As any regular reader of this column knows, there are two sects in London who shall forever remain in the utmost opposition: Ambitious Mamas and Determined Bachelors.
The Ambitious Mama has daughters of marriageable age. The Determined Bachelor does not want a wife. The crux of the conflict should be obvious to those with half a brain, or, in other words, approximately fifty percent of This Author’s readership.
This Author has not yet seen a guest list for Lady Bridgerton’s country house party, but informed sources indicate that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be gathering in Kent next week.
This surprises no one. Lady Bridgerton has never made a secret of her desire to see her sons favorably married. This sentiment has made her a favorite among the Ambitious Mama set, who despairingly view the Bridgerton brothers as the worst sort of Determined Bachelors.
If one is to trust the betting books, then at least one of the Bridgerton brothers shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.
As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.
Lady Bridgerton will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be— and to which brother she shall find herself married—ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 29 APRIL 1814
One week later, Anthony was in Kent—in his private suite of offices, to be precise—awaiting the start of his mother’s country house party.
He’d seen the guest list. There could be no doubt that his mother had
decided to host this party for one reason and one reason only: to get one of her sons married off, preferably him. Aubrey Hall, the ancestral seat of the Bridgertons, would be filled to the brim with eligible young ladies, each lovelier and more empty-headed than the last. To keep numbers even, Lady Bridgerton had had to invite a number of gentlemen, to be sure, but none were as wealthy or well connected as her own sons, save for the few who were married.
His mother, Anthony thought ruefully, had never been known for her subtlety. At least not when the well-being (her definition of well-being, that is) of her children was concerned.
He had not been surprised to see that an invitation had been extended to the Misses Sheffield. His mother had mentioned—several times—how much she liked Mrs. Sheffield. And he had been forced to listen to his mother’s “Good Parents Make Good Children” theory too many times not to know what that meant.
He’d actually felt a resigned sort of satisfaction upon the sight of Edwina’s name on the list. He was eager to propose to her and be done with it. He did feel a measure of uneasiness over what had happened with Kate, but there seemed little to be done now unless he wanted to go to the trouble of finding another prospective bride.
Which he did not. Once Anthony made a decision—in this case to finally get married—he saw no reason in courting delays. Procrastination was for those with a bit more time to live out their lives. Anthony might have avoided the parson’s mousetrap for nearly a decade, but now that he’d decided it was time for a bride, there seemed little sense in tarrying.
Marry, procreate, and die. Such was the life of a noble Englishman, even one whose father and uncle had not dropped unexpectedly dead at the ages of thirty- eight and thirty-four, respectively.
Clearly, all he could do at this point was to avoid Kate Sheffield. An apology would probably also be in order. It wouldn’t be easy, since the last thing he wanted to do was humble himself to that woman, but the whispers of his conscience had risen to a dull roar, and he knew she deserved the words, “I’m sorry.”
She probably deserved more, but Anthony was unwilling to contemplate
what that might be.
Not to mention that unless he went and spoke to her, she was likely to block a union between him and Edwina to her dying breath.
Now was clearly the time to take action. If there ever was aromantic spot for a proposal of marriage, Aubrey Hall was it. Built in the early 1700s of warm yellow stone, it sat comfortably on a wide green lawn, surrounded by sixty acres of parkland, a full ten of which were flowering gardens. Later in the summer the roses would be out, but now the grounds were carpeted with grape hyacinths and the brilliant tulips his mother had had imported from Holland.
Anthony gazed across the room and out the window, where ancient elms rose majestically around the house. They shaded the drive and, he liked to think, made the hall seem a bit more like it was a part of nature and a bit less like the typical country homes of the aristocracy—man-made monuments to wealth, position, and power. There were several ponds, a creek, and countless hills and hollows, each one with its own special memories of childhood.
And his father.
Anthony closed his eyes and exhaled. He loved coming home to Aubrey Hall, but the familiar sights and smells brought his father to mind with a clarity so vivid it was almost painful. Even now, nearly twelve years after Edmund Bridgerton’s death, Anthony still expected to see him come bounding around the corner, the smallest of the Bridgerton children screaming with delight as he rode on his father’s shoulders.
