Page 20 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

“Yes. I wanted to let you know – for I do not know when I may be free to call upon you again. Likely well past summer’s end or longer. I did not wish to simply disappear without a word after…” he glanced around – after the initial moment, the maid had, seeing them sitting in a manner as appropriate, just talking, slipped away some distance to give their conversation privacy, “…last night’s events…”

She nodded.

“I am well, and I thank you again. For… everything…”

Did everything, he wondered, include his kisses? He hoped so.

He bowed where he sat.

“At your service, my Lady.”

She laughed lightly, and the sound was melodious, lifting his spirits just from hearing it.

“Truly, I was foolish, and you saved me. Pray, do not mention it again, for the fact that I was so foolish embarrasses me. But if there is anything which I might do for you, do not hesitate to ask, my Lord.” As he went to answer, the sound of a gong being rung came to them. She rose. “That will be summoning us to dinner, my Lord.”

He rose also, and sedately, they turned back to the house. But the memory of her fingers in his hair, of her breast beneath his hand, of the heat of her kisses, surrounded him. He would hold to that memory, in the months ahead, when embroiled in the business of inheritance.

~~~~~

Bea wondered that Ellie had not instantly been able to see the evidence of his kisses on her face, for she was sure that she was flushed, but he had managed to speak as if nothing remarkable had happened, and Ellie had apparently not suspected. Her heart was still racing as they walked in to dinner. And his words echoed in her mind. Now, he was to be a Marquess. Now, he was, therefore, to be even more above her, even more not a man for whom a woman dogged by gossip could ever be a suitable bride.

She should be thrilled for him, and she was, but inside, part of her was crying in misery. And now, she would not see him for months!

Dinner went past like a dream, with Lord Challoner conversing with Honour and James, and Bea barely speaking. Her thoughts would not stop replaying the kiss in the garden, and comparing it to Lord Walter’s horrible assault of the previous night. How a kiss could be so very different, she barely understood – but it was. What would she do, over summer? Would Lord Challoner forget about her, once he was gone to deal with more important things?

And… terrible thought… what would happen if she ever saw Lord Walter again?