when they were already so close that she could feel the full length of his chest pressed, solid and strong, against hers.

  She moaned again, giving herself up to the feeling that his touch aroused in her, a new feeling she’d never experienced before, but that she recognised instinctively. Desire. A surging, rushing torrent of it that seemed to strip away all her inhibitions and consume her whole body. She hardly cared any more whether she was doing it right or wrong. She only did what her instincts told her, what she wanted to do. Which was to press even closer, to leave not the tiniest sliver of air between their two bodies, to feel the pounding of their heartbeats and try to quell the ache that seemed to be building and pulsating between her thighs. It was strange how the more she kissed him, the more intense the ache became, as if kissing him would never be enough, as if they were building towards something else... If only she could press harder and—

  ‘Uncle Arthur?’ a small female voice interrupted them. ‘Aunt Violet’s looking for you.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Arthur pulled his head back, counting to ten while he arranged his features into an expression suitable for an almost-five-year-old. As attempts went, he thought he ought to deserve some kind of medal. A distinguished one to boot. When he finally managed to speak, his voice sounded almost civil, despite the fact that Frances had leapt so far out of his arms that she was standing on the other side of the grove, looking like a startled deer.

  ‘Harriet.’ Somehow he managed a smile. ‘You can tell Aunt Violet we’ll be along in a moment.’

  ‘All right.’ The little girl looked between them with unabashed curiosity. ‘Shall I tell her you were kissing?’

  ‘No!’ They both uttered the exclamation together.

  ‘But they won’t mind.’ Harriet blinked innocently. ‘Mama and Papa kiss all the time.’

  ‘I’m sure they do.’ Arthur threw an amused glance towards Frances, though she looked anything but amused. On the contrary, her skin was a particularly vibrant shade of scarlet. Clearly the moment between them had passed.

  ‘Frances...’ He decided to make some introductions before the child could tell them any more about her parents’ domestic habits. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Harriet Felstone.’

  ‘Felstone?’ She looked confused. ‘But she called you uncle?’

  ‘It’s an honorific title. Harriet likes to think of us all as one big, happy family.’

  ‘I see.’ The red in her cheeks faded somewhat. ‘Then I’m very happy to meet you, Harriet.’

  ‘Very pleased to make your acquaintance.’ The little girl had clearly been paying attention to adult conversations, too. ‘What’s that on your face?’

  ‘Harriet!’ Arthur started to remonstrate, but Frances waved a hand.

  ‘It’s a scar.’ She crouched down to give the girl a better look. ‘I had a nasty accident and it left me with this mark.’

  ‘It looks sore.’ Harriet leaned forward to get a closer look. ‘Shall I give it a kiss? That’s what Mama does when I hurt myself. She gives me a special kiss to make it all better. I can give you one, too, if you like?’

  ‘Would you? That sounds lovely.’

  Harriet nodded seriously and then puckered her lips, pressing them gently against Frances’s cheek. ‘There. Is that better?’

  ‘Do you know, I really think it is.’ Frances looked delighted. ‘That was a special kiss, thank you.’

  ‘Maybe Uncle Arthur should give you one, too.’

  ‘Maybe he will. Later.’ He strode forward as a fresh wave of colour washed over Frances’s cheeks. ‘Only let’s find Aunt Violet first, shall we?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘She’s quite a character.’ Frances was still blushing as Harriet scampered off ahead of them.

  ‘Four years going on fourteen, but she’s a sweet girl, when she minds her own business, that is.’

  He gave her a sidelong look. She didn’t take his arm this time, which was probably a good thing since he was feeling somewhat hot under the collar himself, his body in only marginally less turmoil than his mind, which was still reeling from the shock of so many mixed emotions, coming one after the other. Anxiety about being late, irritation at not being able to find her, relief when he finally had and then a rush of pure, unadulterated desire. He’d behaved somewhat recklessly in kissing her, but then she was looking particularly fetching. Most of the time her clothes seemed designed to cover as much of her body as possible, but today he could see her arms as well as the long column of her throat, ornamented by a single thin ribbon and...he peered closer...a single black-shell pendant, nestling in the dip between the twin curves of her breasts... If only he’d kissed her there when he’d had the chance!

  He cleared his throat instead, though his voice still came out husky. ‘You didn’t mind what she said about your scar?’

  ‘No. She didn’t mean anything by it and her kiss was very sweet.’

  ‘Just hers?’

  ‘Not just hers, no.’ She looked shy all of a sudden. ‘Only I wouldn’t call yours sweet exactly.’

  ‘Salty?’

  ‘No...’ her lips curved upwards ‘...but something stronger than sweet.’

  ‘Not unpleasant, then?’

  ‘Not that either, although it did take me by surprise.’

  ‘Really?’ He lowered his head so that his mouth skimmed the side of her ear. ‘Because I’ve been wanting to do it for a month at least.’

  ‘You have?’ She peeked up at him, looking so incredibly kissable that it was all he could do not to haul her up against a tree and prove it to her. If it hadn’t been for their small companion just a few feet ahead, then he would have.

  ‘I thought when you invited me here it was to support each other...’ she paused significantly ‘...as friends.’

  ‘I thought so, too. Only as it turns out, I’ve been deceiving myself. Much as I appreciate your friendship, I believe I like kissing you even more. I’d like to do it again. Soon. Harriet Felstone has a lot to answer for.’

  She dropped her gaze again, which was just as well since the looks directed at them as they emerged out of the woodland were more than a little speculative. He really ought to have taken more care with her reputation, he supposed, though fortunately at this end of the garden, the only witnesses were Lance and Violet.

  ‘I found them!’ Harriet announced their arrival proudly. ‘They were...’

  ‘In the orchard.’ Arthur spoke over her quickly, relieved when Violet came forward to greet them, albeit smiling a little too brightly.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. We thought we’d lost you. Frances, I have a dear friend I’d like you
to meet, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Oh...’ She tensed visibly and he didn’t move, ready to support her whatever the answer. She looked as if she were already considering a flight back to the woods, but then she seemed to rally. ‘Of course. I’d be delighted.’

  * * *

  ‘So...’ Lance’s expression was positively gleeful as the two women moved away. ‘Still just friends? I noticed you went rushing off to find her the moment you arrived. And what on earth are you wearing? What happened to the suit I lent you?’

  ‘Trust me, little Brother...’ Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, steering him in the direction of a refreshment table ‘...you don’t want to know.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Lance looked both surprised and pleased by the endearment. Despite being twins, as boys they’d always referred to each other as big brother and little brother, though Arthur hadn’t done so for years.

  ‘What’s this, champagne?’ He reached for a glass and took a deep draught.

  ‘Yes.’ Lance looked as if he hardly recognised him. ‘By the way, the pair of you were looking very sheepish when you emerged from the trees just now. It’s a good thing nobody saw you but Violet and I. You’ll have her father coming after you if you’re not careful.’

  ‘I don’t care if he does.’

  ‘Really? Does this mean that you’re finally seeing sense?’

  ‘It means that it’s my business—and hers.’ Arthur took another mouthful as he looked out over the lawn. It was a bigger gathering than he’d attended for years, bigger than he’d expected. ‘How many people did you invite?’