The image made Anthony grin. The child on the shoulders might be a boy or a girl; Edmund had never discriminated between his children when it came to horseplay. But no matter who held the coveted spot at the top of the world, they would surely be chased after by a nurse, insisting that they stop this nonsense at once, and that a child’s place was in the nursery and certainly not on her father’s shoulders.
“Oh, Father,” Anthony whispered, looking up at the portrait of Edmund that hung over the fireplace, “how on earth will I ever live up to your achievements?”
And surely that had to have been Edmund Bridgerton’s greatest achievement
—presiding over a family filled with love and laughter and everything that was
so often absent from aristocratic life.
Anthony turned away from his father’s portrait and crossed over to the window, watching the coaches pull up the drive. The afternoon had brought a steady stream of arrivals, and every conveyance seemed to carry yet another fresh-faced young lady, her eyes alight with happiness at having been gifted with an invitation to the Bridgerton house party.
Lady Bridgerton didn’t often elect to fill her country home with guests.
When she did, it was always the event of the season.
Although, truth be told, none of the Bridgertons spent much time at Aubrey Hall any longer. Anthony suspected that his mother suffered the same malady he did—memories of Edmund around every corner. The younger children had few memories of the place, having been raised primarily in London. They certainly didn’t recall the long hikes across fields, or the fishing, or the treehouse.
Hyacinth, who was now just eleven, had never even been held in her father’s arms. Anthony had tried to fill the gap as best as he could, but he knew he was a very pale comparison.
With a weary sigh, Anthony leaned heavily against the window frame, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to pour himself a drink. He was staring out over the lawn, his eyes focusing on absolutely nothing, when a carriage decidedly shabbier than the rest rolled down the drive. Not that there was anything shoddy about it; it was obviously well made and sturdy. But it lacked the gilded crests that graced the other carriages, and it seemed to bump along a tiny bit more than the rest, as if it weren’t quite well sprung enough for comfort.
This would be the Sheffields, Anthony realized. Everyone else on the guest list was in possession of a respectable fortune. Only the Sheffields would have had to hire a carriage for the season.
Sure enough, when one of the Bridgerton footmen, dressed in stylish powder-blue livery, leaped forward to open the door, out stepped Edwina Sheffield, looking a veritable vision in a pale yellow traveling dress and matching bonnet. Anthony was not close enough to see her face clearly, but it was easy enough to imagine. Her cheeks would be soft and pink, and her exquisite eyes would mirror the cloudless sky.
The next to emerge was Mrs. Sheffield. It was only when she took her place next to Edwina that he realized how closely they resembled one another. Both were charmingly graceful and petite, and as they spoke, he could see that they held themselves in the same manner. The tilt of the head was identical, as were their posture and stance.
Edwina would not outgrow her beauty. This would clearly be a good attribute in a wife, although—Anthony threw a rueful glance at his father’s portrait—he wasn’t likely to be around to watch her age.
Finally, Kate stepped down.
And Anthony realized he’d been holding his breath.
She didn’t move like the two other Sheffield women. They had been dainty, leaning on the footman, putting their hands in his with a graceful arch of the wrist.
Kate, on the other hand, practically hopped right down. She took the footman’s proffered arm, but she certainly didn’t appear to need his assistance. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she stood tall and lifted her face to gaze at the facade of Aubrey Hall. Everything about her was direct and straightforward, and Anthony had no doubt that if he were close enough to gaze into her eyes, he would find them utterly forthright.
Once she saw him, however, they would fill with disdain, and perhaps a touch of hatred as well.
Which was really all he deserved. A gentleman did not treat a lady as he had Kate Sheffield and expect her continued good favor.
Kate turned to her mother and sister and said something, causing Edwina to laugh and Mary to smile indulgently. Anthony realized he hadn’t had much opportunity to watch the three of them interact before. They were a true family, comfortable in each other’s presence, and there was a warmth one sensed in their faces when they conversed. It was especially fascinating since he knew that Mary and Kate were not blood relatives.
There were some bonds, he was coming to realize, that were stronger than those of blood. These were not bonds he had room for in his life.
Which was why, when he married, the face behind the veil would have to be Edwina Sheffield’s.
Kate had expected to be impressed by Aubrey Hall. She had not expected to be enchanted.
The house was smaller than she’d expected. Oh, it was still far, far larger than anything she’d ever had the honor to call home, but the country manor was not a hulking behemoth rising out of the landscape like a misplaced medieval castle.
