Page 26 of Dare it all for Love

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Aisling Baxter (daughter of Luke and Kitty Baxter, The Earl and Countess of Trevick) to Mr Ashton Anson and Miss Vivien Anson (son and daughter of Aashini and Silas Anson, Viscountess and Viscount Cavendish)

Still the 15th of August 1839, Holbrook House, Sussex.

Florence sank into the hot bath with a sigh of relief. She’d never been so cold in her life. After a stop at the inn on Saint’s Hill whilst the storm rumbled about menacingly for another hour, they returned to Holbrook without further incident. She knew Henry’s sister had persuaded him to stay the night instead of riding the extra distance home though she was surprised he’d agreed to it. No doubt he wanted to run away from her. After what had happened, Florence didn’t doubt Henry would go back to ignoring her and staying as far from her as possible. How depressing. She did not know what to do about him.

On the one hand, if he did not want her, she ought to respect his wishes and keep away. On the other, the foolish man clearly did want her, he was just held in check by the events of his past, events that would keep him chained to a lonely future if she didn’t set him free. Surely, she ought to help him past that, even—and this thought made her swallow hard—even if it only freed him to find someone else. Not that she was going to hand him over without a fight.

Florence closed her eyes and sighed as she remembered the muddle of sensations being in his arms had provoked. Good heavens, but the man could kiss. It had not been her first kiss. When Mr Yates had been courting her, she had allowed him to kiss her. It seemed foolish not to kiss a man one was contemplating marrying. It had been one of the many things that had disappointed her about him. At first, she had believed he was as inexperienced as she and thought perhaps they just needed practise. It quickly became apparent he cared little for her pleasure, though, too intent on taking what he wanted and groping what parts of her he might in the brief moments she had endured it. His kiss had been wet and hard and unsettling, and not in a good way. Kissing Henry had been nothing like that. Though he had taken control, demanded more and more, it had never felt as if he was overpowering her, only asking her to meet him, to follow where he led. His kiss had been challenging, yes, but it had also been tender, his hands had been careful, holding her as if she meant something, like she was precious.

Florence sighed, aware of a restless simmer beneath her skin, of the need to be with him, to feel the weight of his body upon hers. He was so big and capable and… she groaned and rested her head on her knees. Henry Stanhope, I will make you pay for this insanity, for kissing me and giving me a taste of what we could have and making me want to act like a lunatic.

That first taste of him had been intoxicating, and it would never be enough.

“Something must be done about Henry,” Harriet said, her brow crinkled endearingly as she pushed her spectacles up her nose. “I fear he is determined to live the rest of his days a bachelor. I shall have to think who else we can invite who would make him a good wife, though he didn’t take the slightest notice of the eligible women I invited for him.”

Jasper, Earl of St Clair, regarded his wife with amusement, only a little surprised that the disturbingly prescient woman had not noticed the obvious.

“Didn’t he, dear?” Matilda said with an enquiring lift of one eyebrow that was far too nonchalant.

Ah, someone had noticed, and he could hardly be surprised if it was the Marchioness of Montagu. Matilda had been the mother hen of their group of Peculiar Ladies, and the one responsible for many of the matchmaking schemes that had found the close-knit group of friends happily married. Harriet, never usually slow on the uptake, frowned at her friend.

“Who?” she demanded.

Matilda pursed her lips.

“Well,” she began cautiously. “It wasn’t someone you invited for him, but… but I felt perhaps there was someone who captured his attention.”

Jasper grinned as Matilda glanced up at him.

“You’ve noticed it too,” Harriet accused him. “Oh, Jasper, you never said!”

“Didn’t feel I could, Harry, my love. The poor devil is fighting it tooth and nail and… well, to be honest, I wasn’t certain how you’d feel about it.”

“Why are you both talking in riddles?” Harriet exclaimed, she let out a breath, staring from one to the other of them as though she could see into their brains if she looked hard enough. “Why would I not be pleased if someone here has captured his attention? But, wait… Matilda, you said I didn’t invite the woman for him, so…?”

Jasper poured himself a drink and sat down, amused as he watched his wife’s astonishing brain at work. The trouble was, as clever as she was, affairs of the heart were really not her forte.

“Well?” he pressed, seeing Matilda fighting not to laugh at Harriet’s frustration.

“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed irritably. It was an answer that never failed to make her wild with frustration.

“Put her out of her misery, for heaven’s sake,” Jasper advised Matilda.

“Well, my dear. I cannot help but think he has feelings for Florence Knight.”

Harriet stared at them both and then gave an exasperated huff of irritation. “Don’t tease. Though I cannot fathom why, he doesn’t even seem to like poor Florence much. For heaven’s sake, he had to apologise for being so rude to her the other day. That hardly seems like….” She broke off as Jasper exchanged a glance with Matilda. “What?”

“He’s annoyed with her because she provokes him,” Matilda said, keeping her voice gentle. “She’s made no secret of her interest in him. Indeed, Florence is a single-minded young woman, and she has set her sights on your brother. She’s beautiful and eligible and very clever, and poor Henry knows he’s in trouble. He feels trapped and so he’s come out fighting.”

Harriet gaped, before turning back to Jasper for confirmation who nodded.

“He’s afraid he’s too old for her, but I think he’s also terrified of getting hurt again.”

“Florence,” Harriet said in wonder, shaking her head. “I never would have guessed.”

Jasper made a sound of affectionate amusement. “My darling, I was hopelessly in love with you for years and you never suspected a thing. You must admit it’s not your strong suit.”

The look Harriet gave him was filled with such aching regret that he wished he’d not said it.