by Darcy Burke
Lucy and Lady Belgrave exchanged a look. “Of course,” Lucy said, standing.
Lord and Lady Belgrave walked them to the door where Giles’ carriage was already waiting for them. With a quick goodbye and an expression of gratitude for the meal, Lucy hurried to Giles’ carriage. It was silly, she knew, for it was too dark outside for anyone to see and if someone did, they’d never recognize her. Still, deep inside, she felt like a fraud for attending such a dinner with Giles and his friends tonight. Pushing away the thought, she made herself comfortable inside the carriage.
Seth climbed in next and automatically found a seat across from her. Then Giles climbed up and sat next to her, his body touching hers from her shoulder to her knee.
The carriage lurched forward and Giles struck a match. He lit the sconce then blew out the match, a companionable silence engulfing them all.
In the low light, she saw a flash of silver in Seth’s hand. She strained to see. “Seth, is that a flask?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And why do you have it?”
“It’s for drinking.”
“Yes, I know that.” She fought to keep her voice even. “But why do you have one?”
“To drink from.”
Lucy ground her teeth, irritation swelling in her chest. Letting him shave his nonexistent beard was one thing, allowing him to drink whiskey was quite another. “Did you drink from that?”
“The whole thing,” he said proudly.
On the verge of hysteria, she looked at Giles. “You let him drink that whole thing.”
He nodded slowly then leaned close to her. “Don’t tell him, but I filled it with lemonade.”
His words took all the anger right from her being, the air from her lungs, and the resistance of him from her marrow and with nothing holding her back she did the one thing she’d never thought she’d do: she kissed him.
TWENTY-FOUR
Giles went rigid. In every way possible. Lucy was kissing him. It wasn’t one of those long, lippy kisses he’d witnessed while walking down a back alley in Paris. In fact, it wasn’t even on his lips, but rather on his cheek. His cheek that now burned as if she’d touched it with a branding iron.
Her hand found his and she gave him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”
He didn’t know what she was thanking him for, but whatever it was, he’d have to do it again if it made her react this way.
The carriage bounced, jarring him from his trance. “Can I come inside?”
Lucy’s hand stiffened briefly in his, then relaxed. “You wish to talk to me?”
“Yes, please.” He squeezed her hand, a memory of the night he’d walked in on her being attacked flashed in his mind. “Only to talk. Don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
He held her hand until they reached the library then tried to help her down. He’d had no problem helping her in and out of the carriage before, but this time it was different. In his study, Sebastian had encouraged Giles to tell Lucy exactly how he felt about her. He’d even claimed that he suspected she might feel the same. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have spent the day with him or agreed to go to his friends’ for dinner—even if she’d tried to leave as soon as they arrived. Her kissing him could only be further proof. Now, he just needed to find some way to put his feelings for her into the right words.
Lucy handed Seth the keys and he ran inside, clutching tightly to the trinket Sebastian had allowed him to keep. Giles opened the door for Lucy and followed her inside.
“Thank you for today,” she said, lighting the candles in the candelabra.
“You’re welcome.” He raked his hand through his hair and took a deep, calming breath. Words swirled in his head. “What about tonight?” He cringed. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say to her.
“You mean having dinner with your friends?” She slid the shawl off her shoulders and started to fold it. “It was enjoyable, too.”
“Enjoyable.”
Her throat worked. “They were very kind to me.”
Something was off. But what could it be? He racked his brain. She’d been uncomfortable when they’d first arrived, but she’d seemed fine at dinner. In the carriage she’d seemed fine, too. More than fine, even. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been so intimate with him. Had something happened when he’d been away from her? Isabelle had been nothing but kind to him. He couldn’t fathom her being cold to Lucy. “Was Isabelle?”
She made the last fold on the shawl, then removed the brooch and handed them both back to him. “Of course she was. We had a lovely discussion. It’s easy to see why Simon was so upset about losing her.”
Her words were the equivalent of a fist to the gut. Had she been thinking of Simon the entire time they’d been there? Paralyzing embarrassment overcame him, rooting him to the floor. Around him, the room spun. Lucy said something, but he couldn’t make it out. He was a fool. Fire burned in his gut ten times stronger than it had when he was mocked as a boy. He had to leave. Go home. Hide. If only his bloody legs hadn’t turned to lead. He commanded his leg to move and it did. And then his knee buckled and he dropped to the floor.
Or would have if not for Lucy’s arms wrapping around his midsection, holding him up.
“Easy,” she whispered, easing him onto a nearby stool.
He could feel her soft chest pushing against his and almost groaned in aggravation. It wasn’t fair to have such a strong attraction to her. “Thank you,” he grunted, pulling back from her.
“Are you all right? Do you need some water?”
“I’m fine.” He stood and was greeted by her palm meeting his chest. “I need to go home,” he mumbled, encircling her wrist with his fingers and trying to push her arm away as gently as he could.
She didn’t budge. “No.”
“No?”
