LATER
Peckishness snapping at her from an afternoon of seeing to Little Lady’s myriad needs, Artemis thought she would quickly nip into the drawing room for a light repast. Rake and Gemma had arranged afternoon tea as an informal affair, with guests encouraged to serve themselves from the buffet and to come and go as they pleased.
This room was, in fact, Somerton’s loveliest drawing room, with its grand wall of windows that overlooked the formal gardens that extended from the back of the house, leading the eye out to verdant hills dotted with puffy white sheep beyond the ha-ha. As the house was perched atop a slight rise, the view of both land and sky was magnificent.
When there was a sky worth beholding, that was, for a soggy blanket of clouds had descended upon the estate.
Not that Artemis minded all that much—or even noticed.
For though she walked on plush Aubusson carpets as she navigated the lavishly decorated room done in the Chinoiserie style so popular in the last century, she was, in truth, walking on air.
She had been for hours.
Even when picking burrs from Little Lady’s coat.
Even when combing muck from mane and tail.
Even when checking the little donkey’s teeth for spots of rot.
She touched fingertips to her mouth.
It still tingled.
And the exposed skin of her neck.
It did, too.
The kiss.
If the past could predict the future, then the kiss should have been expected.
Yet it hadn’t been.
In a large way, the kiss conjured a feeling of guilt.
Yes, Bran was the man he was now. But the man he had been … That man had suffered betrayal. Not directly from her—but because of her. And no matter that Mother had believed—and still did—she’d done right by her daughter, Bran had been wronged.
And Artemis couldn’t escape the feeling that she was wronging him again.
Yet this other part of her was able to put all those concerns aside and glide on air.
Was it possible that she could both have this last secret from their past and havehimin the present?
She considered the vast assortment of delicacies arranged on the buffet—meats, cheeses, scones, biscuits, cakes. She only meant to take a few items—a biscuit and a slice of Stilton—but soon found her plate stacked with one of everything.
Well, why not?
Heavy plate held before her, she glanced around the room. It was mostly empty, save for a few servants who were tidying up and awaiting her signal for tea service. Artemis’s gaze caught upon a female figure settled beside the best window, completely engrossed in the book she was reading.
Lady Gwyneth.
She considered finding a different spot on the opposite side of the room and leaving Lady Gwyneth undisturbed, but her feet had different ideas. The thing was, Artemis wanted to know Lady Gwyneth a little better.
“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, before taking a seat.
Lady Gwyneth’s golden eyes startled up and her smile promptly followed. “I would be delighted, Lady Artemis.”
Goodness, but Lady Gwyneth was a beauty, with her high cheekbones, rosebud mouth, and delicate skin. Further, the openness of her smile suggested she was a beauty within, too.