Rather, Aubrey Hall seemed almost cozy. It seemed a bizarre word to use to describe a house with surely fifty rooms, but its fanciful turrets and crenellations almost made it seem like something out of a fairy story, especially with the late afternoon sun giving the yellow stone an almost reddish glow. There was nothing austere or imposing about Aubrey Hall, and Kate liked it immediately.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Edwina whispered.
Kate nodded. “Lovely enough to make a week spent in the company of that awful man almost bearable.”
Edwina laughed and Mary scolded, but even Mary could not resist an indulgent smile. But she did say, casting an eye to the footman, who had gone around the back of the coach to unload their luggage, “You should not say such things, Kate. One never knows who is listening, and it is unbecoming to speak thusly about our host.”
“Have no fear, he didn’t hear me,” Kate replied. “And besides, I thought Lady Bridgerton was our hostess. She did issue the invitation.”
“The viscount owns the house,” Mary returned.
“Very well,” Kate acceded, motioning to Aubrey Hall with a dramatic wave of her arm. “The moment I enter those hallowed halls, I shall be nothing but sweetness and light.”
Edwina snorted. “That will certainly be a sight to behold.”
Mary shot Kate a knowing look. “ ‘Sweetness and light’ applies to the gardens as well,” she said.
Kate just smiled. “Truly, Mary, I shall be on my best behavior. I promise.” “Just do your best to avoid the viscount.”
“I will,” Kate promised. As long as he does his best to avoid Edwina.
A footman appeared at their side, his arm sweeping toward the hall in a splendid arc. “If you will step inside,” he said, “Lady Bridgerton is eager to greet her guests.”
The three Sheffields immediately turned and made their way to the front door. As they mounted the shallow steps, however, Edwina turned to Kate with a mischievous grin and whispered, “Sweetness and light begins here, sister mine.”
“If we weren’t in public,” Kate returned, her voice equally hushed, “I might have to hit you.”
Lady Bridgerton was in the main hall when they stepped inside, and Kate could see the ribboned hems of walking dresses disappearing up the stairs as the previous carriage’s occupants made their way to their rooms.
“Mrs. Sheffield!” Lady Bridgerton called out, crossing over toward them. “How lovely to see you. And Miss Sheffield,” she added, turning to Kate, “I am so glad you were able to join us.”
“It was kind of you to invite us,” Kate replied. “And it is truly a pleasure to escape the city for a week.”
Lady Bridgerton smiled. “You are a country girl at heart, then?”
“I’m afraid so. London is exciting, and always worth a visit, but I do prefer the green fields and fresh air of the countryside.”
“My son is much the same way,” Lady Bridgerton said. “Oh, he spends his time in the city, but a mother knows the truth.”
“The viscount?” Kate asked doubtfully. He seemed such the consummate rake, and everyone knew a rake’s natural habitat was the city.
“Yes, Anthony. We lived here almost exclusively when he was a child. We
went to London during the season, of course, since I do love to attend parties and balls, but never for more than a few weeks. It was only after my husband passed away that we moved our primary residence to town.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kate murmured.
The viscountess turned to her with a wistful expression in her blue eyes. “That is very sweet of you. He has been gone for many years, but I do still miss him each and every day.”
Kate felt a lump forming in her throat. She remembered how well Mary and her father had loved each other, and she knew that she was in the presence of another woman who had experienced true love. And suddenly she felt so very sad. Because Mary had lost her husband and the viscountess had lost hers as well, and…
And maybe most of all because she would probably never know the bliss of true love herself.
“But we’re becoming so maudlin,” Lady Bridgerton suddenly said, smiling a little too brightly as she turned back to Mary, “and here I haven’t even met your other daughter.”
“Have you not?” Mary asked, her brow furrowing. “I suppose that must be true. Edwina was not able to attend your musicale.”
“I have, of course, seen you from afar,” Lady Bridgerton said to Edwina, bestowing upon her a dazzling smile.
Mary made the introductions, and Kate could not help but notice the appraising manner in which Lady Bridgerton regarded Edwina. There could be no doubt about it. She’d decided Edwina would make an excellent addition to her family.
After a few more moments of chitchat, Lady Bridgerton offered them tea while their bags were being delivered to their rooms, but they declined, as Mary was tired and wanted to lie down.
