“Kit?” I asked.
He swallowed. “Yes?”
“I don’t know what this is…”
His tongue darted out, dipping between his lips. “It’s ev?—”
“Kit,” a masculine voice called through the door, startling me. Our hands broke apart, and I pulled back, my knees smacking against the edge of the bed. “I’ve got your portmanteau out here.”
“Thank you,” Kit replied in a strangled tone, looking every bit as flustered as he sounded.
“Are you two almost finished cleaning up? Lizzie’s fussin’ to put supper on.”
“We’ll be right down.”
“I’ll let her know,” Mr. Earnshaw said.
“I need stockings.” I fled to my trunk to find them. “And my hair, it’s a mess.”
“All right,” he said, sighing. I didn’t turn to look at him, I couldn’t. But there was something heavy in his tone and it pressed against my chest. “I’ll dress in the boys’ room.”
I heard the creak of the door and thesniktof it latching into place again as I pulled out mismatched stockings. I pulled on another pair, knotting them around something else in my trunk before they came free.
They were white and silk, too rich for the dress and the situation, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as I raked them up my legs.
Faced with only one, still muddy, pair of boots, I had no other ideas but to clap them together out the window, knocking the worst of it off. I yanked those on with no care whatsoever and snagged the stocking with an audible rip.
I cursed under my breath at the sight of the hole. Unable to do anything else, I set about ignoring it.
I found Mrs. Earnshaw’s settee, tugged my half-dry curls into a severe knot at the back of my head and jabbing the few pins I’d managed to locate into my skull. It was only then that I allowed myself to take in the entire picture.
My cheeks and chest were flushed an unbecoming carmine shade. And my hair was stern and unapproachable. But my dress, anothertangibledress, was still a warm, inviting tan, with delicate pink roses dotted about to draw the gaze. It gathered in feminine pleats across the bust. The fabric was a sensible, soft—touchable—cotton. And I couldn’t take it off, couldn’t change it.
Not without Kit’s gentle hands, warm breath, and whispered words on my back.
Andthatwas out of the question.
Sixteen
EARNSHAW RESIDENCE—APRIL 11, 1817
KIT
I’d been possessed.It was the only explanation for the last five minutes.
I dragged my own clothing onto my body, then pulled on a waistcoat and cravat as well. My boots were worse for wear and I’d need to see if Sydney had any polish.
My chest still burned where Davina’s fingers had lingered. The impossible possibilities lingered in my head. Would it have been a kiss? A slap? Something else entirely? Davina never did what I expected.
It was no matter, because I didn’t know what those heart-shaped lips tasted like and I never would.
I strode downstairs, the presence of my nieces and nephews certain to shake me from this fog. At the foot, I found Maddie staring wide-eyed and awestruck at Rory. When she noticed me, she ran over to me and tugged at the leg of my trousers so I would lean down.
“Uncle Kit! She’s dressed like a boy!”
“I know.”
“That’s so amazing!”
