“My pride is injured more than my body,” she replied stiffly. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d very much like you to get yourself situated so that I might have the room alone to dress.”
“Situated how?” He frowned.
“Please get ready, sir.” She clenched her teeth. “And then see yourself out.”
“What are you mad at me for?”
Her hip throbbed and she needed space and time to gather her wits. “I am not angry, Mr.Taylor, I am simply requesting a moment. One which does not come with the pleasure of your company.”
“I didn’t want to...” He caught himself, swallowing back whatever he was going to say next. “Fine. I’ll take care of what I need to and then get out of your way.”
A half hour later, they were outside the inn, awaiting the coach. Lizzy was sure it would be another arduous day, made all the more uncomfortable by the incessant thoughts flooding her mind—memories of Tuck’s muscles and arms, and the sensation of being hoisted onto his broad, solid body. The mere contemplation of what it might feel like to reach, touch, stroke, and explore sent a cascade of wicked thoughts through her mind. And the unhelpful fact that he currently stood a mere two feet away heightened the intensity of these musings.
The nose-picking naval officer emerged, strutting like a rooster and accompanied by a striking woman in a red dress—not conventionally beautiful, but utterly unforgettable. As she walked past, she wiggled her fingers at Tuck and murmured, “Morning, America.”
When had Tuck forged an acquaintance withthatwoman?A nettling sensation pricked at Lizzy. She never felt possessive of a man, preferring the company of her female friends. This new feeling was remarkable and unwelcome, perhaps stemming from her protective instinct after rescuing him. And if she found herself flustered by the other woman’s knowing gaze, one could attribute it to her current state of discomposure, far from home. Emotions were certainly running high.
They boarded the coach, and she forced herself into a torpor to mask the perplexing thoughts swirling through her mind. She didn’t stir again until midday, once they’d arrived in the Cotswolds and the coachman made a stop in a village known as Tree by the Hill. Lizzy couldn’t discern which tree or which hill, as the landscape was dotted with many. While the horses were being watered, she seized the opportunity to slip into a shop that piqued her interest: Hill Booksellers. How ideal. Purchasing a book would provide her with an evening activity that didn’t involve tossing and turning in bed, tormented by ponders of whether or not Tuck would reach out to her once more.
Tuck, having the good sense to understand she didn’t want him near, hung back by the stagecoach, watching the driver load bags for the new passengers.
A bell tinkled overhead as Lizzy stepped into the space, her eyes straining to adjust to the dimness. It was perfect—a hodgepodge bookshop, the type she adored, with its overfilled bookcases and old-paper smell. Dust motes danced in a shaft of light, drawing her attention to a thin green volume on horse breeding in the case in front of her.
Unusual topic. She impulsively reached out and opened it, slamming the cover shut immediately. The images inside the book were decidedly not equine. There’d been a woman with her plump thighs indecently splayed before king and country and aman knelt between them, face buried in her most private part. He was kissing her. There.
She peeked again. The woman’s head was thrown back, her eyes closed but her mouth opened in prayer or ecstasy—maybe both. Lizzy glanced around, but the only other person in the shop was an elderly man dozing behind the counter. She bit the inside of her lip and flipped to another page. And another. And another. Dear God. She had a vivid imagination but hadneverpictured any of this.
Was this an accident at a publisher’s? Or did an entire world exist of filthy books being cloaked in the veil of respectability? Whatever the reason, there was nothing for it. She was going to have to purchase this book. At the very least she deserved to understand what Tuck already knew about, the myriad activities that men and women performed together alone in the dark. She paused.
Or during the day.
In her mind, intimacy, as she understood it, was secretive and silent, something that happened once the lamps were out and the household inhabitants slumbered. But what nonsense. People must do these things whenever they feel like it, provided they have the space and willing company.
Here she was, no longer a child and not even a green girl. She was a woman with one foot into spinsterdom, and she knew nothing. Invisible flames shot out her ears. She hated not understanding things. And so she wouldn’t, not for a moment longer.
But she couldn’t saunter forward and purchase this title. What if the seller opened it to check the price? The best thing to do was to use her money as a solution. She grabbed a pamphlet titledPoetical Essay on the Existing State of Thingsby a poet she’d never heard of, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and then William Wordsworth’spopularGuide to the Lakes. Perfect. Suitably dull and nonconfrontational. She placed the so-called horse-breeding book on the bottom of the stack and made her way to the shopkeeper for payment.
Her heart pounded so loudly she assumed the gentleman behind the counter would wake to it. But in the end, it took her considerable throat clearing, two politeyoo-hoos, and a great deal of knocking about to get him to stir.
The bookseller yawned, sleepily glanced at the titles, and mumbled, “Ten shillings.”
Before he’d even gathered his wits, she’d paid and was out the door, walking hard and fast to the coach.
“What happened?” Tuck asked the moment she returned.
“Nothing of interest.” Lizzy averted her gaze. Why should she reveal her secret? It was none of his business. Except... he did appear to be knowledgeable, and she wanted to know about the business of lovemaking. She fought the desperate urge to fidget, but tension thrummed through her like harp strings tuned too tight.
“You’re excited or guilty about something,” he observed after a moment. “And I’m not sure if that makes me curious or nervous.”
She gnawed the inside of her cheek. How did he read her so easily? Most days it was as if she lived wrapped in a cloak of invisibility. No one could ever tell what she was thinking or cared to look hard enough to decipher her moods.
And yet, Tuck had done so with a two-second glance.
“I found something, and I believe it will be of great use in terms of furthering my education. And it’s on a subject that you appear knowledgeable on.”
“That’s unlikely. Hockey isn’t a thing yet, and you don’t seem all that interested in ice or skating.”
“It’s about intimacy.”
