by Liz Tyner
He stood, holding her as if he might whisk her into the steps. ‘I’m pleased to assist you.’
The room was silent, even though she could hear street callers from outside the window.
‘I realise we’ve had no introduction.’
‘Maybe it is best.’ She touched the lapel of his coat. ‘Then we can pretend this didn’t happen.’
She felt his hands slide to her waist. She didn’t wear a firm corset—she had so little to be pulled tight. She could feel his touch pulse into her whole body. Strength blasted into her limbs.
‘I won’t pretend this didn’t happen, although I see no reason to mention it to anyone.’ He kept her close. ‘A memory such as this is to be savoured.’
‘I will enjoy the recollection as well.’ She brushed at his chest, amazed at how solid he felt and that he didn’t step away. She knew she could run her palm the full length or breadth of his waistcoat and he wouldn’t move, or complain. But she stilled. She’d transgressed on his good nature too far already.
‘I suppose you’ve decided I must escort you to your chaperon. Wise of you, I admit.’
Yes, it was wise of her. But she didn’t want to be wise. She wanted to live life like the other women. She missed the soirées and the music, and the sight of something other than the walls of her house.
This was an opportunity, much like seeing a rainbow. When rain clouds disappeared and the colours suddenly appeared in the sky, she wanted to keep them in her sight for ever. But, they only lingered in the memory after fading away. Vivid colours strengthening in the sky, then vanishing. A memory to clasp before she slept.
A prospect that might never arrive again.
Like the man in front of her.
It was as if the same good fortune that created the rainbows now worked to give her one last chance for something she had missed out on. She’d matured expecting that she would some day have a beloved and they would spend long evenings together, holding hands, whispering and, perhaps, sharing a kiss. That he would be the one she’d waited for.
But the time to wait had expired. She had to count the minutes left, not the days.
Sympathy flourished in his expression and nothing else in the world seemed to matter to him but her.
She gathered her courage, but she didn’t really need it when she considered his expression. His gaze told her she could say anything in the world to him. Anything, and he would not have censured her or disapproved.
‘You know I’ve never been kissed.’ She gazed at him, knowing that this would be her last opportunity. She’d never been so bold with her former sweetheart and she’d regretted it after he’d left.
Particularly after she’d discovered she might never again have another prospect.
‘Never?’ His brows rose.
‘Well, my gloves. But it wasn’t impressive. I once saw a maid creep away with the stable boy and he kissed her, and she didn’t appear to mind at all. They seemed amazed.’
He stepped back and moved to the door, still holding her hand. At the door, he shut it, then twirled her around so that her back rested against it. An arm’s width separated them. He softly grasped her waist and his gaze made her feel cherished.
‘But something for you to consider.’ Seriousness tinged his words. ‘To wonder about a kiss is to wonder. But if you have one and like it, and can’t have another, you might not be as happy as before. I’m certain of that.’
‘You have a point.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I must do the proper thing. As I have always done what is proper, I shouldn’t change now.’
‘Always?’
She tilted her head. ‘Until just now. Then, I guess I felt a little sorry for myself and decided I might not have many more chances to be improper.’
She debated asking for a kiss again. Instead of speaking, she watched him move minutely, taking his time, and he pulled her into his arms. His body blended against hers and his hands secured her. Warm sensations rushed so fast she couldn’t decipher them. She’d entered a dream of fairy dust.
‘I might feel a little guilt,’ he said as he watched her. ‘But I can handle it. Can you?’
‘I’d like to find out.’
His lips feathered hers, the briefest instant, the tiniest twinkling.
Her body warmed and new strength flourished.
When he released her, it almost felt as if she had stepped into a different world. He studied her.
Now she knew what a kiss was, and she could be satisfied, step away and be happy with the memory. Her heart fluttered. She didn’t really want to step away. She wanted another kiss.
Disappointment overpowered her. Only one kiss. It had been rather like that first glimmer of a rainbow fading away before the colours brightened.
Her throat choked on all the words she could use to describe it.
She could not tell him how wonderful it was. How much it had meant to her and how she would carry it inside her the rest of her life. Words would never tell him the truth of it and she could not put it into sentences. He had answered her question. But if she told him how it felt, it would seem as if she were asking for more and being truly improper. She must maintain what dignity she had left. ‘It was adequate.’
‘Adequate?’ he asked, chin lowered as both brows rose.
She caught herself frowning, at a loss. How could she tell him he’d been correct when he’d said that she would want more?
‘Thank you. That was kind of you.’ She patted his upper arm and smiled her appreciation.
He deliberated. Then he took her cheeks in his hands and his eyelids lowered. He moved forward and his lips found hers, and this time they brought the promise of the full rainbow with them.
His fingertips slid down, down, until he clasped her waist and held her. The intensity behind his lips fused itself into her body. She sparkled into starlight.
His mouth kept touching, exploring and feeling her with a bursting sweetness, but also with the charge of a sip of brandy she shouldn’t have taken. If not for his arms around her and the door at her back, she would have toppled to the floor.
To be held upright, aloft, by this man tingled her to her toes.
He backed away, still holding her upright. ‘So, your first true kiss? Adequate?’
