“Oh, I’ll manage fine enough. I suspect I won’t lose it, and that’s a winning outcome.”
Again, that same exhale from the stranger who sounded similar to a laugh. Yet, not quite a laugh, as if he didn’t trust himself enough.
“If only I will be so lucky. I should plan on leaving soon to find a surgeon.”
Tilly leaned forward and held her hands out, desperate to keep this between her and the trees at Vauxhall. “Is it so bad as that?”
“Having a hole at the base of my head certainly isn’t great.”
She sat back and sighed. “I suppose not.”
“Tell me something you hate,” he asked.
“Hate? That’s a strong word… Wait, should we introduce ourselves?”
“Names would make this too real, and I am still half-convinced I am knocked unconscious at the base of that tree. I propose no names for now. The mystery is an intriguing novelty.”
She loved the way he spun his words. The formality was altogether endearing.
“Very well, something I hate...” Tilly was generally optimistic, despite growing up on the stages of Dublin, helping to care for her siblings after her father’s illness caused the family to lose their farm. “I dislike those who act kind but are the very opposite. Do you fall under that trap?”
The man gently shook his head, hissing as he turned his head left. She would never forgive herself if she seriously hurt him. She only wished for some space from Roger this evening. He had his eye on a new production and had made sure she was seen around Town this week. There was much to be gained by Matilda’s flawless reputation—mainly, benefactors for the theater.
She might have a house of her own that she shared with her family, and she might have money of her own, but none of that would protect her if the truth was ever released. And for five years now, she awoke every morning wondering if it had been revealed and went to bed every evening wondering if it would be the last day she had before London turned on her.
Because they would.
She was certain of it. And worse than losing their fickle appreciation, she feared losing Ethan and everything she had built for herself.
Women had lost everything for much less. Why would the world treat London’s favorite actress any differently?
“I hate parties,” he said, breaking up the silence. “Including this one. Would you like to leave?”
Tilly lifted his cravat pressed against her cut, then glanced back at the stranger. Her heart felt as if it were floating outside of her body. He was so…
Well, Tilly might be sunshine, but this man would be Hades at the gates of Hell looking none too pleased spring had arrived.
“Never mind.” He muttered something else under his breath, which she didn’t hear, before he continued, “It is forward of me assuming someone like you attended tonight’s party alone. I will take my leave and let you have a fun evening with your…”
Tilly pressed her lips together, attempting to stem the smile threatening to emerge. Should she let him sit there and spin a tale that wasn’t true? She had never been married, never been engaged. Roger had seen to that. “Friends,” she finished for him, pity winning out. “I came with friends tonight, though I am sure I am not missed.”
“That is their loss then, isn’t it?”
She lifted her nose, smirking. “But I suppose your gain.”
CHAPTER 2
Once, and only once, Henry had kissed a tavern maid in London after consuming one too many clarets. He hadn’t stepped foot in a tavern since, and more importantly, he hadn’t kissed another woman. It wasn’t as if the opportunity didn’t present itself, though it hadn’t often. It was more the fact that Henry didn’t concern himself with love.
Or women.
He hadn’t a clue what to do with women.
They were such confusing creatures. They would flirt and smile, and he didn’t know what to say next. And as for kissing, he was worried he was doing it wrong. And he preferred to be great at whatever he spent his time on.
No, there was a reason he preferred his law texts every evening—he was confident that his studying them would bring about a positive outcome. The law was black and white, and much like the way London society operated, women were gray.
And here he was, completely fascinated with the gorgeous stranger opposite him.
He was so far out of his depths, but when she smiled, he was sure he never wished to find land again.
She stood up and tugged at the knotted cravat around her wrist, frowning. “I apologize for the inconvenience. If you give me your address, I’ll make sure this is cleaned and returned to you.”
“No names, no addresses. I appreciate the thought, though.”
He removed her handkerchief from his wound and studied the bloody piece of embroidered linen. “I suspect you would like this back, however?”
She pursed her lips and swung her hips. Her emerald dress swished to the side like a church bell. “Well, I wouldn’t be against it, no.”
Henry slowly rose to his feet, groaning as the blood rushed to his head. She reached out, touching his arms with her fingertips, and the effect was all too dangerous. She stood almost eye to eye with him, only needing to tilt her head slightly to meet his heated stare. He must have hit his head harder than he originally thought because, as she swayed closer, all he could think about was what it would feel like if her lips pressed against his.
One kiss, that was all.
“Perhaps you should return to your friends and find a surgeon?”
That would be wise. Henry couldn’t explain it, however, but he didn’t wish to be parted from her.
