again. That kiss. It would stay with her forever and the memory of it would keep her warm in her little cottage in Cornwall. Lucy had never felt so vital, so… alive, bursting out of her skin with delight! She remembered how his body had felt, pressed up against her own. She remembered his hardness and a shiver rippled through her.
She had made the Earl of Hamersley – one of the most attractive, most desirable men on the market – hard ! His arousal had been unmistakable, a very tangible indication of the fact that he had wanted her. Her! Little Lucy Landon that no man had ever shown the slightest interest in. Here she was at the ripe old age of four and twenty and the most she had ever received was a chaste peck on the cheek from some daring young blade when she was just out of the schoolroom.
Well, that had been no chaste peck on the cheek! She had finally, truly been kissed. And it felt wonderful.
Shameful or not, Lucy could not help but feel a tiny sense of satisfaction and she chose to fasten her attention on that. It was a great deal better than thinking about anything more disturbing, such as why she found Hamersley so easy to talk to or why they had fallen – almost immediately – into such an comfortable sense of familiarity. It didn’t do to think about that because that was transitory. After the next few days she was unlikely to encounter Hamersley all that often so there was no point in thinking about him as anything other than… what?
A man who could make her blood sing with just one kiss. A man who, if the opportunity arose, she would allow to kiss her again because such opportunities were not likely to come her way again in life.
All she needed to remember was that men like Hamersley were never serious about anything, especially not women. She had lost count of the number of parties at which she had seen the earl misbehaving. He wasn’t a rake, exactly, but he certainly wasn’t the kind of man who could be depended on to behave well.
As for his interest in her, if it weren’t for the fact that he suspected she knew something of Lady Libertine, he would not have given her a second thought. The sensible thing to do, she reasoned, was to enjoy this small moment in time while she could and if that enjoyment meant kissing the Earl of Hamersley again, then so be it.
Having changed, Lucy met her mother coming out of Phoebe’s room next door. Lady Landon’s eyes ran over her daughter’s dress, obviously looking for a reason to snipe. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded crossly. ‘I wanted you to help your sister. Her wretched maid burnt her hand on the fire, stupid creature that she is. I told Jenny to help with Phoebe’s hair.’
Which explained why Jenny hadn’t been waiting for her. Lucy knew better than to ask if Phoebe’s maid Sally was all right. Her mother would not know and would care even less. ‘I went for a walk.’
‘Well I expect you to stay where I can find you,’ her mother said, as they began to descend the staircase. She was looking resplendent in red brocade, liberally trimmed with Flemish lace around the neck and the wide sleeves. ‘Having Hamersley here is a wondrous stroke of luck and I will not have you ruining things. Although really,’ Lady Landon’s voice softened, ‘how could the man not be charmed by my dear girl? I’m sure that he is interested. He seemed to pay her the most particular attention.’
Lucy wondered on what her mother was basing that assessment. Wishful thinking, perhaps? What would Mama say if she knew what her eldest child had been doing in the orchard? ‘Indeed.’
She felt her mother’s glance. They were almost at the bottom of the stairs, but Lady Landon’s hand shot out to fasten around Lucy’s wrist, her grip surprisingly painful. ‘Remember what I said!’ she hissed. ‘Do not ruin your sister’s chances of making an excellent match.’
Lucy looked at her mother, shocked. Lady Landon’s blue eyes were hard as stone, lips
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