Her hand rose, brushing a featherlight touch against his cheek, and David’s pulse jumped. His brows rose for a heartbeat before his thoughts grew foggy, and the surprise of what they were doing fading away. What started as a little touch of the lips deepened, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the feel of her. It wasn’t some swell of emotion that took over and stole away all reason and stoked the passion, but it felt so very natural.
Miss Leigh’s hand slid up around his neck; David felt the trembling of her fingertips as they brushed against the edge of his collar, and he felt like smiling, though that would’ve disrupted their kiss. His pulse slowed, growing in strength like the beat of a drum, pushing him further into the embrace.
For all that the situation had seemed strange, the feel of her in his arms felt right. Proper. Which was laughable, as they were doing something very improper at that very moment. Had David ever thought kissing Miss Leigh would be enjoyable, he would’ve indulged far sooner, but despite knowing that she was the lady in his arms, he still couldn’t believe Miss Leigh inspired such pleasure.
This was his friend.
Yet as David reveled in the feel of her, he couldn’t quite deny the frisson of awareness that ran down his spine. As pleasant as the kiss was—and it certainly was—it answered the question he’d been considering before the embrace. Miss Leigh was not his Mystery Lady.
Chapter 32
For all that Katherine had tried to forget the masquerade, one’s first kiss was impossible to erase from one’s memory. It invaded the quiet moments in her life (of which there were far too many) and haunted her dreams. And she’d given up hope that another would ever follow. Yet here they were, David and Katherine, wrapped in moonlight and each other's arms.
His embrace felt like home, as though they were two parts of a puzzle fitting snugly together. So perfectly. Katherine’s pulse quickened, and she gathered that pounding passion and poured it into her touch whilst her heart hummed with a silent prayer that he would see, he would feel, and he would know the truth. This was where she was meant to be. He had to know that. How could he not?
The kiss slowed, and David’s arms fell away, leaving her shuddering against the chill night air. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see a flash of disappointment in his. There and gone in a flash. Katherine wanted to ignore it. But she couldn’t.
Mr. Archer cleared his throat and fidgeted. “That most certainly paid my forfeits.”
Her jaw slackened, and she stared at him as everything within her stilled. The stone at her feet seeped into her, spreading through her body until everything was as hard as granite. If only her heart would stop beating, but the aching pain in her chest couldn’t be stopped.
The gentleman winced and scuffed the ground with the heel of his boot whilst rubbing at the back of his head. “I didn’t mean that to sound cavalier.”
Blinking, Katherine stared at him, her thoughts swirling about, trying to make sense of this moment. Surely there was some explanation. Mr. Archer stood there, awkwardly mumbling, and Katherine’s pathetic little heart tried to twist his stuttering words into something good. But she knew better.
Turning on her heel, she sped back to the house. Mr. Archer called after her, but that only made her move faster. The gentleman was quick enough to keep pace, but when he tried to step in front of her, she dodged around him. He babbled some nonsense, but it was a blur of sounds that made no impression on her.
Katherine swept through the side door, and though Mr. Archer was at her elbow, she wove through the crowd, forcing him to slow enough to avoid collisions with the other guests. And a little distance was all she required.
In one aspect of life, a wallflower and a rake shared a similar education, coming to know every private nook and cranny of the houses in the neighborhood—though they used that knowledge for very different purposes.
Dodging around a group of ladies, Katherine closed her ears to Mr. Archer’s call and slipped through a circle of gentlemen before darting behind a curtain. The Breadmores always kept them drawn during parties (to better display the expensive fabric, of course), and most assumed they hid only a straight pane of glass. To Katherine’s utter relief, the alcove was unoccupied.
Placing a hand to still the fabric as she slipped into the darkened place, she held her breath. She found it exceptionally difficult to do so, as her lungs were heaving. Her chin trembled, and she forced air in and held it. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she scowled at herself as the breath spasmed.
Katherine Leigh would not cry.
She would not.
Crying was something silly girls did when their hearts were broken because they were too foolish to accept reality. Katherine had learned long ago not to hope for a man to gaze upon her with longing, to whisper sweet nothings and declare his undying devotion. A lady like Katherine Leigh was too sensible for such flights of fancy. So, she was not crying.
Katherine huffed and swiped at her cheeks.
Leaning to the edge of the curtain, she peered out at the gathering and watched as Mr. Archer strode past, his gaze searching the crowd before he disappeared into it.
What had she expected? Mr. Archer to kiss her and suddenly look at her as a woman, rather than some chum who happened to wear dresses? That he would recognize his delectable Mystery Lady hidden behind his friend’s guise? That he would be seized with instant adoration for a plain spinster who was five years his senior? Theolder sisterin his life.
For all that Katherine thought herself a sensible creature, she was proving herself just as silly as Mama and all the other girls who allowed sentiment to dictate their behavior. She knew better than to hope for such a thing, so why was she upset when Mr. Archer proved the point?
Her breath shuddered, and she swiped at her cheeks once more as the image of his expression played out in her mind again and again. Disappointment? Was there anything worse a lady could see after an embrace?
Ripping her glasses from her nose, she tossed them onto the sill and covered her face with her hands before dropping onto the window seat. What had she been thinking? No doubt, he’d only been jesting and had intended to kiss her cheek or forehead or something equally innocuous, but she simply had to offer up her lips.
Had her good sense flown out the door?
Katherine lowered her hands and leaned against the glass, the cold seeping through the thin layer of cotton at her back. The chill in the alcove felt good against her flushed skin, though it did little to extinguish the fire burning through her.
What had she been thinking? But the answer was simple enough.
