Chapter Twelve
“Letitia, will you please slow down?”
“Why? What is there to slow down for?” Letitia shot the response over her shoulder as she marched down the path toward Ridlington. “I want to put as much distance between myself and that…that…”
“I understand,” panted Harriet. “But tripping over our feet or these roots isn’t going to assist matters one whit, so please walk more slowly. Have pity on me, at least.”
That did the trick. Letitia finally slowed from the gallop she’d started once reaching the bottom of the FitzArden Hall steps. Harriet had been convinced that she would break her neck if she wasn’t more careful—her descent over those slippery marble slabs was enough to turn a brave man pale as a ghost.
She had sent a fast prayer upward and then hurried after Letitia, wondering if she’d be able to pick up the bits when the inevitable disaster occurred. But fortunately for all, it didn’t, and Letitia reached the last stair safely, ignored the carriage and the two footmen and set off at a pace that made brisk look like a casual stroll.
Hence Harriet’s breathless pleas.
They were well into the forest, and as they slowed, the trees around them whispered softly. A few lingering raindrops pattered down, and the air thickened with the onset of some early evening fog.
Harriet walked beside Letitia in silence for a while, not sure how to approach this woman who had become her friend and confidante in such a short time.
Finally, Letitia spoke. “How could he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I had no idea…he’s never mentioned…”
“Well he wouldn’t, would he?” said Harriet reasonably. “A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things to a lady.”
Letitia snorted. “He’s no gentleman, then. And I suppose I’m no lady.”
“Of course you are. Just because that woman said what she said, doesn’t makeyouany less of a lady.”
“I know that,” snapped Letitia. “It wasn’t her. It wasus. Me and James.”
Harriet ignored the argumentative tone and thought about that for a few minutes. And light dawned. “While you were alone…” She left the comment hanging in the air.
Letitia came to a halt, and to her dismay Harriet caught the glisten of tears on her friend’s cheeks. “Oh Letitia, please. Don’t upset yourself.” She pulled out a handkerchief and passed it over. “Here, dry your tears and tell me what happened.”
“I’ve been a bloody fool, that’s what happened,” answered Letitia. She took the handkerchief, dried her eyes and then blew her nose. “I’ve been yet another victim of the typical Ridlington traditions. We cannot and should not care for anyone.”
She handed the handkerchief back to Harriet, who looked at it then carefully put it away in her pocket. “You have feelings for James, of course. And knowing he has a mistress…I’m sure that came as a shock.” Harriet tried to keep her voice level. This was not the time for an argument, it was the time for Letitia to sort out her emotions.
“IthoughtI had feelings for James,” she answered. “Especially after this afternoon. I asked him, Harriet. I asked him to help me with those feelings, those sensations that were apparently missing from my book.” She shook her head. “God knows why I did. It must have been the damn brandy.”
Harriet managed to repress a chuckle. “Don’t blame the drink, dear Letitia. I believe you wanted James to help you. It was a convenient excuse but not the reason for your actions.”
Letitia waved her hand airily. “Whatever the cause or the reason, it happened. He…well, he kissed me.”
“Ah.” Harriet let that sink in for a bit. “Was it a nice kiss?”
Letitia rounded on her. “Nice?Nice? A kiss on the hand is nice, a peck on the cheek is nice. This was…notniceat all. It was…” She struggled for words. “It was as if every sunrise and every sunset exploded around me at the same time.”
“Oh,my.”
“It was lips, but not just lips. It was teeth and tongues and hands and more.” Letitia’s voice broke. “It was wondrous, feeling him touch me, feeling his lips against my bare skin. My whole body ignited. I swear there were flames shooting deep and low inside…” her hand dropped absently to her stomach, pressing against her cloak.
Stopping her conversation, Letitia sighed, lowered her head and began to walk on.
Harriet followed, letting the air and the gentle forest sounds help calm the other woman. It seemed as if Mother Nature herself were offering comfort, delicate touches of moisture against their skin and tears of compassion falling on them now and again from the dying leaves of massive chestnut trees.
“Well,” said Letitia finally, lifting her head. “At least now I can edit my book and perhaps come close to what Lesley suggested.”
