Page 17

seventeen

I sabella spurred her mare onwards. The warm morning and the nearly empty Hyde Park were the perfect combination for a ride with Patrick and for forgetting the pain of seeing Anthony.

After her brief but shocking encounter with him, she hadn’t seen him again. But his pain had left a deep mark in her heart. She’d sent him another message to tell him that, if he needed a friend, she would be there for him. Surprisingly, he’d answered with a simple ‘thank you,’ which was promising. She would try again.

He was hurting, and maybe he’d changed his mind about her, but she didn’t care; it hurt, but she wanted to be his friend anyway, if he let her.

Behind her, Patrick was in full pursuit, low on his stallion, but if there was one thing her mare could do, it was fly. Her mare raced along the track, lifting drops of mud with her hooves.

Morning dew glistened on the tree leaves, and a light mist lingered inches above the ground. She loved riding early because the park was almost empty and she could spur Marigold.

She reined in when she arrived at the receiving house next to the Serpentine. “First!” She raised a fist, panting heavily.

Patrick stopped next to her a few moments later. “Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re lighter than I am.” He wheezed. “Of course you’re faster.”

“Lord Patrick, you’re not a good sport. Marigold and I won fair and square. If anything, your stallion tends to get distracted quite easily. He stopped to look at that other stallion across the field.” She jumped off the saddle to give Marigold time to rest.

He dismounted as well. “I demand compensation.”

“I don’t have any money, and we didn’t agree on a wager.” She stepped onto the porch of the receiving house.

“Money is so vulgar.”

“Only those with money say that.”

He shook his head, inching closer. His golden curls framed his sapphire eyes. “What about a kiss?”

Her face flamed. Her whole body did. “A kiss?”

“For having humiliated my Triton and me without mercy. And he isn’t easily distracted. Triton is the most focused—” He didn’t finish the sentence as Triton gave a yank at the reins still in Patrick’s hand and shoved him a few feet away.

The stallion lowered his proud head to sniff at a tuft of grass.

“Bloody hell.” Patrick released the reins.

“What were you saying?”

“That I want a kiss.” He stepped closer, and she caught a whiff of his fresh cologne.

She rose on her tiptoes and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. “Done.”

He scoffed. “That’s not a kiss. Triton gives me kisses like that. I want something proper.”

“There’s nothing proper about a kiss.” Her lips tingled at the thought of kissing him. “And I’ve already given you a kiss.”

“Allow me to return it to you, then, because I’m not satisfied.” He took her hand and led her to a quiet, secluded spot from where the path wasn’t visible. He cupped her face gently, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “This is a kiss.”

He kissed her with determination but gently. Every sensation other than the feeling of Patrick’s soft lips on hers vanished. She no longer felt the warmth of the sun, the breeze on her skin, or the fatigue from the ride. Her own heartbeat seemed to pulse on her lips.

His tongue demanded entrance, and she parted her lips slowly. When she opened her mouth for him, he kissed her deeply, starting a warm tingling throughout her body.

Her first kiss. Her head spun with the onslaught of sensations.

“That’s a kiss,” he whispered against her lips. “And I shall consider myself compensated.”

“Good gracious.” Her knees threatened to buckle.

He stepped back from her when the sound of other riders came from the distance. “Have I shocked you?”

Yes . “No.”

“May I kiss you again in the future?”

Cheeky sod. “Yes.”

“Do more than kissing?” He arched his brow in a mischievous expression that had her heart racing in a moment.

Her body warmed all over again. “I’m not sure.”

He gently took her face when the riders were gone although the receiving house hid them. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, but I must be honest. I like you a lot. You’re charming, and I would like to kiss you again.”

“Do you mean you want to court me?” She hated that her voice sounded small, but his proposal took her off guard. Two marriage proposals in a year! How odd.

He released her face and stepped back from her. “No, darling. I’m not going to marry you. If that bothers you, then we’ll just be friends. Your choice.”

“Oh.” Was she disappointed? No.

She felt like an idiot for having been na?ve enough to assume he wanted to marry her after just one kiss. But aside from that, his honesty lifted a weight off her shoulders. Another marriage proposal would have been too much since she’d had no idea what to do about the first one.

What he proposed was exciting, wrong, and heady. A secret affair with a handsome gentleman without the burden of the ‘ till death do us part ’ commitment. A gentleman she trusted and who was her friend.

“Rest assured,” he said. “I will not speak of our agreement to anyone. I swear it. Your reputation will remain unblemished. My rules are simple—no courting, no wedding, no gossip, only pleasure.”

It should be a simple choice. She should say no, thank you, as Mother would want her to. But…all the wonderful sensations the kiss had triggered were still dancing along her body, and she liked them.

She liked how they made her feel—beautiful, desirable, and special. Was she in love with Patrick? No, she didn’t think so because the thought of marrying him and spending the rest of her life with him concerned her. She wouldn’t be happy with him as her husband. But she couldn’t deny the attraction or the curiosity of exploring, feeling, and experiencing things new to her.

Other women her age were already experienced, having kissed or spent intimate hours with a gentleman, and she was curious. Those girls talked about passion and pleasure as the best things in life. Could it be true? Judging by how her body hummed after the kiss, yes, it could.

After a kiss on her cheek, he guided her out of the receiving house. She was floating on a cloud of pleasant opportunities.

“Think about it.” He helped her onto her horse, staring at her with a hunger she’d never seen in the eyes of a man, and her pulse spiked. “I’ll certainly think about it.” He pulled down her glove and kissed her inner wrist right over the swift kick of a vein.

She gasped both at the audacity and the shot of pleasure his soft lips started.

She would think about his proposal, too.

Hours later, she had thought about it so much she was restless.

