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Caroline sat and draped her arm along the edge of the bath. “Come here.”
Arabella nestled against her, resting her head against Caroline’s arm, cradled in the nook of her elbow. She lifted her legs and settled her thighs over Caroline’s. The warm water lapped at their skin, and all she wanted was to follow the trails it left on Caroline’s body with her tongue. Caroline pressed lazy kisses against the crown of her head and her temples, with one teasing kiss on the tip of her nose when she raised her head.
Instead of raindrops, now there were beads of sweat on her skin. When she glanced down at her chest, she saw that it was flushed and rosy from the heat. Fog steamed up her spectacles from the heat, and she tucked them to the side of the bath.
It was time to ask Caroline what she wanted. What she expected. Where this could go. But Arabella found herself faltering at questions about the future, so she sought refuge again in the past.
“When did you first know about yourself?” Arabella asked, moving closer against her.
“The cherry orchard,” Caroline said with a little smile. “I had never had a thought about a woman before that. But I did, many times, afterward.”
That was an unexpected pleasure, and Arabella sighed at the romance of it. “I’ve known since we were thirteen. It was always you, you know.”
Caroline kissed her forehead. “That is so sweet.”
She thought about what Maeve had said. If she wanted more than kisses, the key was honesty. She needed to tell Caroline the one secret that she had kept from her, except for the fact that she was in love with her. She didn’t have the courage for that secret yet.
She took a deep breath. “I was engaged during that year I spent in Bath.”
Caroline sat upright, dislodging Arabella’s head from against her arm. “Engaged!”
“I was too ashamed to tell anyone in Inverley, because I broke it off the week after I accepted the proposal.” She splashed at the surface of the water and decided to tell her everything. “My suitor was the gentleman that we met at the tea shop. Do you recall? He was the one who so rudely interrupted us?”
Caroline blinked. “Thatman? He is the one you were engaged to?”
Her tone was disapproving, and Arabella laughed. “He didn’t intend to be rude. He thought I would introduce him, but I was too shy to breathe a word. Mr. Worthington is a great artist. If there was any man who could compel me to marry him, it would be him. Being an artist’s wife would open so many doors, you know. If we had married, I may have gained some renown in Bath. I’ll never know for sure.”
Caroline drew Arabella close to her again. “Do you ever wish you had said yes?” she asked softly.
“I suppose sometimes I wonder what could have been,” she admitted. “But I knew I could never be happy with a man, so it wasn’t fair to marry. I was happy to return to Inverley and settle into spinsterhood.”
Caroline tipped her chin up and kissed her. “I am very glad that you returned. I missed you awfully that year.”
“I missed you too.”
* * *
Caroline had never guessed that Arabella had ever been engaged. The idea of it filled her with worry. A husband could give her so many opportunities that Caroline never could. If Arabella had entertained such a thing once, perhaps she would again now that Mr. Worthington was in town.
But then who was here with her in the baths now, the hot water coaxing sweat from her brow and confidences from her lips? At least for now, Caroline was the winner.
She had an armful of Arabella, but it wasn’t enough. The baths had been a good idea to warm up, but being in proximity to the sweet press of Arabella’s breasts in her wet shift had her priorities changing fast to finding them a bed.
“My house is empty,” she told Arabella. “Susan and Betsy are on an outing with Lady Margaret. Jacob is with Mr. Taylor. The boys are at the vicarage. Even the servants have the afternoon off today.”
“You finally have space for yourself,” Arabella said. “How wonderful!” Her lashes swept up, and Caroline saw the mischief in her eyes. “Is there time for a friend to visit?”
“You know more than most how much I value friendship. Certain friends may consider themselves as intimatethereas they ever were on Belvoir Lane, you know. I am aiming for a shocking lack of pomp and circumstance, much to Betsy’s wails to the contrary.”
This summer everything had gone head over heels with the reversal of fortune and popularity and now…this. Arabella was an anchor to her old life. If her new life overwhelmed her, there wasalways the comforting familiarity of Arabella’s smile. She could always remember where she came from when she was in Arabella’s arms.
It was an enormous relief.
But not as much a relief as it was to finally be in the privacy of her bedchamber with Arabella, and knowing that their desires were about to be fulfilled.
“You’re so beautiful,” Caroline said, and was startled to see Arabella scowl.
“I am not, and you know it,” she said. “How many times have I complained about my nose and my glasses and these cheeks?” She pinched her cheek and made a face.