“As you wish,” Lady Bridgerton said, signaling to a housemaid. “I shall have Rose show you to your rooms. Dinner is at eight. Is there anything else I
may do for you before you retire?”
Mary and Edwina both shook their heads no, and Kate started to follow suit, but at the last minute she blurted out, “Actually, if I might ask you a question.”
Lady Bridgerton smiled warmly. “Of course.”
“I noticed when we arrived that you have extensive flower gardens. Might I explore them?”
“Then you are a gardener as well?” Lady Bridgerton inquired.
“Not a very good one,” Kate admitted, “but I do admire the hand of an expert.”
The viscountess blushed. “I should be honored if you explored the gardens.
They are my pride and joy. I don’t have much a hand in them now, but when Edmund was al—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “That is to say, when I spent more time here, I was always up to my elbows in dirt. It used to drive my mother positively mad.”
“And the gardener, too, I imagine,” Kate said.
Lady Bridgerton’s smile erupted into laughter. “Oh, indeed! He was a terrible sort. Always saying that the only thing women knew about flowers was how to accept them as a gift. But he had the greenest thumb you could ever imagine, so I learned to put up with him.”
“And he learned to put up with you?”
Lady Bridgerton smiled wickedly. “No, he never did, actually. But I didn’t let that stop me.”
Kate grinned, instinctively warming to the older woman.
“But don’t let me keep you any longer,” Lady Bridgerton said. “Let Rose take you up and get you settled in. And Miss Sheffield,” she said to Kate, “if you like, I should be happy to give you a tour of the gardens later in the week. I’m afraid I’m too busy greeting guests right now, but I would be delighted to make time for you at a later date.”
“I would like that, thank you,” Kate said, and then she and Mary and Edwina followed the maid up the stairs.
Anthony emerged from his position behind his ever-so-slightly ajar door and strode down the hall toward his mother. “Was that the Sheffields I saw you greeting?” he asked, even though he knew very well it was. But his offices were too far down the hall for him to have heard anything the quartet of women had actually said, so he decided that a brief interrogation was in order.
“Indeed it was,” Violet replied. “Such a lovely family, don’t you think?” Anthony just grunted.
“I’m so glad I invited them.”
Anthony said nothing, although he considered grunting again. “They were a last-minute addition to the guest list.”
“I didn’t realize,” he murmured.
Violet nodded. “I had to scrounge up three more gentlemen from the village to even the numbers.”
“So we may expect the vicar at supper this eve?”
“And his brother, who is visiting for a spell, and his son.” “Isn’t young John only sixteen?”
Violet shrugged. “I was desperate.”
Anthony pondered this. His mother was indeed desperate to have the Sheffields join the house party if it meant inviting a spotty-faced sixteen-year- old to supper. Not that she wouldn’t have invited him for a family meal; when not formally entertaining, the Bridgertons broke with accepted standards and had all the children eat in the dining room, regardless of age. Indeed, the first time Anthony had gone to visit a friend, he’d been shocked that he was expected to take his meals in the nursery.
But still, a house party was a house party, and even Violet Bridgerton did not allow children at the table.
“I understand you’ve made the acquaintance of both Sheffield girls,” Violet said.
Anthony nodded.
“I find them both delightful myself,” she continued. “They haven’t much in the way of fortune, but I’ve always maintained that when choosing a spouse, fortune is not as important as character, provided, of course, that one isn’t in desperate straits.”
“Which I,” Anthony drawled, “as I am sure you are about to point out, am not.”
Violet sniffed and shot him a haughty look. “I should not be so quick to mock me, my son. I merely point out the truth. You should be down on your hands and knees thanking your maker every day that you don’t have to marry an heiress. Most men don’t have the luxury of free will when it comes to marriage, you know.”
Anthony just smiled. “I should be thanking my maker? Or my mother?” “You are a beast.”
He clucked her gently under the chin. “A beast you raised.”
“And it wasn’t an easy task,” she muttered. “I can assure you of that.”
He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Have fun greeting your guests, Mother.”
She scowled at him, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Where are you going?” she asked as he started to move away.
“For a walk.” “Really?”
He turned around, a bit bewildered over her interest. “Yes, really. Is there a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” she replied. “Just that you haven’t taken a walk—for the simple sake of taking a walk—in ages.”