After their ride, she couldn’t find peace in the glasshouse. Pruning and nurturing her plants did nothing to calm the rising emotion in her. A book was needed. A long, solitary activity to think.

Half an hour later, she was wandering the house with Machiavelli’s The Prince in her hands. She’d chosen a book that didn’t involve any romantic scenes, poetry, or love stories. Just a man obsessed with power and how to crush his enemies.

Her reading choice didn’t help. Patrick’s kiss and words were the only things she could think about. Why couldn’t she enjoy herself? Gentlemen did it all the time, and no one cared. Why was she expected to enjoy herself only with her husband?

She almost bumped into Lawson hurrying along the corridor.

“...will fetch something for you,” Lawson said over her shoulder before coming to a halt in front of her.

“Is something the matter?” She hadn’t realised she was at the back entrance.

Lawson seemed about to cry. “You needn’t worry.”

“Whom were you talking to?” She craned her neck to see a young woman in tattered clothes standing at the back entrance.

Her breath caught. The gaunt, pale woman couldn’t be Lady Mary, the daughter of the Earl of Teck.

“I’ll be right back,” Lawson said before heading upstairs.

Isabella walked over to the woman. “Mary. Is it you?”

The woman lowered her gaze. “I am she, my lady.”

“You can call me Isabella, as always.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.” Mary shook her head. “You’d better not let anyone see us together.”

Isabella rubbed her forehead. “What happened to you? I haven’t seen you. You disappeared. Your parents said you’d left London.”

“I had a child.” Mary swallowed hard. “My parents asked me to leave their house, and I’ve been on my own ever since. They…don’t want to see me again, and the father of my child refuses to see me as well.”

“Oh.” She didn’t ask for further questions. Mary wasn’t married. Now her absence and tattered clothes made sense. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. About being a mother, I mean.” Mary showed her the basket filled with clothes. “I work as a seamstress now. Thank goodness I learnt how to sew when I lived with my parents.”

Isabella put a hand on her chest. She wasn’t as brave and skilled as Mary. In her place, she would be dead in a week. “And your child?”

“Struggling. He’s only a baby, and he’s already learning how difficult life is. That’s why I asked Lawson…” Mary cleared her throat. “I need help.”

Lawson rushed back to the hallways. “Here.” She handed a small pouch to Mary. “I hope it helps.”

Mary accepted the pouch with a trembling hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll repay you. I’m sorry to have come here. If I weren’t desperate…”

“Do not worry, my lady,” Lawson said.

A sickening lump crawled in Isabella’s throat. “Wait. Please.”

“There’s no need.” Mary flushed red.

“Yes, there is. Please wait.”

She went upstairs and emptied her purse. Ten pounds, but she could do more. She stuffed a warm scarf, coat, and hat from her armoire in a satchel and added a gold brooch her maid hadn’t put away yet.

She returned to the rear entrance, hoping not to meet Mother along the way. Mary was about to leave.

“Mary, wait. Take it.”

Mary held the basket in front of her. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And I’ll give you more. I promise.”

Mary didn’t take the satchel. “If your parents know you helped me, they’ll be displeased.”

Not her father. “I take full responsibility for helping you, and if you need more, please come back.”

Lawson gave Mary an encouraging nod. “We’ll help you.”

Mary accepted the bag, her eyes shining. “Thank you.” She spun on her heels and left in a hurry.

Lawson shut the door. “You must be careful. Lady Mary isn’t welcome in society, and being associated with her will cause you problems.”

“Just because I helped her? I’m sure Father will agree with me.” And she would prove that now.

Lady Mary had been the most popular débutante during the last Season. She’d collected a long queue of suitors, not only thanks to her beauty but also to her witty conversations. Everyone had loved her until she’d broken the rules.

She knocked on Father’s study. “Father? May I?”

“Come in, darling.”

She pushed the door, and Father opened his arms to welcome her.

“What is it? You seem upset.” He patted her cheek. “Is it your mother again? She doesn’t want you to spend too much time in the conservatory, does she?”

“No, it’s about something else.” She sat on the stuffed chair next to him.

He removed his glasses and set aside the papers he’d been working on. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s about Lady Mary, the daughter of the Earl of Teck.”

Father stiffened.

“She disappeared from society. After her perfect Season and all the suitors interested in her, she just left. Well, it turned out, she was thrown out of her house.”

“I know.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “As a matter of fact, I’m aware of what happened to Mary.”

She took his arm. “We can help her, can’t we? She’s in need, and her child is struggling.”

“Darling.” He exhaled. “What Mary did is unforgivable.”

“Unforgivable?” She removed her hand. “She’s a mother who needs help.”

“Shush.” He glanced at the door. “I don’t want your mother to hear you. Mary wasn’t careful. She thought only about her own enjoyment, and there are consequences for ladies who pursue pleasure. A child with no father, out of wedlock, when she wasn’t even officially engaged.”

“Does that matter in front of what she’s facing?”

“It depends on the mistake.” His tone was so firm and resolute her heart broke. “There’s nothing we can do for her. Women like her, who give themselves before marriage, cause only trouble. She wasn’t a common country girl. She was an earl’s daughter and disgraced herself and her family.”

“You agree with me that women should vote.”

“What does the vote have to do with anything? Mary behaved like a reckless, ordinary girl. She should have known better.” He put his glass back on. “Her reckless behaviour is an argument against the reliability of women and their judgement or their ability to vote.”

“So one mistake, and she’s shunned for life.”

“Yes.” The word was final, like the sound of a lid shutting on a coffin.

The pain his words caused shocked her into silence. She’d been so sure Father would have agreed with her.

She’d just learnt how truly na?ve she was.