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She wanted to say it, but how could she admit that she had been jealous, that she had considered Giles to be hers, even then, when she had simply been a plain and awkward child? He would be appalled, embarrassed—and he would pity her. Or he would not believe she had no idea what she was doing. For a moment she wondered herself. Had it been unconscious spite? There was even less reason for telling him, if that was the case. Confession might be good for the soul, but she did not feel brave enough for that, it would be worse even than this guilt.
* * *
Giles watched the play of emotion on Laurel’s face. He suspected this was the first time since they had met again as adults that she was not guarding her expression. What could he see, besides a lovely woman dealing with some very unpleasant memories?
She had shown embarrassment and real shock when he had confessed about those erotic fantasies. And perhaps, just a little interest, although that might have been wishful thinking on the part of his masculine pride. There had been chagrin when she had realised that her fears about what she had overheard had been false and shame over the hornets’ nest she had stirred up as a result.
But he could understand her reaction, he realised, feeling almost a sense of shock at the crack in the little nugget of anger and resentment he had hugged to himself all those years. If he had been an unformed cub, then she had been younger still, a girl, innocent and idealistic. It was all forgivable and he realised he was already shedding the angry memories. No harm had come of it in the long term.
Or had it? He had been estranged from his father for years, years during which the Marquess had gambled away their fortunes on those poor investments. Portia had been distressed to the point where she had spent months shut away recovering her spirits and had then married Gray when she was just eighteen. He must have somehow made his peace with her on his third leave in England after he joined the army. Being Gray, he had said nothing about his courtship, nothing about his brief marriage, although Giles was certain it had not been a close and happy one. Would they have made a match of it if it hadn’t been for that awful summer afternoon and Gray’s sense of duty and honour, driving him to do what Giles had refused to contemplate? And he had let his own sense of betrayal and hurt fester inside him, damaging his memories of home and childhood.
But the past was the past and he was clear that Laurel had not intended harm. He could surely begin to court her without a qualm now they had cleared the air about this? She now understood what she had overheard, even though it had been outrageous of him to discuss it so frankly with her. He could forgive her for what, after all, had not been spite as he had thought, but instead shocked innocence and loyalty to her cousin. He could forgive himself, given time and thought. They could put it behind them now, but not before he made amends for his reaction on first knowing her again.
‘I was insulting yesterday morning. I apologise. I had never understood before why you did what you did. I had not realised I was holding on to so much anger still.’
Laurel tipped her head, the gesture that had first stirred recognition in him when they had met on the Downs, reminding him now that somewhere behind that lovely face and graceful figure lurked the strange, gawky, fiercely loyal child who had always haunted his footsteps growing up. He had kissed her on the hilltop in the sunlight amidst the lark’s song. His body stirred, remembering the cool scent of her, the warmth of her mouth, the flutter of her eyelashes, dark against a pale cheek.
‘You were shocked at seeing me again without warning,’ she said, apparently offering him the comfort of an excuse. A first, tentative flag of truce, perhaps. There was no smile. He supposed he was still not completely forgiven for any of it. ‘And perhaps you had never come to terms with leaving your home and the country like that, even if you enjoyed yourself in Portugal.’
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bsp; She tipped her head the other way, regarding him. Her eyes narrowed in thought and she touched the tip of her tongue to her lower lip. He felt his body tense, harden, and then he stopped worrying about inconvenient arousal as she added, ‘I assume you lost your virginity there soon enough?’
And I was worried about shocking her with the facts of life just now!
But then, they had always been able to talk directly about whatever was on their minds, except that once. ‘Yes. Soon enough.’
It had not been in Portugal. Both he and Gray had fled to London the morning after the confrontation, as far as they could go in that first instinctive dash to get away from Hampshire and the dire scenes they had left behind them. Both of them had been too young to cope with all those churning adult emotions, he could see that now. Gray had gone to his father and asked to join the army as an ensign, much to the Earl of Wickham’s delight, for the Graystones had always been a military family.
Giles had taken refuge with Cousin Theobald and found him preparing to go out to Portugal. Theo had never had much time for Giles’s father and it had been easy enough to persuade his cousin to take him along as an unofficial part of his entourage.
During that terrifying, exhilarating week of freedom in London he and Gray visited an exclusive and expensive brothel, escorted by Lord Wickham, who had no intention of allowing his heir go off to war without first learning something about the perils that awaited him away from the battlefield.
Giles hauled his mind back from that first enlightening experience and studied the woman who would be ensuring his future faithfulness if she would only consent to do the sensible thing and marry him.
‘Why have you never married? Surely you did not allow that overheard conversation to give you a fear of marital relations?’ he asked without considering, allowing his thoughts to continue to their logical conclusion. He had been puzzling about Lady Cary’s remark all morning. Why should Laurel not want to marry? Then he realised what he had spoken out loud.
Laurel surged to her feet in a flurry of skirts and parasol and outrage, all their fragile harmony destroyed. ‘Give me a fear? You arrogant man—as though I would allow two adolescent youths to influence my adult life. I certainly developed a distaste for having my father arrange my future. But Mama died and Papa remarried and Jamie was not happy, so I looked after him and then we lost Papa, so he needed me even more. It was very satisfying, seeing him grow up to be such a fine boy.’
‘It must have been,’ Giles agreed diplomatically, privately appalled. What had her family been about, allowing her to become, effectively, a governess? And it was no life for a lad either, tied to her apron strings. ‘What has happened to him now?’
‘Jamie has gone to be a midshipman,’ Laurel said with a smile that held both pride and heartbreak. ‘So I am now free to do what I want—not that I was not free before, of course—and I choose to come and live with my aunt. Stepmama and I are not particularly compatible.’
‘So this is not just a long visit? You are now Lady Cary’s companion?’
Lord, but she does need rescuing. A few weeks of Bath tedium and she will overcome any aversion to marriage.
But he did not have weeks, not if he was to be certain of her within the time limit.
‘Certainly not a paid companion. We will be living together on equal terms, as two independent ladies.’ Her chin was up, she met his enquiring gaze straight on.
‘But you had your London Season, of course?’ She certainly had the poise and finish of a lady, not a companion.
‘No.’ Laurel smoothed down her skirts, furled up her parasol. This time her evasion was obvious.
‘Why ever not?’
‘I saw no point. I was not looking for a husband.’
