The Balls would soon be traveling to the country for Christmas, but the Beaumonts would spend the season in Town. As Kitty would like to do. Beneath all the social pleasantries, however, rippled her awareness of the coming night.
Thank heavens the party broke up at a reasonable time, so it was not yet half past ten when Kitty entered the hackney carriage with her husband. She was to sleep in his bed. Did that mean “stay there all night”? It must, when the alternative would be to slip back into bed with Henry.
“That was very pleasant,” she said, “Excellent company, though Torlie is a bit raw.”
“But mostly minds his manners well enough.”
“Do you think Canada should join with the Americans?”
“I refuse to even consider the question. How delightful that a turban is no impediment to kissing.”
His lips brushed against hers playfully and she responded in kind, already warm with desire. They deepened it together until she broke the kiss, flushed and breathless. “I’m sorry. I can’t be moderate. It’s been so long.”
“Since the night before last,” he pointed out, tracing her sensitized lips with a gloved finger.
She shifted on the hard leather seat. “Before then, I mean. And I confess... I’ve always had an appetite.”
“Which I appreciate. But unless we want to disgrace ourselves, we’d best wait.”
He lowered his hand, and she wove her fingers with his. “How do people survive forever without?”
“Are you asking about my mistresses?”
“Of course not!” Her protest was instinctive and not entirely truthful. She slid a look at him. “I wouldn’t mind knowing how many there have been.”
His smile reached his eyes. “Very few, if we’re being precise. Most have been more temporary partners—”
She put fingers over his lips. “Don’t. It’s none of my business. Though I would like to know....”
He pushed her fingers aside. “Yes?”
She asked the burning question. “Do you have a mistress now?”
“No. Why think that?”
“Your longing for Town. Ruth and Andrew assumed...”
He laughed. “Life as a clergyman must incline one to suspect the worst. Not that such an arrangement is the worst. But no, I don’t have a barque of frailty tucked away in a little house somewhere, awaiting my convenience.”
“I’m glad. It would be complicated.”
“I’m surprised you don’t feel more strongly than that.”
“I’d have no right, given our arrangement.”
“Not a trace of jealousy?”
“I didn’t speak of how I’d feel.” Kitty saw where he’d led her, the tricksy man.Sauce for the gander; sauce for the goose.“I was more aware of possible complications. She might have been a fashionable widow whom I’d meet at some event. A more beautiful and elegant woman than I. Heavens! I must have drunk too much.”
He kissed her. “I like it when your tongue is loosened into truth.”
“I wish yours was.”
So, suddenly, under the influence of wine, they were at a serious point.
“I’m a private person, Kitty. I’m not sure I can be otherwise, but I’ll try not to keep important matters from you.”
It might be the unimportant ones that matter.