“No. You said you wanted to talk to me. Surely it wasn’t to ask me what I talked to Lady Belgrave about.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does.” She lowered her hand from his chest and sighed. “Even if it’s not that significant, I think you need to tell me what I said just a moment ago to upset you and make you wish to leave so quickly.”
“I’m not upset.”
She quirked a brow at him. “You have the same expression on your face as you did before you left my cottage in Shrewsbury without breakfast.”
He bridled. She must think him a petulant child. “I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? Whatever for?”
She wouldn’t understand and there was no way he could explain it to her without making it worse. “I need to—”
She pressed her lips to his. “Kiss me,” she murmured against his mouth.
Yes, he needed to kiss her.
And he did.
At first, he merely brushed his lips over hers. Then again. Risking her reaction and his heart, he cupped her face and moved his lips over the top of hers, parting his and surrounding hers. Her lips were soft against his. Smaller and gentle. He liked the feel of her lips against his. Perhaps a little too much. He pulled back, flushing.
If she noticed his erection, she didn’t let on.
“Was there something you wanted to say?”
“I don’t think Simon will like it that I kissed you.”
“No,” she agreed. “He probably won’t, but I don’t plan to tell him.”
Giles stood from where he sat on the stool and took an unsure step back. “I shouldn’t have.”
“I kissed you first,” she reminded him.
“I know, but if you’re to marry Simon—”
Her brow puckered. “Who said I was going to marry Simon?”
“Seth. That’s why he comes to my house. So you and Simon can go to the park or ride horses or go on picnics and such together.”
“I haven’t done any of that with Simon. I went with him once to a museum, that was it.”
“It was?”
She nodded. “When he came to see me after the fi
rst time, I declined his offer to take me to the park and told him that we didn’t suit.”
“You did? You don’t?” He had no idea which of those questions he wanted answered more, but was pleasantly surprised when Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his head down toward her as she came up on her toes.
“I did,” she murmured, brushing her lips over his. “And no, we don’t,” she murmured again, kissing him once again.
Elation that she wasn’t in love with his brother as he’d feared shot through him and he placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her back. Full and thorough this time. Taking time to explore her lips with his.
“I like kissing you,” he blurted when their kiss ended.
She ran the back of her finger across his cheek. “I like kissing you, too.”
His heart slammed against his ribs. “You do?”
“I do.”
“I’d like to do more than kiss,” he admitted. He was certain she’d said something akin to, “I can tell,” in response, but didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking. “Now, isn’t the time though.” It took almost all of the strength he possessed to say that, then the last ounce to step back and separate them.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed, biting her lip. “Giles, I can’t…” She cleared her throat. “I can’t be your mistress.”
“I never asked you to,” he choked out.
“I know you didn’t. But I just wanted to let you know. I can’t. I—I made a mistake in the past and it’s affected my entire life.” She closed her eyes. “And Seth’s.”
His hand found hers and he gave her a gentle tug in the direction of the settee his mother had set out for the comfort of her patrons. He waited for her to sit down, then he joined her. “What happened?” he asked, interlacing their fingers.
“Not a lot. He talked of marriage and even promised he’d formally ask my father. I believed him and allowed him liberties, but he never asked.”
“What did he say about Seth?”
“That I needed to find a new post. He had no wish to glimpse the bastard.” The hitch in her voice tore at his heart.
He brushed a kiss above her brow. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was the one foolish enough to trust him when I knew I shouldn’t. Unfortunately, I was the only one to suffer the consequences.”
“He never relented?”
“No. His brother did though. Before I’d gotten in so far with Seth’s father, his younger brother had asked if I’d marry him since he was soon to be a vicar and thought a wife would be useful, and well, because he’d always loved me. And yes, those were his exact words. Anyway, I’d refused in favor of his brother who I was led to believe loved me in a different way. The real way, the right way, not just as a friend the way I believe Paul loved me.
“After I realized I’d been fooled and understood the extent of the damage I’d done to myself I panicked and in a moment of desperation, I begged Paul to take me back.” She released his hand and buried her face in her palms. A moment later she dropped her hands to her lap and continued. “He refused—which was for the best, but for several years he showed me a greater kindness than I deserved by sending me funds and gifts for Seth.”
“Did he have expectations?”
She released a laugh that held no humor. “No.”
“Then why did he stop?”
“I asked him to. Remember the other day when I mentioned the lady who taught Seth to read with propriety books? She was his wife. Between Seth’s growing tendre for her, the rumors that circulated around the town that suggested her husband was Seth’s father, and Seth’s own curiosity, I realized I couldn’t stay there and I certainly couldn’t allow Paul to keep helping me. That’s how I ended up in Shrewsbury.” She let out a deep exhalation. “I’m sorry, that was far more than you asked about.”
“I’m glad you told me.” And he was.
“Giles?”
He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. “Yes?”
“It’s been a while since we arrived. You should probably go.”
Giles pulled out his pocket watch. They’d been talking—and kissing—for more than an hour. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“About?”