She found her voice. ‘Exceedingly so. You taste of what I would think gunpowder should taste like if a female created it. All smoky and sparkly and a few more things for good measure.’
His lips curved and he brushed a kiss on her nose.
He ducked again, his lips taking her back to the place they’d been, only this time going deeper, further into the feelings. Further against her.
His mouth, tongue and body pressed, igniting and stealing breath.
He moved away from the kiss, his gaze darkened in a way she’d never seen.
After a few heartbeats, he said, ‘I suppose we should see how your friend is faring.’
She put a palm on his coat, unable to feel him for the thickness of the fabric. ‘We should.’
He rested his forehead against hers and still captured her. His voice spoke gentler than any man’s she’d ever heard. ‘Sweet, I tell you true when I say I would savour letting you learn all you wish to know about kisses, about a man’s body, a man’s desires and your own feelings. It would be a wonder.’
His lips almost touched hers. ‘But it’s not my place to teach you such things and I don’t wish to think of you lying awake, alone, regretting our time together, or regretting that we cannot still be exploring each other.’
He stepped away. ‘I could not be happy having a little of you and watching you go. I fear you are someone I might stay awake thinking of and not be satisfied because I couldn’t hold you. You should return to your companion. If for no other reason, then for the sake of my sleep and my dreams.’
‘I think I picked well for my first kiss.’ She bru
shed the gloved tip of her finger across his chin and heard a quiet chuckle.
She didn’t want to leave, but knew she must. Turning her head, she reached for the doorknob, but his hand was on it, reaching between her and the opening. He immediately moved aside, ushering her into the hallway.
The open door to the room where Mavis rested loomed in front of her.
‘The carriage is at your disposal for as long as you need it,’ he said. His footsteps sounded as he left, moving deeper into the house.
He didn’t follow her and the disappointment gouged, but she knew he mustn’t remain.
* * *
Vivian didn’t interrupt the conversation between Mrs Rush and Mavis.
Inside the room, Mavis sat, her arms crossed and her mouth grim. ‘I don’t need a physician.’
‘I’ll send someone to tell him we don’t need him,’ the housekeeper said.
Mavis agreed.
‘You’ve got a bump on the back of your head and some nice bruises. And a scratch on your nose.’ The housekeeper inspected Mavis. ‘You don’t need being poked at. When my Jimmy was a lad, he had worse bumps and could still get two switchings by the end of the day.’
‘I’m feeling much better,’ Mavis said.
‘A lady’s ills are best treated by us.’ The housekeeper dropped the cloth in the bowl of water. ‘When I was young, we didn’t go runnin’ to physicians when we had a nose bleed. We learned quick how to manage for ourselves.’
‘I have never needed a physician in my life.’ Mavis straightened her shoulders. ‘And that’s why I’m so healthy.’
‘Are you ready to return home?’ Vivian asked Mavis, concerned they might be missed.
Mavis shook her head. ‘Soon, dear. I’m really dashed, right now.’ She perused the housekeeper. ‘The tea you’ve sent the maid for—did you say lemon balm with chamomile?’
The housekeeper nodded. ‘A secret blend I learned from my aunt.’
Vivian saw another of the big chairs—she supposed an advantage of a household with a man such as she’d seen. She couldn’t help herself. She moved to the chair, curled into it and relaxed.
‘And I know the absolute best mixture for youthful skin, too,’ the housekeeper whispered.
‘Oh.’ Mavis raised herself up. ‘You must share. You must.’
‘Well...’ The housekeeper pushed at an errant curl slipping from her mob cap. ‘I really do not tell just anyone, but the master did bump you about.’
Vivian felt herself droop and leaned back into the chair, dozing, dreaming of butterflies with attractive shoulders. Fluttering long eyelashes on them as well. And beautifully soft lips covering a masculine firmness. And they inspected her, their eyes so clear and so blue and so deep they were like staring into softly tinted glass that she could fall into and be surrounded by the shades, enveloping her into an azure-tinted world of sparkling sunshine.
She slid from her dream, surprised to discover butterflies could be so attractive. Then she tensed, realising she was being stared at.
Both women—Mavis, bedraggled, and the housekeeper—stood over her, staring down.
‘You think it will work?’ Mavis asked the housekeeper.
‘Nothing to lose,’ the other woman said, observing Vivian.
‘What?’ Vivian asked, body tensing.
‘Now, dear, have I ever let you down?’ Mavis purred, a black and yellowish cast above her cheeks.
Chapter Two
Five days later, Vivian sat in a hackney carriage with her arms crossed. She inspected the profane word carved into the side of the equipage near her elbow.
‘If Mother finds out about this, she will lock me in my room.’ Vivian brushed a strand of hair back into place.
Mavis slumped in the seat across from her, her bonnet sliding down over her ear. ‘I assure you I’m not enjoying this either. If we’d not convinced your mother you were a bit better, she would never have gone with your father to visit her sister.’ Mavis shook her head. ‘Your mother trusts me.’
Vivian saw a cluster of briars and gorse beyond the window. ‘We’re going away from London. Down a country track, clouds in the sky—dark ones—and if it rains, we could be stuck here for days.’
