Page 70 of To Steal a Kiss

“But Matilda told me your mother was a viscount’s daughter,” she said, frowning. “I can’t claim anything like that.”

“Yes, and my father’s great-uncle was an earl,” he added with a shrug. “And my father caused a scandal by losing all our money and dying in penury, leaving his two children in the gutter to scrabble with the rats. I clawed our fortune back with hard work and the running of a less than respectable establishment.”

“But Hunter’s is the most exclusive club in London,” Alice protested.

“Now,” Nate said pointedly. “It wasn’t to begin with, and I worked at all aspects, including throwing the louts out and breaking noses when required. Mud sticks, Alice.” There was a thread of anxiety to his voice now and when he looked up, she could see it in his eyes, something a little vulnerable, a little bit unsure. “You could have done better than me,” he said.

Alice stared at him for a moment. “You know,” she said, reaching out and tracing the edge of his jaw. She could feel the rasp of whiskers just appearing, and enjoyed the rough edge under her fingertips. “Before I met you, I told Prue I wished she could write a hero for me, that she could conjure him up and make him real. Do you know what I asked for?”

Nate shook his head, a curious look in his eyes. “A handsome prince? A duke?”

“No!” she said with a huff of laughter. “Ridiculous man, as if I would. I asked for a kind man who never treated me like a child.” She trailed her fingertips over the curve of his lips. “A man with a devilish smile,” she whispered, leaning forward to press her mouth to his. “A man who was just the right amount of wicked.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, opening to her kiss.

“I think I might know someone who fits that description,” he said against her mouth, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“So do I,” she said. “It’s that stranger in the moonlight again.”

“Hmm,” he said, nipping at her ear and making her squirm. “Well, you’ll just have put up with me until you see him again.”

Alice laughed as he rolled her onto her back and settled into the cradle of her thighs. “I can do that.”

***

Matilda wiped her eyes and gave her nose a vigorous blow. “Stop it, you foolish creature,” she muttered to herself. “You will not turn into a watering pot. You’re better than that.”

She’d asked the driver to take her on a tour somewhere, wherever he pleased, knowing she needed a little time to compose herself. Prue and Robert were engaged to visit friends this afternoon, so she would join them for dinner. They’d asked her to accompany them, assuring her their friends would not mind, but Matilda had refused. How tired she was of being the gooseberry. Seeing Nate and Alice so happy together had been wonderful, and yet she was heartsick. How could she be envious of them? It was wicked of her. Not that she wished them any ill, far from it. She was genuinely happy for them, but….

But.

There was no way on earth she would return to live in a house with a couple of newlyweds. It would be rubbing salt in the wound, and eventually she would say something spiteful and hate herself for it. No. She needed to get out and establish herself. A companion would have to be found. No doubt some humourless creature, dried up and fossilised. With a start of shock, Matilda realised what a dreadful and unfair thing that was to think of another unmarried woman. She was perilously close to being considered an aging spinster herself, and she didn’t even have the benefit of an unblemished reputation. How could she make judgements about women who found themselves in such circumstances through no fault of their own?

Burdened with an excess of self-loathing, guilt, and a healthy dose of the blue devils, this brought on another round of sobbing until she’d soaked two lace edged hankies.

“Really, Matilda,” she scolded herself, disgusted with such a display of self-indulgent pity. “Pull yourself together.”

It was just as well she’d not gone with Prue and Robert, she thought with a rueful sniff.

Noticing a flash of green beyond the coach window, Matilda got the attention of the driver and asked him to pull over. The confines of the coach were smothering and, more than anything, she wished to be out of London. Memories of summers in the country as a child crowded her mind, making her sick with longing for a time when her life had been carefree and safe. A time when she’d had everything she’d ever dreamed of. She longed to be surrounded by trees and grass and birdsong, and away from the cruelty and glittering painted beauty of the metropolis.

The enclosed patch of green surrounded by trees was hardly the idyll she sought, but it seemed like a little oasis of calm and it might help her wretched heart settle itself a little.

As one of the postilions handed her down, she realised it was St James’ Square. Some of the grandest and most sought-after homes in the city enclosed the little green, and Matilda gave a laugh. Good grief, not exactly the rural country scene she longed for, but still the cool green beneath the canopy of the trees called to her, an irresistible pull on what was becoming a hot afternoon.

“I’ll only be a moment or two,” she assured the coach driver.

“Should you like Charles to accompany you, Miss Hunt?” he asked, gesturing to the man who’d helped her down.

“Oh, no,” she said, not wanting to be watched in case she was taken with another fit of the dismals. “It’s unnecessary. I’ll not go beyond the square.”

Moving past the railings, the path led her to the centre where a large, shallow pond glittered in the afternoon sun. On a grand plinth in the middle of the water was a statue of William the Third on horseback. Matilda sighed and tried to allow her lungs to unlock enough to draw a deep breath as she walked the periphery of the basin. How lovely it would be to kick off her shoes and paddle in that cool water. She smiled a little to herself as she imagined how that would be viewed by the illustrious residents of the square. You could likely be transported for such audacity. Feeling therefore a little daring, Matilda looked about herself to ensure she was alone, before crouching down and trailing her fingers in the water.

It was deliciously cool. She sighed with pleasure and dabbed her damp fingers against her cheeks, which were still flushed from her outburst in the coach. Matilda sighed and allowed a few drops to trail down her neck, shivering a little as one slid into her décolletage.

“Miss Hunt. I would say what a surprise to find you here alone, but… that seems to be our destiny, does it not?”

Matilda whirled about, standing so quickly that she stumbled. A strong hand grasped her waist, steadying her. Horrified, she found herself face to face with the Marquess of Montagu.