Page 30 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)

A Kiss is Surely on the Horizon

Sunday service was the one hour a week Myra mingled with the world beyond Blackbriar’s gates. There had been a time when the loneliness gnawed at her, but now, with Mr. Northcott speaking to her as though she were more than a distant obligation, she found the quiet quite tolerable. Peaceful, even.

She stood beside her husband, her arm resting on his as the late summer sun cast golden streaks across the graveled churchyard.

His voice, rich and steady, rose and fell as he exchanged familiar pleasantries with an elderly gentleman he had known since boyhood.

Myra had seen this exchange before, the two men conversing beneath the budding yew tree like clockwork every Sabbath.

Her gaze wandered past them, searching. Neighbors meandered toward their carriages or set off on foot down the winding road, their Sunday finery catching the breeze.

Then she spotted them. Her gaze followed Aunt and Uncle Kingsley as they emerged from the nave, her aunt’s bonnet listing slightly as she fussed with her gloves.

Myra’s heart gave a small flutter. She stepped back, brushing her gloved fingers along her husband’s coat sleeve.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, though he likely hadn’t heard.

He’d certainly been more attentive over the last week, but she knew him well enough to trust that he had given the elderly gentleman his full attention.

With careful poise and a smile, she crossed the churchyard and caught her aunt’s arm just as she adjusted her reticule.

“Aunt, might I beg a moment of your time?”

“Of course, my dear,” her aunt said with that knowing glint that made Myra nervous. Her aunt must know what she wished to speak about. She only hoped there would be more advice, given she hadn’t yet accomplished the first task.

Linking arms, they drifted toward the gate leading into the older part of the cemetery, the hush around them growing as the voices behind them faded.

“Pray, do not torment me any longer. What news have you from your assignment?” her aunt murmured, glancing at her sideways.

Myra steeled herself for the moment she would disappoint her aunt, ready to defend whatever romantic misstep she might have made.

But the only person she seemed to have disappointed was herself.

There had been no kiss. No leaning in to be closer to each other, no fleeting touch of the lips or moment of breathless anticipation.

Smiling in the hope that a bit of cheerfulness would disguise the sting of her own foolish disappointment, she planned to do her best to make the few developments of the last week sound more promising than an outright kiss.

“He has not yet kissed me.” She put her hand out to stop a response. “But there have been developments.”

“Do tell, my dear.”

“Mr. Northcott touched my face.”

“Do you mean to brush away dirt? That is not much of a development.”

Lifting her hand, she checked her surroundings before continuing. She cupped her hand and placed it on her aunt’s face as Mr. Northcott had done to her. “More like this.”

Aunt Kingsley’s eyes widened. “And he did not kiss you after that?”

“I am afraid not, Aunt.” Myra bit her bottom lip. “We spend time together, walking along the cliffs, and we have laughed. Supper is no longer a chore. I do hope you see this as an improvement as it is far better than the silence we have endured these last months.”

“Oh dear!” Aunt Kingsley reached out and took Myra’s hands. “It most certainly is, at least as far as what you previously told me.”

“I am trying, Aunt.” She looked down at their clasped hands, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she acknowledged the deep disappointment of her attempts. “Mayhap I am not the kissable sort.”

“Tell me, dearest, how do you feel when Mr. Northcott joins you for a walk?”

“I am nervous, worried I will say something silly and he will think I am ridiculous. My stomach flutters about the entire time, and I do not know if I should take his arm or twist my parasol…I usually choose the latter.”

“And what of Mr. Northcott?”

Myra didn’t understand. “How am I supposed to know what he thinks?”

“When he laughs, is it with you or at you?”

“With me.” Oh, how she hoped she was right about that. He hadn’t ever made her feel insecure, leastwise not since the horrible conversation the morning his mother had arrived at Blackbriar Hall. “Oh, Aunt, what am I to do?”

She waited, the wisdom she so clearly needed seconds away—she was certain of it—and then her aunt simply said, “Stay the course, my dear. You most certainly are kissable, and I believe a kiss is on the horizon. I’d wager my best bonnet on it.”

* * *

The carriage ride back to Blackbriar was pleasant enough, birds chirping in the trees as they ambled along the country road.

She leaned against Mr. Northcott, enjoying the warmth and closeness as they sat on the same bench, her heart fluttering with every rut in the road that caused them to lean closer.

“How are Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley?” Mr. Northcott asked.

“Well enough. My aunt spoke of hosting a supper party. I think it shall be our first in Society since our wedding, that is, if you are agreeable?”

“I should like that very much. I wish to know the Kingsleys better, especially since they live so close.”

“Mr. Northcott?” Myra turned to him, her curiosity piqued. “Did you not say you visited Blackbriar in your youth?”

“I did. We spent many summers at this estate.”

“Then how is it you are not at least acquainted with my aunt and uncle? I have cousins your age; you surely must know them.”

“Certainly, I am acquainted with them. I even attended Harrow with one of your cousins, but that does not mean I know your aunt and uncle well.” He frowned as he looked at her. “Are you disappointed?”

“Not at all. Although you must not have been very good friends with my cousins.”

“I am afraid not. It is only that you may think poorly of me once I tell you the reason we were not the greatest of friends.”

Myra adjusted in her seat so she could face him, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips so he would know she was teasing. “There is no fear of that, Mr. Northcott; I am already well aware of your snobbery.”

He laughed, and then to her utter surprise, he took hold of her hand, lifting it to kiss her knuckles as he settled back against the cushions. “Well then, no explanation is necessary.”

It wasn’t the sort of kiss her aunt had spoken about, but it was a kiss, nonetheless.

Her hand had been kissed many times, by numerous gentlemen, but there was something quite different in the way Mr. Northcott held her, his lips sending a fire rushing up her arm and then down her spine.

For the first time in her life, she felt a spark of something deep inside and she suddenly realized she might very well swoon if he ever let go.

Eventually he had to release her hand, but it made her quite happy that he hadn’t done so until they arrived at Blackbriar Hall, where he was obliged to release her hand so that he could safely climb out of the carriage and assist her to her feet.