His thumb pressed against her lower back through the silk, the heat shooting into her spine.The sensation was gone as quickly as it came, but now she couldn't stop noticing the way he held her—close, but unfortunately not quite close enough to be improper.
She wanted to believe it might mean something more.That he might think of her in the same way she often thought of him.
She'd delayed her come out by a year after his father died, not wanting to make her debut while he was in mourning, certain that when the time came, he would see her and know.
He hadn't.She'd waited through one Season, then another, watching him dance with other women, exchange pleasantries, and retreat as soon as a suitor was in Thea’s presence.She'd accepted William's courtship because William had looked at her with undisguised want.Thea had grown tired of waiting for a man who would never see her as anything more than a childhood friend.
And she gave herself to him.All of herself.Several times, in fact.Which only made William’s death all the more tragic.They’d never actually spoken their vows, so she was a ruined woman.Her mother would suffer apoplexy if she knew.Wesley would likely think of her as a lightskirt unbefitting the title of a duchess, that was, if he ever did take interest in her.
It would seem that Thea just wasn’t meant to know of true love and marriage.
“And I suppose you have opinions on what men are suitable for my affections?”
The words came out sharper than she'd intended, edged with years of frustration she'd tried to bury.Wesley's eyes met hers, and she almost thought she saw heat there.But if she did, it was gone just as fast.
The waltz ended, saving him from answering her question.Wesley released her with the same smooth grace he always had, stepping back from her in one swift motion.Her waist felt cold without his hand there, and she fought her irritation at how she allowed him to affect her.
“Thank you for the rescue.”Her voice came out steadier than she felt.“I'll be sure to claim a different savior next time Pemberton corners me, so as not to overburden you.”
“Thea—”
But whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by her mother's arrival.Lady Hasting descended upon them in a rustle of burgundy silk, her smile bright and her eyes sharp.
“Your Grace, how kind of you to partner with my daughter.”
“It’s always a pleasure.”Wesley's gaze lingered on Thea's face a moment too long, causing heat to creep up the back of her neck.
“You're too gracious.”Her mother's hand closed around Thea's elbow.“I believe Lord Harrington was hoping for an introduction to the gardens.The night-blooming jasmine is quite spectacular this time of year.”
“Mother—” It was just another reminder that even her mother knew that nothing would ever come of her infatuation with the duke.
“Do excuse us, Your Grace.”
She was being steered away before she could protest, her mother's grip firm.Thea glanced back once.Wesley stood where she'd left him, watching her go with an expression that made Thea want to run back to him and ask him why he never pursued her.
She turned away before she could do something foolish.
When she reached her bedchamber, her skin still burned where Wesley had touched her.
She dismissed her maid with instructions not to wait for her, claiming exhaustion.The woman bobbed a curtsey and departed, leaving Thea alone with the silence and the familiar restlessness that always followed these evenings.It was worse tonight.The waltz had stirred up everything she'd spent years trying to ignore.
The clock on the mantel read midnight.Late enough that the household would assume she'd retired for the night.Early enough that things would just be getting interesting at the Silver Fox.
Thea knelt before the trunk sitting inside her wardrobe.A false bottom revealed the clothes she kept hidden there: a man's shirt, a pair of breeches, a dark green waistcoat, and a coat that had been tailored to fit her narrow shoulders.Tucked underneath the clothing were a length of linen to bind her breasts, and a cap to conceal her hair and face.
It was everything she needed to transform into Kit Barton for the evening.She stripped off her night rail and began.The binding came first, flattening her curves into a shape that would be undetectable beneath all of the layers.Then the shirt, the breeches, and the waistcoat.Lastly, the coat buttoned over everything.She tucked her hair beneath the cap before pulling it low on her forehead.A touch of ash from the burned end of a cork darkened her brows and added shadow beneath her cheekbones.
After all that she’d lived through, Thea had decided long ago that she was going to do as she pleased.She’d always enjoyed cards.And all the more so, she enjoyed winning money from crowds of drunk men.
The mirror showed her someone else.In low enough lighting, her appearance was that of a young man who might be a second son or a clerk.She didn’t prefer to alter her appearance this way, but at least while she was out playing cards, there would be no mother scheming to marry her off, and no duke she couldn't stop wanting.
Kit Barton had none of Thea's problems.Kit Barton was free.
The servants' stairs took her down to the garden and then she hurried out the gate to a hired hack that conveyed her to the Silver Fox.
The Fox was not, strictly speaking, a hell.Hells catered to the desperate and dissolute, men prone to losing their fortunes in a single night of bad judgment.The Fox attracted men who wanted to play cards without the weight of their titles, younger sons with more skill than inheritance, the occasional lord slumming it for the thrill.
Winning money from some of the very men her mother forced her to dance with made it all the more fun.
