He hadn’t known she would be . . . delectable, even in her filthy state. Not that it mattered whether she was beautiful—her being female and unmarried was the problem. And him being an eligible bachelor.
Even if he had taken her to the home of a respectable matron—there were one or two living in the district, friends of his grandfather—then what? Respectable matrons gossiped with the best of them. The story would have inevitably spread and the scandal would have ruined her anyway.
It was a damnable mess, and his only hope of getting out of it without causing a major scandal was to get her back to London without anyone knowing.
It could be done. He’d managed several covert assignments in his army days. He’d smuggled people across borders and spirited them out of palaces and prisons. Getting Lady Lily Rutherford back into her home without incident or repercussions should be—would be—quite straightforward.
He pulled the blanket tighter and tried to sleep.
• • •
“You can blow the candle out now, thank you, Betty,” Lily said. Betty snuffed the candle and the room settled into darkness, the only light coming from the fire in the little sitting room; they’d left the door open for the warmth, though it wasn’t really cold. It was cozy, lying snug in bed, watching the glow of the coals.
After a few minutes, Betty said quietly, “He isn’t really your brother, is he, miss?”
Lily hesitated a moment. “No, but don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. Ma don’t think so, either, but she likes that he got me to sleep in here with you. Shows he’s a proper gent, she says.”
Lily smiled to herself. “He is.”
They lay in the darkness, the only sound the occasional crackle and hiss of the fire, and below them the murmur of men drinking in the taproom.
“He kissed you, didn’t he?” Betty said. “Just before Ma and me came in.”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. What was it like, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
Lily didn’t mind. Betty was no real substitute for her sister, Rose, but Lily was bursting to tell someone. She tried to think of how to describe the glorious sensation of kissing Edward, but before she could say anything, Betty added, “I been kissed a couple of times—not that I wanted it. The first time it was Hec, the stableboy—he just grabbed me one day, without no warning—and he’s ugly, miss, and old—forty or more—and his teeth are all black and broken. Ugh! It was horrible. I had to knee him in the you-know-whats to get away.”
“The you-know-whats?”
Betty explained the process with relish, and Lily recalled that Cal had once told her and Rose about a man’s most vulnerable place and how they could defend themselves if necessary. It seemed an age ago. In all the panic of her abduction, she’d forgotten.
“The second time,” Betty continued, “it was a feller who was just passing through, on his way to—I forget where. I sort of let him, coz I wanted to know what it felt like, and he was clean and youngish, with nice teeth and good clothes. And he was passing through, so it wouldn’t get all around the village and damage me good name.”
“And how was it?”
Betty snorted. “I reckon he’d had a bit too much of me Pa’s ale, coz it was all sloppy and mushy. Like kissing, oh, I dunno, a big warm snail. Ugh!” She laughed and Lily laughed with her.
There was a short silence, then a soft question came out of the darkness. “So what was it like for you tonight, miss—when Mr. Galbraith kissed you?”
“Bliss.” Lily sighed with happy remembrance. “Simply glorious.”
“Did he put his tongue in your mouth? I heard they do that, sometimes.”
Lily felt herself blush in the darkness. “Yes.”
There was a short silence. “Wasn’t it horrible?”
“Not at all. It was . . . wonderful.”
Betty considered that. “I wonder if I could get your Mr. Galbraith to kiss me—just so’s I know what it’s supposed to be like.”
Lily was shocked at the surge of jealousy that spiked through her. She said stiffly, “I think it’s only good with the right man.”
“I don’t s’pose he’d want to anyway, would he? Not after he’s kissed a lady like you.” Betty sighed gustily. “Trouble is, I’ve got a few fellers wanting to court me—the inn makes good money, and Pa’s made it known that when I marry I’ll come with a goodly sum—me marriage portion, I mean. And I like two of them fine, but not in any special way.”
“Have you thought of kissing each of them and comparing?” Lily suggested.
“Yes, but it’s risky, miss. I dunno what it’s like for ladies from London, but around here you let a feller kiss you and next thing the vicar is calling the banns. Or else your reputation is shot.”
“I see.” Lily pondered that. It wasn’t all that different in London, not for unmarried girls of good family. But kissing Edward was her secret, her very special, precious secret. Nobody in London need ever know.
A yawn surprised her. “We’d better get some sleep. It’s going to be a long journey tomorrow. Night, Betty.”
“Night, miss.”
Lily snuggled deeper into the bed, closed her eyes and relived every sensation of the kiss. Kisses.
He wanted her. She could feel it. It wasn’t just someone paying her an empty compliment. Edward desired her.
She’d been attracted to him from the first. Like all the other girls who’d flocked around him at Cal’s wedding reception, she’d been drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. She’d hung back, knowing a man like Edward Galbraith was completely out of her league.
But tonight he’d kissed her. On two separate, glorious occasions.
Oh, he’d claimed it was merely a case of passing lust—and maybe it was—but inside she was still tingling. And she was dazed. Dazzled. Delighted. She didn’t want to sleep, she wanted to dance and sing and twirl madly around. And kiss him again.
Edward Galbraith had kissed her, ordinary little Lily Rutherford.
Twice.
But even as she thrilled to the memory, guilt pierced her. She had no business
