Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(25)

Now she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She’d been trying to enjoy the conservatory. She had enjoyed the food, although it was gone far too quickly. Evan hadn’t eaten more than one slice of cheese and kept putting them on her plate, as well as refilling her wine glass. Surrounded by the vegetation and the misted windows it was as though they were alone in their own Garden of Eden. And she was enjoying him, his arm around her shoulders, the play of his fingertips on her arm, and the warm indulgent smiles he gave her.

She didn’t normally like to be touched, but his touch…was gentle, warm, and soothing at the same time left her tingling. A hunger that wasn’t in her stomach was growing in her. But the yearning was such a strange sensation she didn’t know what to do with it.

“So what provoked the slap?” he asked startling her.

“I said that if I married Lord Farringate, my children would never have any hope of attaining his title. And I think his lordship wants my father’s estate to give to his second or third son.” She touched the bruise, surprised the skin was tender, yet. They’d had to cancel their plans the last two nights. She hadn’t had a ballroom supper to supplement the slice of bread and quart of water she was allowed per day. “But maybe I would be better off with Lord Farringate.”

He’d probably feed her more. She didn’t think she could take another year at home. Her control was fraying around the edges. She never knew when her mother would take exception to something she said or did.

“You’d be better off encouraging Hull.”

She pushed her lips together. Her sensation of floating came to an abrupt end as though she’d been swinging and someone cut the ropes, dumping her on the ground. Of course, Evan’s purpose was to teach her passion—no, to help her discover her passion because that would attract the right man to her. A titled gentleman, who could take her away from her parents’ house. Unfortunately, a man who wasn’t Evan. Somehow that thought was accompanied by a real pain in her chest.

A childhood memory rushed through her. “I used to enjoy swinging.”

“Did you?” He squeezed her shoulder. “Should I find a swing for our next excursion?”

He didn’t seem to mind her non sequitur. She was horrid, jumping around from thought to thought. It was no wonder, she couldn’t hold a sensible conversation with a man. And the idea of actually being on a swing and the rush in her stomach, the feeling of being out of control made her feel faintly giddy. Or perhaps she’d had too much wine. Or more likely his touch—because more and more it seemed to set off riots of butterflies in her stomach.

“No. I just was remembering something I enjoyed.” Stars, was he right in that she never experienced joy anymore? Pleasure had become incompatible with her existence. “I think I was happy most of the time when I was young.”

When had it changed? The answer came to her in a burst of clarity, which was surprising given the amount of wine she’d drunk.

“What things did you enjoy as a child?” Evan asked.

She answered without thinking too much. “Running about the gardens, picking flowers, riding my pony. The usual things, I suppose.”

Things had changed, after her mother’s bout with childbed fever. Susanah had been supposed to have a sibling. Her mother’s stomach had been big again, but as had happened many times after Susanah’s birth, her mother had miscarried. The baby had been too small to draw a breath. Her mother had been sick abed for weeks, and Susanah had run wild around the estate—well as wild as a nobleman’s daughter was allowed to be. She remembered it as the happiest time in her life—quite possibly because it was the last freedom she’d ever known.

“I don’t suppose my friend would grieve over the loss of a few blooms.”

It took a minute for her to register that he was talking about taking some of the hot house flowers. She shook her head. “I couldn’t take them home. So it wouldn’t make any sense to pluck any.”

“You know, my darling,” he leaned close. “Sometimes you have to do things just because you want to, not whether it makes sense or not.”

“Such as sneaking out of my house for lessons in passion only to find something that is within me?” she answered. Because really what had she learned? That she could enjoy a conversation more when her mother wasn’t watching and listening? That she could find topics other than the weather and asking after the health of her companion or his family? That she could fall into a rage when thwarted? Or perhaps that Evan hadn’t got rid of her at his first opportunity was the only surprising thing she’d learned.

She was being petty, so before he could address her acknowledgment of the futility of his lessons, she said. “I’m not picking any of the blooms here. I would be sad at having to discard them and knowing that I hastened their end.”

He stood and held out his hand. “Well, we should look at the flowers while we still have time.”

She put her hand in his and a frisson ran up her arm. “I don’t want this to ever end.”

“I don’t either,” he answered her softly.

As she stood the room swayed. How much wine had she drunk? Or was she merely tired?

Evan wrapped his arm around her waist and picked up the lantern. She leaned into him grateful for the support.

Her head cleared a bit as he led her down a gravel path.