Page 53 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“Hopefully, in addition to marrying off Lord Davenport, we shall be able to shed some light on the mystery behind Lady X.”
Good heavens! She had forgotten about that! The mysterious Lady X was far more important than whomever her secret suitor turned out to be. Perhaps this jaunt into the countryside was precisely what she needed to put her mind back on what was important. Lady X, the Ladies of Virtue, and finding a way to reform Fletcher from his lust-filled life. She still hadn’t figured that one out considering he’d disproved her theory. But at least his behavior was currently on hiatus while courting her, so in a way she had accomplished her task.
“What has your mother said about Lord Davenport’s intentions? I know she is close with his mother,” Agnes said.
“She understands my wanting to marry for love. But I think she’s secretly hoping I’ll say yes to him.” Harriet rolled her eyes.
Not for the first time in their friendship, Agnes found herself wishing her mother was half the parent Harriet’s mother was. Agnes snorted.
“What?”
Agnes shook her head. “I find it amusing that your mother gives you heartfelt advice such as that, meanwhile mine recently told me I should feel free to marry Sullivan and have an affair with Fletcher on the side.”
Harriet’s mouth opened and closed several times. “She actually said those words to you?”
“Come now, Harriet, it’s not all that surprising. Everyone knows the truth about her. It is not as if she goes to any great lengths to hide the fact that she has lovers.”
“I know it’s embarrassing for you.”
Agnes nodded and was quiet for several moments. “What if I’m more like her than I care to admit?”
“Oh, Agnes, you know that’s not true.”
“I don’t know that. I know I’ve allowed Fletcher to take liberties with me I never would have imagined doing.”
Harriet’s eyes grew round.
“I know if given the chance, I’d likely allow him to do much more.” She dropped her head down. “He makes me feel. So much. When I’m with him, it is as if everything is funnier, everything is more intense. But I cannot afford to lose myself in him.”
She hadn’t seen or heard from Fletcher in two days. Nothing since he’d called her friends in to a meeting to help identify her secret suitor. At that meeting, they hadn’t gotten a chance to speak alone so they’d had no actual interaction since he’d introduced her body to pleasure. Her skin still tingled, but now her heart felt heavy. Had she done something wrong? It seemed she’d pushed Fletcher away with her wanton behavior. Perhaps he had lost interest in her for some reason she couldn’t fathom. There was much about the pleasures of the flesh she simply didn’t understand. How could she hope to please a man such as Fletcher until she did?
So again, she lay awake in her bed, unable to shut off her mind and get any legitimate or restful sleep. She flipped herself over to try to get more comfortable, but it didn’t work.
Something tapped on her window, which was odd because her bedchamber was on the second floor. There it was again. And again.
She tossed back the covers and padded her way to the window. Fletcher stood below tossing up pebbles. She opened the window and leaned out a bit.
“Fletcher,” she whispered. Her heart began to thunder. What on earth was he doing here?
“I need to speak with you.”
“Gardens. I’ll unlock the gate.” She pointed to the right of her house so that he’d go around. She’d simply meet him outside. She wrapped her dressing gown around her, then slipped out of her bedchamber, silently closing the door behind her. Had he come to complete his seduction of her? The thundering of her heart was accompanied by a jolt of lightning to her senses. But when she opened the gate and took in his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, her heart stuttered. She cupped his face. “Fletcher?”
“My father died.”
She pulled him into her arms and held him against her. He smelled faintly of liquor. She grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together and pulled him farther into the gardens. There was a patch in the darkest corner, where the gardeners never could get much to grow. Now it was covered in soft, thick grass. She pulled him down with her and they lay back and looked up at the stars.
“When I was a child, I used to lay out in the fields behind our country house and watch the stars. I always found it calming and it oddly made me feel less lonely,” she said.
They were quiet for several moments, merely lying next to each other, their hands linked together.
“I don’t even know why I’m upset,” he said. “We were never close. I don’t even have many memories of us living in the same house. After Jefferson was born, Mother got with child shortly thereafter.” He shook his head. “She and that baby didn’t survive the birth. Father sent us here to London to live with Grandfather.”
“That doesn’t matter, he was still your father. Grief does not need to be reconciled.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
She wished she knew the right thing to say or do to ease his pain. She’d never lost anyone close to her. “I do know what it’s like to not feel particularly close to your parents. My mother sees me as nothing more than a rival. As a child, the only times I ever saw her was when they’d have parties at the country house. She’d be so attentive and doting and I’d feel so loved. Then she’d leave with the guests. It took me coming here to realize those times had only been a performance for her. Pretending to be a loving mother. It’s not that she doesn’t care for me, she simply doesn’t know how to love. At least anyone but herself.”
