So, yes. He could console himself with kisses. Hot, sweet, drugging kisses. The sort of kisses that made a man wish he did long for scurvy on the high seas or whatever else it took to keep her hands about his neck and her soft curves locked tight against him.
“Missed you at the Wicked Duke this week, old chap.” A vicar clapped Thad on the shoulder. “Weren’t you meant to debate with Barrett?”
Was he?
“Next time,” Thad said vaguely.
He could not recall having promised such a thing. For the past fortnight, he’d only accepted invitations if there was a chance of Priscilla being in attendance. Only women with little or no reputation stepped foot in the tavern.
Then again, Priscilla was far from the usual missish debutante. She was just as likely to burst into the Wicked Duke on the back of a camel as anything else. Perhaps he should give up on pleasure gardens at once, and see if she—
“Middleton,” called another friend. “Going to Tattersall’s tomorrow to see the new racehorses?”
“Doubtful,” he called back.
Unlike the Wicked Duke, Tattersall’s didn’t allow women at all, regardless of how tattered the reputation. He would stick to the places Priscilla was known to frequent.
Tonight, in any case, he had promised his cousin Diana to find her near the supper-boxes. The sun was setting, which meant she and her husband would be finishing their meal.
Thad did not hurry. The Colehavens would stay for the orchestra, and besides, the evening was too fine for barreling through it with one’s head pointed at the ground.
Vauxhall was his favorite pleasure garden, and one of the most crowded places in London. He loved to daydream about all the fascinating biographies passing by on all sides. Tightrope walkers, pie men, groundskeepers, flautists, royal footmen. He could write about someone new every day of the week without having to leave the park.
The indefatigable energy of the flower girls. A secret smile between a milkmaid and a vegetable vendor. The trysts unfolding in the infamous Dark Walk as the sun slipped out of sight.
If it weren’t for his social commitment with Diana, Thad would be just as happy to perch upon a bench with his pencil and a journal and scribble notes for the rest of the night.
Happier yet if he could catch a glimpse of Priscilla…
Try as he might, he could not keep her out of his mind for more than a moment. Their kiss was unforgettable, their letters grew funnier and more meaningful and intimate every time, and yet he knew better than to hope for a fairy-tale with her.
“Happy ever after” didn’t come to those who wished for it. It depended on fate, and theirs did not seem to be intertwined.
It hadn’t stopped him from dedicating an entire journal to her, of course. He captured every word he could remember, every feeling, every story. Even the ones she didn’t quite tell.
Her father and grandfather had chosen adventure over the women who loved them. Her mother had left in another way. Her grandmother was just as distant, despite never leaving home. Thad did not blame her for wanting different; for wanting better.
That these actions did not diminish Priscilla’s love for her family spoke all the more highly of her. Her love was pure and unconditional. Who could fail to admire a woman who could love like that?
“Middleton!” The Duke of Eastleigh and his new wife paused to greet him. “Please tell me you’re not avoiding the Wicked Duke because of Marsh’s ridiculous tiff over the new porter. He claims his is better than Cole’s.”
The tavern’s head brewer was always in a tiff over something. It had never stopped Thad from enjoying the libations.
“I’ve been busy,” he said, and changed the subject. “How are the plans for the circulating library?”
The duke and duchess exchanged a loving look. “We are busily accumulating the finest inventory,” Eastleigh answered.
Thad tried very hard not to be envious Eastleigh had beaten the odds and been reunited with his lost love. Could destiny be any more romantic than that?
He knew what that meant, of course.
Not Priscilla.
The worst possible choice would be someone who wanted something else, someone with one foot out the door, someone with better options.
His hands turned clammy at the familiar dread. The spark might be there, but so was the fear of making the same mistake his father had. The last thing Thad wanted was to fall in love with someone who would never be pleased she had married him… or never marry him at all.
He would be destroyed if he married the girl he adored only for her to fall out of love because he couldn’t be what she needed. That was not a road he was willing to travel. He tightened his jaw with determination.
