did not kiss her as she had wished and on the whole
left her feeling less than warm. She replaced her brush on the table and slid
into bed. Laying her head on the pillow, she continued to ponder the
aftereffects of Fenton’s show of affection.
She closed her eyes, praying sleep would carry her into a
glorious dream filled with blissful embraces and smoldering kisses. Instead,
she lay awake with every indication sleep would not overtake her soon.
Larissa threw back the covers as a restless feeling urged her to
her feet. She needed answers to the questions that continued to plague her.
Donning her wrapper, Larissa left her room and went below stairs. She peered
into the library. There, facing the blazing hearth, sat Sir Randall.
“I do beg your pardon.” Larissa stood at the doorway. “Please
forgive my appearance.” She glanced down at herself and clutched the front of her
garment, holding it close.
The sight of her undress did not bother him. He had seen her this
way, and in far more intimate surroundings. Randall couldn’t help but think of
the night that threw them together. He then reminded himself he was to watch
out for her, not watch her.
“I fear I am having difficulty falling asleep. I thought I might
come down for something to read,” she said. She was reserved and shy, like the
Larissa he had once known, the young woman he knew before London. “As you are
here, perhaps I might speak to you a moment.”
“Why, yes of course,” he replied. What could possibly be of so
grave a matter? Larissa appeared agitated, a state Randall had not seen before.
He grew curious.
“I’m not sure how to go about this or if you are the correct
person I should approach on this matter.” She became very still.
“Please sit down,” he instructed. Larissa perched on the edge of
the sofa. “If this is such an unpleasant matter, why don’t you come directly to
the point then. ”
Larissa didn’t look disturbed as much as she seemed preoccupied.
She never looked up to meet his gaze. She sat silent for a moment before
starting. “I tried to persuade Lord Fenton to kiss me tonight.”
“What?” Randall shot forward, gripping the arms of his chair. How
would she allow that whey-faced cawker such
liberties?
“I find him quite agreeable,” she said in all honesty. “I thought
I might enjoy kissing him.”
“And you didn’t?” It almost pleased Randall to hear her admit it.
“But we never did kiss, not really. I had such hope for him.” She
sighed, disappointed. “He took me in his arms and … it wasn’t at all similar to
when you kissed me.”
Randall felt his eyes grow wide. “Is this what it’s all about,
then? Vauxhall Gardens? I must remind you that—”
“I thought that when a man kissed a woman it should feel—” She
still could not meet his gaze, and with good reason. Such an unseemly topic of
conversation between the sexes.
“Any real gentleman would not take advantage of a lady,” Randall
mumbled none too quietly.
“Nor would any lady put herself in that position if she did not
wish him to attempt such a maneuver.” Larissa did meet his eyes for a brief
moment. “If I am to understand correctly.”
“Exactly how many men have you gone about taking this action?”
Randall reeled in disbelief.
“It is not every gentleman. Aunt Ivy says that one must pick and
choose. So I have entertained many men during the early part of my Season and
decided that I would not have any of them.”
“Exactly—” He cleared his throat. “Exactly how many men have you
turned away?”
“A few,” she answered, then reconsidered. “Perhaps several more
than that.” Larissa caught her bottom lip with her teeth. She ticked off her
fingers, turning her eyes toward the ceiling in contemplation. “I should think
not more than ….”
“Good lord!” Randall sighed in exasperation and rubbed his now
throbbing forehead.
“I believe my standards must be quite high for me to find so many
men
left her feeling less than warm. She replaced her brush on the table and slid
into bed. Laying her head on the pillow, she continued to ponder the
aftereffects of Fenton’s show of affection.
She closed her eyes, praying sleep would carry her into a
glorious dream filled with blissful embraces and smoldering kisses. Instead,
she lay awake with every indication sleep would not overtake her soon.
Larissa threw back the covers as a restless feeling urged her to
her feet. She needed answers to the questions that continued to plague her.
Donning her wrapper, Larissa left her room and went below stairs. She peered
into the library. There, facing the blazing hearth, sat Sir Randall.
“I do beg your pardon.” Larissa stood at the doorway. “Please
forgive my appearance.” She glanced down at herself and clutched the front of her
garment, holding it close.
The sight of her undress did not bother him. He had seen her this
way, and in far more intimate surroundings. Randall couldn’t help but think of
the night that threw them together. He then reminded himself he was to watch
out for her, not watch her.
“I fear I am having difficulty falling asleep. I thought I might
come down for something to read,” she said. She was reserved and shy, like the
Larissa he had once known, the young woman he knew before London. “As you are
here, perhaps I might speak to you a moment.”
“Why, yes of course,” he replied. What could possibly be of so
grave a matter? Larissa appeared agitated, a state Randall had not seen before.
He grew curious.
“I’m not sure how to go about this or if you are the correct
person I should approach on this matter.” She became very still.
“Please sit down,” he instructed. Larissa perched on the edge of
the sofa. “If this is such an unpleasant matter, why don’t you come directly to
the point then. ”
Larissa didn’t look disturbed as much as she seemed preoccupied.
She never looked up to meet his gaze. She sat silent for a moment before
starting. “I tried to persuade Lord Fenton to kiss me tonight.”
“What?” Randall shot forward, gripping the arms of his chair. How
would she allow that whey-faced cawker such
liberties?
“I find him quite agreeable,” she said in all honesty. “I thought
I might enjoy kissing him.”
“And you didn’t?” It almost pleased Randall to hear her admit it.
“But we never did kiss, not really. I had such hope for him.” She
sighed, disappointed. “He took me in his arms and … it wasn’t at all similar to
when you kissed me.”
Randall felt his eyes grow wide. “Is this what it’s all about,
then? Vauxhall Gardens? I must remind you that—”
“I thought that when a man kissed a woman it should feel—” She
still could not meet his gaze, and with good reason. Such an unseemly topic of
conversation between the sexes.
“Any real gentleman would not take advantage of a lady,” Randall
mumbled none too quietly.
“Nor would any lady put herself in that position if she did not
wish him to attempt such a maneuver.” Larissa did meet his eyes for a brief
moment. “If I am to understand correctly.”
“Exactly how many men have you gone about taking this action?”
Randall reeled in disbelief.
“It is not every gentleman. Aunt Ivy says that one must pick and
choose. So I have entertained many men during the early part of my Season and
decided that I would not have any of them.”
“Exactly—” He cleared his throat. “Exactly how many men have you
turned away?”
“A few,” she answered, then reconsidered. “Perhaps several more
than that.” Larissa caught her bottom lip with her teeth. She ticked off her
fingers, turning her eyes toward the ceiling in contemplation. “I should think
not more than ….”
“Good lord!” Randall sighed in exasperation and rubbed his now
throbbing forehead.
“I believe my standards must be quite high for me to find so many
men
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