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Chapter Ten
Trinity,
My dear sister, I must endeavor you to keep my confessions to you an utmost secret. Burn this letter if you have to, to keep mother from reading the terrible things her daughter has done. No, I am not ruined, but I must confess that I can understand how a girl might find herself in such a position.
The duke has been wonderful company, planning out romantic adventures of all sorts. The first day, we took an extensive tour of the gardens, including the orangery, where I enjoyed an orange plucked right from the tree. But as sweet at the fruit tasted, nothing was a sweet as the kiss he gave me in a secret nook of the garden. His kisses are nothing like the closed lip, chaste brushes with boys when we were children. He knows how to awaken desires within -
Yesterday, he took me on a horseback ride. Of course, I could not ride my own horse yet, so he sat behind me. If mother could have seen, she would have fainted. In the city, such proximity would be plastered over the papers. However, such freedoms are somehow allowed here, where prying eyes do not linger.
Worse yet, as we picnicked on a hill overlooking the estate, we shared such passionate kisses, one would think we were already married. I must confess, my dear sister, that I did desire much more. Yet, I have promised myself to hold him at bay for the rest of my stay here, to honor my duty and reputation such that at the end of the Season I might find a good husband.
Do not judge me too harshly, for I am not perfect. I know that the duke does not intend to marry me still and I will not let myself be made a fool. For where I thought perhaps, I could make him love me, perhaps marry me for real, I know that it is an impossibility. I will not forsake you or the other girls. I will do what is right by our family and remind the duke of his promise to help me secure an advantageous match.
Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.
Your tormented sister,
Lydia.
After penning her letter, she folded and sealed it quickly with wax, as though if she let it linger on her desk, someone might read it. Writing to Trinity admitting her improper feelings for the duke made her feel remorseful, but not embarrassed. She almost thought she should apologize to her sister for admitting her wicked thoughts, but not for the thoughts themselves.
Sitting back in her chair, she stared at the letter, contemplating whether she should shred it and start again. However, she and Trinity had always been close, sharing their most secret thoughts, not matter how unseemly.
So, she pressed it into the maid’s hands, asking her to post it immediately. Before she rose from the desk, though, she stared out into the garden for a moment, enjoying the scenery of the vibrant flowers and birds flitting in the hedges. Then, though, a figure broke through the shrubbery. She squinted, trying to make out the person as they drew closer to the lake.
With shocked realization, she recognized Michael as he was pulling his shirt over his head. She almost looked away, embarrassed to see his broad chest exposed to view, but when he reached to the waistband of his breeches, she dared not turn away.
He slid his pants from his thighs, stepping out of them. She had never seen a naked man in person, only in paintings. He looked stronger and more muscular than the paintings, and assuredly more realistic. Moreover, she had the vantage point to observe his manhood. When he dove under the water, though, his perfect form disappeared underneath the surface.
She found herself distracted watching him swim in the lake for a few moments, wondering if it was a regular habit of his. If it was, perhaps that was one of the reasons he had placed her in the rooms on that side of the manor.
The minutes passed and eventually he swam his way back to the shore. With water falling away from him, she imagined that the view she saw was what inspired artists who painted the tales of the Greek gods. He sat back on the grass near the shore, exposing himself to the sun. She felt a flush creep up her cheeks, imaging herself -
A noise in the hall reminded her that watching the naked duke was terribly improper. She stood, smoothing her dress as though it would smooth the desire in her. Taking a deep breath, she made her way down to the library. She had expected the library to be empty given the early hour, but when she pushed the door open, she found Joseph sitting in the chair she had occupied the morning before.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, starting to turn. “My apologies, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
He lowered his book and looked up at her earnestly. “No apologies needed, my lady, please come in and join me.”
She pressed through the door and entered the room, wondering what book to choose, not waiting to resume the place in the romantic novel she had chosen the previous day.
“Are you an avid reader?” Joseph asked.
“I am,” she said softly, turning to the bookshelf. She skimmed the titles on the spine, looking for something appropriately diverting to read in his company.
“What do you enjoy reading, mostly?”
“A good story, more than anything,” she explained, picking up an anthology of Greek fables.
“I am currently readingThe Man of Feelingby Henry MacKenzie. Are you familiar with it?”
She took a seat in a chair opposite Joseph, shaking her head.
“It’s the story of a man in his adventures. I’ve just reached the point now where he is being charitable with an inmate at Bedlam. It’s a most diverting story.”
“Perhaps I shall give it a try, eventually,” she told him politely as she opened her book.
“The Greek myths is an interesting choice.”
