“So you haven’t been madly in love with me for months?” he teased.
Of course, she had not.
“I just… I never intended… But. You seemed to understand. And… I just needed…” She stopped and cleared her throat.
“I did not take advantage of you, did I? Nor did you of me? It wasn’t a conscious decision by either of us. It was what you needed, and what I wanted.” He wasn’t about to allow her to continue berating herself for it.
She jerked her head to turn and stare at him. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” Had he not made this clear to her? “Just as I wanted to taste you yesterday.” And now that his mind was going in this direction, his breeches were feeling unusually tight.
“But we are supposed to deny ourselves.”
“Whose standards are you trying to live up to? If they are your own, that’s one thing. Someone else’s?” Mantis cocked a brow as he slid her a sideways glance. “Quite another.”
“They are inherent in society. A person who fails to live up to them ceases to belong.”
“So, as human beings, we adjust our behavior to reflect standards set up arbitrarily by a small group of individuals so as not to be rejected?”
“That group may be small, but it consists of the most wealthy and powerful individuals in England, perhaps in the entire world. And it also consists of my closest friends. Society… is my world.” Mantis wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him.
He was one of the last persons in the world to embark on a philosophical discussion willingly. And yet when he turned into the park, rather than drive toward the road that would be densely populated so he could show her off, he headed in the opposite direction and then drew the horses to a halt.
“And yet you risked all of that with me, in Westerley’s orangery. Why, Felicity?” He thought he knew. He’d thought it was simply because she’d felt dejected. But was it possible there was some other reason?
At first, it seemed she didn’t—or wouldn’t, rather—provide him with an answer. But just as he was about to turn the horses around, she did.
“Because I didn’t care about what society wanted anymore—not in that moment.” Her voice caught. “It betrayed me.”
It… “Westerley?”
But she was shaking her head.
“Your father?”
She shook her head more adamantly. “The… rules.Following the rulesbetrayed me.”
“And by being with me, you could… take your revenge? On the rules?”
“Yes.” She exhaled. “Maybe.”
Her ambiguous answer summoned Greys’ words of wisdom on the road from Westerley Crossings—that women often failed to say what they meant. “Sex with me was your way of lashing back at society,” he chuffed. It wasn’t a question.
“No!” Her hand covered his and she squeezed. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Neither had he. He refused to feel dejected.
“I cannot imagine I would have done… what we did… with any other person in the world. But it was you who took care of me. And because it was you, I was able to be utterly improper without worrying about...”
“About what?” Mantis held his breath.
She squirmed beside him.
“About…”Felicity closed her eyes, mortified at the dream she’d had the night before, and how it had made her feel when she woke up. “I’m not supposed to…”
“About what, Felicity?”
She dipped her chin and stared down at her hands, properly clasped in her lap, resting on her knees which were pressed together just as she’d been taught—with her ankles crossed and hidden in the material of her skirts.