“I haven’t been in the country in ages,” he commented.
“True,” she conceded. “In that case, you should really head out to the flower gardens. The early species are just beginning to bloom, and it’s simply spectacular. Like nothing you can ever see in London.”
Anthony nodded. “I shall see you for supper.”
Violet beamed and waved him off, watching as he disappeared back into his offices, which wrapped around the corner of Aubrey Hall and had French doors leading out to the side lawn.
Her eldest son’s interest in the Sheffields was most intriguing. Now, if she could only figure out which Sheffield he was interested in….
About a quarter of an hour later, Anthony was out strolling through his mother’s flower gardens, enjoying the contradiction of the warm sun and the cool breeze, when he heard the light sound of a second set of footsteps on a nearby path. This piqued his curiosity. The guests were all settling in their rooms, and it was the gardener’s day off. Frankly, he’d been anticipating solitude.
He turned toward the direction of the footfall, moving silently until he reached the end of his path. He looked to the right, then to the left, and then he saw…
Her.
Why, he wondered, was he surprised?
Kate Sheffield, dressed in a pale lavender frock, blending in charmingly with the irises and grape hyacinths. She was standing beside a decorative wooden arch, which, later in the year, would be covered with climbing pink and white roses.
He watched her for a moment as she trailed her fingers along some fuzzy plant he could never remember the name of, then bent down to sniff at a Dutch tulip.
“They don’t have a scent,” he called out, slowly making his way toward her.
She straightened immediately, her entire body reacting before she’d turned to see him. He could tell she’d recognized his voice, which left him feeling rather oddly satisfied.
As he approached her side, he motioned to the brilliant red bloom and said, “They’re lovely and somewhat rare in an English garden, but alas, with no perfume.”
She waited longer to reply than he would have expected, then she said, “I’ve never seen a tulip before.”
Something about that made him smile. “Never?”
“Well, not in the ground,” she explained. “Edwina has received many bouquets, and the bulb flowers are quite the rage this time of year. But I’ve never actually seen one growing.”
“They are my mother’s favorite,” Anthony said, reaching down and plucking one. “That and hyacinths, of course.”
She smiled curiously. “Of course?” she echoed.
“My youngest sister is named Hyacinth,” he said, handing her the flower. “Or didn’t you know that?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t.”
“I see,” he murmured. “We are quite famously named in alphabetical order, from Anthony right down to Hyacinth. But then, perhaps I know a great deal more about you than you know of me.”
Kate’s eyes widened in surprise at his enigmatic statement, but all she said was, “That may very well be true.”
Anthony quirked a brow. “I’m shocked, Miss Sheffield. I had donned all my armor and was expecting you to return with, ‘I know quite enough.’ ”
Kate tried not to make a face at his imitation of her voice. But her expression was wry in the extreme as she said, “I promised Mary I would be on my best
behavior.”
Anthony let out a loud hoot of laughter.
“Strangely enough,” Kate muttered, “Edwina had a similar reaction.”
He leaned one hand against the arch, carefully avoiding the thorns on the climbing rose vine. “I find myself insanely curious as to what constitutes good behavior.”
She shrugged and fiddled with the tulip in her hand. “I expect I shall figure that out as I go along.”
“But you’re not supposed to argue with your host, correct?”
Kate shot him an arch look. “There was some debate over whether or not you qualify as our host, my lord. After all, the invitation was issued by your mother.”
“True,” he acceded, “but I do own the house.” “Yes,” she muttered, “Mary said as much.” He grinned. “This is killing you, isn’t it?” “Being nice to you?”
He nodded.
“It’s not the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
His expression changed slightly, as if he might be done teasing her. As if he might have something entirely different on his mind. “But it’s not the hardest thing, either, now, is it?” he murmured.
“I don’t like you, my lord,” she blurted out.
“No,” he said with an amused smile. “I didn’t think you did.”
Kate started to feel very strange, much like she had in his study, right before he’d kissed her. Her throat suddenly felt a bit tight, and her palms grew very warm. And her insides—well, there was really nothing to describe the tense,
prickly feeling that tightened through her abdomen. Instinctively, and perhaps out of self-preservation, she took a step back.
He looked amused, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She fiddled with the flower some more, then blurted out, “You shouldn’t have picked this.”