He flushed. “Kissing me.”
Without warning, she leaned in and kissed him yet again. “What do you think?”
That I love you. He swallowed. Hard. “Yes,” he rasped.
“You’re right,” she said, kissing him again. “But you need to go.”
“Right.” He gained his feet and helped her up. “I meant what I said earlier, too.”
“That you like to kiss me?”
“That, too.” He clasped her hands in his. “That you trusted me enough to tell me your past.” He brought their hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I will not ask you for such liberties before marriage.”
“I know.”
TWENTY-FIVE
It had been three days since Lucy had spent the day with Giles and she secretly hoped he’d invite her to do the same again tomorrow, her next day off. Both Friday and Saturday, she’d allowed Seth to leave at one o’clock and spend the afternoon with Giles as long as Giles didn’t have anything else he needed to accomplish.
Both days, she’d taken it upon herself to go collect her son when she finished with work and both days, Giles had invited her in and stolen a kiss from her in the entryway of his townhouse.
She loved those moments with him, even if the whole encounter only lasted a few moments. It was five moments of bliss she’d gotten to enjoy in two days and with any luck she’d have a similar moment of bliss in a mere—she glanced at the clock—eight hours. She sighed and turned her attention back to the stack of books that had been turned in and needed to be put away.
Around her, Mrs. Appleton hummed as she acted as if she were putting away books when really she was just moving them from one place to another, probably without even looking at the titles. She was clearly distracted. And excited. She’d been in this very same cheery mood for several days now. Whatever had happened to Mrs. Appleton during her last day off had to have been just as thrilling to her as spending so much time with Giles was to Lucy.
Shaking her head at whatever strange event had transpired that made Mrs. Appleton so excited, Lucy went about her business.
A loud hissing sound broke into her thoughts. She turned around and frowned. “Not yet,” she whispered to Seth.
He slumped his shoulders and went back to the corner where he’d left his newspaper—a habit she could only thank Giles for instilling in her son. Never before had her son had an active interest in reading the newspaper, but ever since last Tuesday, he’d become enthralled. At first she’d assumed he was just looking for something to do—in the form of finding trouble. But now that he could freely admit to sneaking away to Giles’ house when she wasn’t around, he’d informed her that reading the newspaper was a gentlemanly pursuit and since neither she nor Giles would take him to White’s, he’d read his paper in the corner and pretended he was at his club.
The door to the library creaked open. “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she called to their guest.
“No need, I know where to look for what I came for,” said a familiar voice. Simon.
He walked over and greeted Seth by pressing his finger to his lips and slipping the boy what appeared to be a handful of some sort of candy, then came to Lucy. Truly, he wasn’t a bad sort. Just not her sort. She couldn’t explain it. He was kind enough, and seemed to be genuine. But there was something missing. She didn’t feel the same excitement at the thought of seeing him or kissing him that she did with Giles and if she didn’t know any better, she’d assume the same was true for him. It would seem that he wasn’t truly past Isabelle and perhaps that was why he didn’t seem to have excitement or evoke it.
Overall, he’d taken her reasons for not wishing to continue a courtship with him well enough.
“Woolgathering again?” he
teased, jarring Lucy from her thoughts.
She pushed the three books in her hands to their spot on the shelf then turned back to the stack of books she’d piled up on the table. “Just trying to place what’s happened to your mother,” she said, hoping to keep the subject off her.
Simon looked over at his mother and shook his head ruefully, a small smile playing across his lips. “Can I trust you with a secret?”
“Of course.” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands.
He matched her stance to where he was facing her and whispered, “It’s Giles.”
Chills ran up Lucy’s spine. What did he know? More importantly, what did Giles’ mother know? “What’s Giles?” she asked, straining to keep her voice level.
“It appears he’s found a lady who has struck his fancy,” Simon said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
A small, strangled squeak emerged from her lips.
“That was my response, too,” Simon quipped, his green eyes dancing with what appeared to be good-natured humor. He straightened and nodded toward his mother as she passed by them. “Nobody knows who she is, though.”
“Then how do you know she exists?” Not that she wanted to cast doubt on Giles’ ability to find a lady who “struck his fancy”, as Simon put it. But neither did she think it would be for the best for his entire family to know it was her. Perhaps she’d better stop going to his house to retrieve Seth. Which also meant she should probably stop allowing Seth to go.
“You’re about as distracted as she is,” Simon commented, making Lucy blush. Had he puzzled it out? “Anyway, a few nights back, Giles sent a note to Mother requesting to borrow her best shawl and brooch—” he lifted his brows and dropped his voice— “and apparently these items have yet to be returned.”
“Because of this your mother thinks he gave them to a young lady he’s interested in?” She’d wondered whom he’d borrowed the shawl and brooch from. She’d even considered that he’d found them in one of those chests and didn’t want her to feel bad for wearing them.
“Indeed she does, but I’m not quite so convinced.”