‘If we get stuck...’ Mavis moved forward in her seat. ‘Both your parents will find out and toss me into the street.’
‘Convincing Mother I was feeling better was difficult. Without your help, I couldn’t have managed.’
‘We had no choice.’ Mavis tapped her reticule against Vivian’s knee. ‘You’re trembling even more, and weaker, I can tell. Maybe this woman can help. That housekeeper swears she can. Says she travels all about, studying remedies others use.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’ll work.’
‘Doesn’t mean they won’t. We had to leave while your mother is visiting your aunt because you know as well as I, she’d refuse to let you take such a journey. If you weren’t so ill, I’d never let the vagrant near you. She claims to be a woman of remedies and fortunes, and will likely state she can cobble a pair of boots should she think she can get a coin from it. But the housekeeper said she trusts her like no other. It seems she works without charge for the poorest and claims to let the rich pay her double.’
‘I cannot imagine how she will make me pay. My father is rich enough, but if he found out what I’m doing he would most likely send the magistrate for her.’
‘The housekeeper affirms the woman, Ella Etta, saved her son once.’ Mavis ducked her head, and her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Vivian, we have to try. The physician hasn’t helped you and it’s been years. They’ve had their chance. Chances.’
‘All my pin money went to hire this carriage.’
Mavis tapped her again with the reticule. ‘And the silver vase in your room. I’m not sure how I’ll explain that to your mother.’
‘Oh, Lady Darius,’ Vivian spoke in a mock-sweet voice, ‘the vase? We hardly ever use it and I needed some coin to take your daughter deep into the woods and toss her to a vagabond who lives there. Your daughter...um... Vivian. No, haven’t seen her since.’
Vivian dusted her gloves together and continued in the false tone. ‘Fussy little thing. She wore holes in my ears with all her complaining when the carriage went over a bump, as if I had anything to do with putting the road there.’
Mavis opened her reticule and took out a handkerchief, then dotted her forehead. ‘You are bearing up well. Just keep thinking things will work out for the best. Don’t imagine us disappearing into the woods and never being seen of again. Our carcases turning to weathered bones,’ she muttered to herself. ‘My bones will be weathered. They’re already halfway there.’
Vivian let herself slide sideways in the seat and propped herself in the corner. ‘Mavis. Mavis. Mavis. You’ve led me astray.’ She brushed a glove over the window pane. ‘Miles astray.’
The carriage listed to its side and lumbered along.
‘We are slowing,’ Mavis spoke, her voice toneless. ‘I hope we are at our destination. Otherwise...’
Vivian couldn’t keep herself from turning to the window. She saw two wagons, a donkey cart and a hut which might have been patched together from debris.
‘The housekeeper said they would be here.’ Mavis had a gloved hand at the window.
The door opened and the carriage steps were pulled down.
‘Out,’ Mavis commanded.
Vivian grimaced. ‘You pretend to be the rich, ill daughter of the baron. I’ll watch and see what happens.’
Mavis slapped at Vivian’s leg. ‘Out. Act like a diamond of the first water. These are common folk. They will expect it.’
Vivian stepped to the ground, thankful her legs held her upright.
The driver appeared ready to leave them without a backward glance. She hoped he remembered how upset she’d told him her father would be if anyth
ing happened to his precious, and only, daughter. She’d neglected to tell the driver her father might be so far in his cups he wouldn’t remember having a child.
She examined the encampment.
A man walked around the wagon parked under a sycamore tree and gave a brief nod to them before he retraced his steps. She heard a shout and he called out to someone, but Vivian couldn’t understand the name.
The man, hair streaked with white, remained far enough away he could hear them if they spoke, but not close enough to invite conversation. He sat on the ground, propping his back against a tree, his knees up to rest his arms, and watched them.
Mavis kept her voice low and barely moved her lips. ‘He acts as though he thinks we might steal something.’
Then Ella Etta appeared, wearing what might have been a man’s coat and boots, with a torn yellow skirt hem hanging over the footwear. The red scarf around her hair fluttered in the wind.
Vivian held herself firm and took a few steps forward, nervous to be walking under the canopy of dark trees, concerned about the forest closing in around her and the sentry who studied the ground in front of him, but knew their every move.
The tramp had nearly swaddled herself in clothes and her fingers reminded Vivian of dried-chicken leg bones, covered in rings.
‘I hear...’ Vivian quaked inside, but she stared down the old woman and ignored the curious scrutiny that circled her ‘...tales of your skills.’
Ella Etta smirked, showing teeth so healthy they could put a bear to shame.
Vivian’s strength all but disappeared. If not for Mavis, she would have pretended to be lost, asked directions to the nearest village and fled.
The hag’s countenance—every day of her life was shown there—held a confidence that Vivian preferred to back away from. But she’d nowhere to go for safety. The accident had changed that.
Ella Etta touched the loop dangling from her ear, partially hidden by the scarf. ‘It’s said stars ask my permission before they change places. Idle talk.’ She sniffed. ‘People should speak of the bigger things I do. Last morning, I wanted to rise before the sun, but also wanted to sleep more, so I delayed the sunrise until I wanted it. Naught is said of it.’
