All thoughts of Hudsyn, his uncle, and vengeance vanished from Jack’s mind. She became the sole object of his wants, needs, and desires. He took her face in his hands, leaned forward, and pressed his parted lips against hers.
Chapter Thirteen
When fierce conflicting passionsurge
The breast, where love is wont toglow,
What mind can stem the stormysurge
Which rolls the tide of humanwoe?
—Byron,Translation from the “Medea” Of Euripides
As soon ashe kissed her, Ottilie knew she would not return to her aunt’s home that evening. She didn’t want to be anywhere else but in Jack’s arms. Even if it were only temporary, she would not deny herself the pleasure of his company for a society that had condemned her parents.
“What do you want to do now?” Jack asked when the beginning of a summer shower started to drop from the sky. “I can take you back to Berkeley Square.”
“Not yet. I quarreled with my aunt, and I’m not ready to—”
He placed his index finger on her lips. “You don’t need to explain. I am happy you want to come with me. That’s all you need to say.”
The walk home took only five minutes, but seconds before they reached Half Moon Street, the summer sprinkle turned into a summer shower, and Ottilie arrived at Jack’s residence soaked through. She had no choice but to strip down to her chemise and drawers and cover herself with one of Jack’s long greatcoats. And although it reached to her ankles, she entered the parlor feeling somewhat exposed and rather foolish. But all her awkwardness melted away when she saw that Jack had laid out a makeshift picnic in front of the fireplace. Ottilie laid her wet items by the fire and seated herself on the blanket.
“Did Mrs. Wilson make all of this?” she asked, eyeing the thick meat sandwiches, fresh fruit, and beer.
“No, she has the evening off, so I made the sandwiches myself.”
“Did you? Well done.” Ottilie smiled. “I will need to send a note to my aunt, or she’ll worry.”
“What will you tell her?”
“That I’m visiting a friend from my days at Westminster Ladies’ College.”
“Will she believe you?”
“I don’t care. I’m neither her child nor her ward.”
He nodded. “The new housemaid can deliver it for you.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a new housekeeper. She shouldn’t walk about alone after dark, should she?
“Brandt hired her to help Mrs. Wilson. I didn’t know anything about it. Don’t worry; I’ll send her in the carriage.
Ottilie frowned. She’d never heard of a master of the house allowing his servants to hire help at will.
“Why are you frowning? Do you not like meat sandwiches?”
“I do, and these sandwiches smell delicious.”
“Good. Let’s eat then.”
Ottilie bit into the thickly sliced bread and salty beef. She was hungrier than she realized. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Jack washed his food down with a long sip of beer. Ottilie hesitated before picking up her cup. She had never drunk beer before.
“Try it,” Jack said. “You might find it bitter, but it will quench your thirst.”
She took a cautious sip. It tasted strong, but her throat was parched, so she drank until she’d slaked her thirst. She lowered her cup, and blinked, feeling somewhat lightheaded.
“Are you, all right?” Jack asked.