“You should have a tulip,” he said matter-of-factly. “It isn’t right that Edwina receives all the flowers.”
Kate’s stomach, already tense and prickly, did a little flip. “Nonetheless,” she managed to say, “your gardener will surely not appreciate the mutilation of his work.”
He smiled devilishly. “He’ll blame one of my younger siblings.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I should think less of you for such a ploy,” she said.
“But you don’t?”
She shook her head. “But then again, it’s not as if my opinion of you could sink very much lower.”
“Ouch.” He shook a finger at her. “I thought you were supposed to be on your best behavior.”
Kate looked around. “It doesn’t count if there is no one nearby to hear me, right?”
“I can hear you.”
“You certainly don’t count.”
His head dipped a little closer in her direction. “I should think I was the only
one who did.”
Kate said nothing, not wanting even to meet his eyes. Whenever she allowed herself one glimpse into those velvety depths, her stomach started flipping anew.
“Miss Sheffield?” he murmured.
She looked up. Big mistake. Her stomach flipped again. “Why did you seek me out?” she asked.
Anthony pushed off the wooden post and stood straight. “I didn’t, actually. I was just as surprised to see you as you were me.” Although, he thought acerbically, he shouldn’t have been. He should have realized his mother was up to something the moment she actually suggested where he take his walk.
But could she possibly be steering him to the wrong Miss Sheffield? Surely she wouldn’t choose Kate over Edwina as a prospective daughter-in-law.
“But now that I have found you,” he said, “I did have something I wanted to say.”
“Something you haven’t already said?” she quipped. “I can’t imagine.” He ignored her jibe. “I wanted to apologize.”
That got her attention. Her lips parted with shock, and her eyes grew round. “I beg your pardon?” she said. Anthony thought her voice sounded rather like a frog.
“I owe you an apology for my behavior the other night,” he said. “I treated you most rudely.”
“You’re apologizing for the kiss?” she asked, still looking rather dazed.
The kiss? He hadn’t even considered apologizing for the kiss. He’d never apologized for a kiss, never before kissed someone for whom an apology might be necessary. He’d actually been thinking more of the unpleasant things he’d said to her after the kiss. “Er, yes,” he lied, “the kiss. And for what I said, as well.”
“I see,” she murmured. “I didn’t think rakes apologized.”
His hand flexed, then made a tight fist. It was damned annoying, this habit of hers always to jump to conclusions about him. “This rake does,” he said in clipped tones.
She took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, steady exhale. “Then I accept your apology.”
“Excellent,” he said, offering his most winning smile. “May I escort you back to the house?”
She nodded. “But don’t think this means that I will suddenly change my mind about you and Edwina.”
“I would never dream of considering you so easily swayed,” he said, quite honestly.
She turned to him, her eyes startlingly direct, even for her. “The fact remains that you kissed me,” she said bluntly.
“And you kissed me,” he could not resist returning.
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “The fact remains,” she repeated determinedly, “that it happened. And should you marry Edwina— regardless of your reputation, which I do not consider inconsequential—”
“No,” he murmured, interrupting her with velvet soft tones, “I didn’t think you would.”
She glared at him. “Regardless of your reputation, it would always be between us. Once something happens, you can’t take it away.”
The devil in Anthony nearly compelled him to drawl the word, “It?” forcing her to repeat the words, “The kiss,” but instead he took pity on her and let it go. Besides, she had a good point. The kiss would always be between them. Even now, with her cheeks pinkened by embarrassment and her lips pursed with irritation, he found himself wondering how she’d feel if he pulled her into his arms, how she’d taste if he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue.
Would she smell like the garden? Or would that maddening scent of lilies and soap still cling to her skin?
Would she melt into his embrace? Or would she push him away and run for the house?
There was only one way to find out, and doing so would ruin his chances with Edwina forever.
But as Kate had pointed out, maybe marrying Edwina would bring with it far too many complications. It would not do to be lusting after one’s sister-in-law, after all.
Maybe the time had come to search out a new bride, tedious though the prospect may be.
Maybe the time was right to kiss Kate Sheffield again, here in the perfect beauty of Aubrey Hall’s gardens, with the flowers grazing their legs and the smell of lilac hanging in the air.
Maybe… Maybe…
