“I will think you made an excellent choice.”
He grinned then. Something split open in his chest. Maybe it was his heart shaking off years of cold and ice to accommodate this beguiling woman.
He didn’t have the slightest idea of kissing. And Henry was sure he was about to do it all wrong, but he also knew he had to kiss this woman.
Especially as she stepped up on her toes and dragged him closer by his jacket lapels. “Kiss me first, then take me away. For tonight, I wish to only be with you.”
Henry leaned down and pressed his mouth firmly to hers. But that didn’t feel right. So, he softened the pressure, tasting the champagne on her lips, light and tasting like pears and honey. He tilted his head, adjusting his approach, groaning as she returned his kiss in equal measure.
Kissing, it turns out, was not the end of the world. Nor was it a terrible pastime.
He enjoyed it.
And he wished to continue.
The mechanics of the act faded from his mind and whether he was doing it right or wrong, then he melted into the feel of her lips against his, the slight breath she would issue if he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, how she swayed against him as the rest of London seemingly swirled around them there in the dark.
She pulled back, resting her cheek against his for a moment. He swallowed, attempting to gather his thoughts which were spinning wildly about in his head. He tilted his face and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, and he thought she sighed once more.
“How was that?” Henry asked, clearing his throat. “I mean… was that pleasurable for you?”
The beautiful stranger gazed up at him, studying his eyes as if she were about to unlock a big mystery. “That was perfect.”
“Where shall we go?” He stepped away, offering his arm to escort her out into the dark September night.
She froze, glancing over her shoulder as the sound of angry shouts approached.
He stepped in front of her, searching her eyes, realizing only then he would need to step away, and they didn’t know one another’s names. This would be it. He had only met her and already, he was losing her.
“I want my money, and if you won’t pay me,” a voice said on the other side of the trees, “then I will challenge you to a duel. And I won’t be a gentleman about it. I never am when it comes to coin.”
He didn’t wish for whatever trouble was brewing to spill over and endanger the stranger. He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to the top. Damn gloves and all the other silly fripperies women must wear in public.
“I’m so sorry. This is not what I wanted,” he whispered. “I hope I will see you again.”
“Don’t go. Please.”
Footsteps and rustling leaves erupted. Any minute they would be discovered, and he wouldn’t risk her ruined.
“I must, sweet.” He sprinted toward the edge of the woods, leaving her there alone under the sycamore trees. “I must, and I wish so very much I didn’t have to. Meet me here next summer if you are able. A June evening. I will wait every night.”
She laughed, brushing at her cheeks with her gloves. “That is absurd. I am… I must wait until then? What if you can’t make it?”
“I give you my word. Next June. I will be here, waiting. We’ve only met, but I promise I will wait years for another evening with you.”
He jumped out back into the party, blinked at the lanterns hanging in the trees, and scanned the crowd for the men who were arguing. Wrong or right, there must be an answer besides a duel. And as usual, he would see justice served. Damn him and his logical mind.
He glanced back toward the woods, swallowing down the nerves that ricocheted inside his body, certain he had just lost a part of himself.
Tilly remained in the dark for a few moments, pressing her gloved hand against her lips, certain she had just experienced the most perfect kiss of her lifetime.
And he had just dashed back out toward the party to play knight-in-shining armor, and she was none too pleased about it. Chivalry was overrated.
She laughed to herself, curling her free arm around her middle. She would need to face her colleagues from the theater. They likely missed her, but she enjoyed fading into the background for a little while.
Tilly grew up on the stage in Dublin and didn’t know any different. And with seven brothers and sisters, her house was always a chaotic jumble of shouts and singing and dramatics.
She hadn’t known anything different, but she certainly was ready for a change.
London held women to such a high standard, and she worked hard to maintain that image. She realized just how quickly she could be tossed aside as London’s sweetheart and end up in the East End, or worse. She had real talent, and she wished to be recognized for it.
But if London discovered the truth, she would lose everything.
He would lose everything because of her mistake.
And she couldn’t stomach that. She couldn’t do that to Ethan.
She brushed back her hair, straightened her mask, and slipped back out into the party, watching everyone dance and laugh under the last glimmer of summer. The weather had been so agreeable that Vauxhall Garden was open uncharacteristically late for the season.
She would audition for a new role in the morning, one that would stretch her skills and certainly one that could cement her status in her social circles. She never wished to be just another actress, she wished to be Matilda Brennan who brought audiences to their feet with each performance. She wished to be appreciated by the critics of London. She wished to support herself and not rely on the strings that came with benefactors.
And she wished, most of all, that Roger would find another actress to swan about after because she was tired of him threatening to take everything away from her.
“Oh, there you are, Matilda.”
Her friend and fellow actress Betina Meyers swooped in, hooking her arm through Tilly’s. She was petite and curvy, and even when she wore her hair in blonde ringlets, she only stood to Tilly’s shoulders.
