A Little Bit Sinful(22)
Ella thought a minute. “I’m not certain it’s a solid argument, but I’ll let it pass. So how shall you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Kiss George?”
“Oh, right.” Clarissa considered her options for a moment. “Well, I suppose I could find a moment when we’re alone and do it then.”
“Tonight. At the ball. They have a fabulous garden. It would be the perfect place to sneak away and steal a kiss,” Ella said.
“How do you know all of this?”
Ella shrugged. “I listen to other people’s conversations. And, well, you know my mother is a terrible gossip.” She grabbed Clarissa’s hand. “Regretfully, it’s not because anyone has been stealing my kisses.”
Clarissa kissed her friend’s hand. “It’s only because they have not realized how wonderful you are. Someday, Ella, some man is going to come to his senses and steal all of your kisses.”
Chapter Five
That evening Clarissa had asked George to take her on a walk to see the famed Brookfield gardens. He’d been somewhat reluctant, but she told him that her brother was otherwise occupied and she certainly couldn’t walk there alone, so he’d agreed. As they walked quietly beside one another now Clarissa felt the nerves intensify in her stomach. She took a deep breath. She could do this. In all truth, her reputation should already be in tatters, so whatever happened tonight shouldn’t make her anxious at all. And now she had some experience. She’d kissed Justin. Twice. Certainly that counted for something.
“The weather is mild this evening,” George said.
“Yes. It’s rather nice, almost like springtime.”
They wove into the gardens that weren’t quite a maze, but were windier than a typical garden. And were she here to truly enjoy the botanicals, she would have been impressed. The garden was spectacular. The sweet scent of lilac wafted through the air. There must have been thousands of candles that lit the area around the garden, making it look more like the hideaway of a fairies rather than a garden in the midst of London. There was a slight chill in the air, and the breeze ruffled across her bare arms leaving gooseflesh in its wake. They reached the area filled with several different types of roses. Pink, white, red and yellow, the small blooms surrounded Clarissa and George, the flowers’ heady scent floated on the evening breeze. These roses were said to be Lord Brookfield’s passion.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“Indeed.”
“George. You know how favorably I see you.”
Favorably? That was how one spoke of their favorite soup, not the man they loved. She looked up into his handsome face. He still looked the same to her as he had always looked, yet something was different now. She knew that. But this was the man Rebecca had chosen for her, she certainly shouldn’t rely on her own choices. Those had almost always gotten her into trouble.
Ella had said George had not wanted to marry. George had told her, though, on more than one occasion, that if only he could marry her. He’d always said in a playful manner, which Clarissa had interpreted as genteel flirting. Had she misread his attention all this time?
His eyebrows rose and then he shook his head with a little grin.
She should say something else, but perhaps words weren’t the best indicator. She should kiss him.
Without thinking too much on the logistics of such an act, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her hands were splayed on his chest and her lips pressed against his. Initially, he didn’t react, didn’t kiss back, merely stood there. But then one arm slid around her waist, he pulled her abruptly to him and he kissed her, the way a man kissed a woman. The way Justin had kissed her.
Only something was different. Something was missing.
His lips were warm and there was definitely passion. Or perhaps urgency. He pressed himself against her. Something in the kiss shifted. She’d lost control and now George was kissing her. Really and truly kissing her. She should be pleased, but instead she felt something alarmingly akin to panic.
She pushed at his chest and took a step back. She was clearly not accomplished enough to feign worldliness.
His eyes had darkened and he merely stared at her. “Clarissa, my apologies. I don’t know what came over me,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.
Well, that hadn’t gone at all the way it was supposed to. And now she was left alone in the garden. Why had the kiss felt so different than Justin’s? Obviously she had done something horribly wrong.