Dorothea awoke slowly, warm and tucked beneath covers that weren’t her own. But the comfort they offered lured her back to snuggle into the pillow and take a few moments to let her mind wander over her adventures. Gen was similarly tucked in, breathing quietly.
She herself had slept well, even after some time spent wondering whether she had wanted Silas to kiss her last night, and if so, why? If anything completely true could be said about Lady Dorothea Langley, it was that she had never betrayed a moment’s interest in such matters as courting, romance, and especially kisses.
She’d allowed herself to experiment once or twice of course, but while the gentlemen involved had been polite and courteous, there’d been nothing to light a flame inside her. She refused to settle for less.
Well-read, and with a sound head on her shoulders when it came to matters of the heart, Thea believed that if that flame did little more than flicker, then that man was not for her. She’d held fast to that pledge until last night.
This unusual man, so straightforward, kind, sensible, and clearly well-educated, was indeed a delightful host. She could find no fault with his manners, his attitude to both his friend, herself, and a little girl...all demonstrated a nature she could not help finding charming and attractive.
Which she told herself was an evasion. Closing her eyes, she could see his face, the warmth in his gaze as he looked at her, really looked at her.
It hadn’t been a polite appraisal, she knew. There’d been far too many of those in her life already. No, this look, Silas’s face so intent on her, was real. Perhaps that was why she found it so alluring, to the point where if the table hadn’t been between them? Well, who knew what might have happened?
She sighed. Time to stop pretending. If the table hadn’t been there, she’d have been in his arms, and in all likelihood, enjoying every minute of it.
So why hadn’t she listened to her heart instead of her brain?
Habit. Training. A life of constant restrictions, rules, and regimentation, all neatly gilded and politely enforced, as if her very breaths required permission.
No wonder she’d felt stifled. And no wonder she had discovered she could indeed be attracted to a man. Away from the stuffy and elevated atmosphere of Renslow House, it would seem parts of her were budding in ways she’d never expected.
Would they flower? It might be interesting to find out.
With that thought tucked away for the moment, she slid from the bed and prepared for the day.
Her movements disturbed Gen, so after a brief good morning cuddle (and wasn’t that delightful?), they both engaged in the ritual of getting ready to face the day.
Both she and the child were in the same boat when it came to clothing, so Dorothea did her best to brush and smooth skirts, and blouses, make sure that little socks and longer stockings were snug, and that ribbons were tied into pretty bows.
Her own hair was annoying, so she simply brushed it smooth, piled it on top of her head and stuck her hairpins in it. She ignored the imagined shrieks of her maid.
“There now, Gen,” she said, straightening a curl on the little girl’s head. “We’re a pretty pair, aren’t we? So, I think it’s time to face the day. Remember your Mama is going to be here soon.”
“I’m so happy,” whispered Gen. “She really is coming, Miss Thea? She hasn’t forgotten me?”
“Of course not. She’s your mama, Gen. You see, when you’re a mama, you are not allowed to forget your daughter. It’s in the rule book for mothers.”
Gen giggled and took her hand. “You’re funny, Miss Thea. I don’t believe there is a rule book for Mamas, but I’m going to ask, anyway.”
“You do that, sweetheart. I’ll wager you’ll find I’m right.”
The murmur of voices made both woman and child look at each other and then at the door.
“She’s here...” breathed Gen. “Mama.”
“I believe you’re right,” answered Dorothea, her own heart speeding up at the knowledge of who would be with her. Would he be there? Would he look at her the same way as he did last night? And if he did, how the coggleblast was she to control these strangely exciting emotions...?
“Come on, Miss Thea,” Gen tugged at her hand.
“All right, sweetheart, let’s go and see your Mama.”
Dorothea opened the bedroom door, and Gen dashed past her, running flat out down the corridor towards the sound of voices, and the scent of food.
Following a little more slowly, she reached the doorway to hear cries of joy. Gen was wrapped around the legs of a lovely young woman, who was quietly crying as she sat on a chair. A cane rested beside her, and Dorothea could see an awkward foot twisted awry.
To her surprise, Hiram was bending over the chair and chatting with Gen, while handing her mother a large handkerchief.
Silas came to her side, and she could have sworn she felt his heat, but fought to keep her countenance as she turned and smiled at him. “There’s a lovely picture,” she murmured.
