Meg shook her head, and the pesky curls popped out again. She brushed them away once more. “No! Of course not. That would be a certain scandal.”
Lucy’s face flooded with relief. “My point entirely, dear.” She placed a hand over her heart and expelled her breath. “Where did you meet then?”
Meg’s cheeks heated. She’d been a complete fool that night, but she might as well out with it. Besides, the duchess had seen and heard plenty of scandalous things. Meg’s little story was probably not much in comparison. “I sent Hart a note. I asked him to meet me in the park next to Father’s house, after dark. I told my parents and my maid that my head ached and I intended to go to bed early. Instead I sneaked outside.”
Lucy gasped and squeezed Meg’s wrist this time.“Dear, that’s horribly unsafe. You could have been accosted, robbed, murdered even.”
Meg swallowed. “I know, but my parents live on the park and I asked Hart to meet me nearby. It truly wasn’t far, only next door, really. That’s why I thought…”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. She eyed Meg warily. “Thoughtwhat, dear?”
Meg closed her eyes and allowed the words to rush from her lips. “That’s why I thought he’d know who sent the note when I signed it only with my initials.”
“MT?” Lucy expelled her breath and rubbed the tip of her nose with two fingers. “Oh.” A moment ticked by. “Dear.”
“Oh yes,” Meg echoed. “I didn’t want to sign my name for fear someone would find the note and it would cause a scandal.”
Lucy poked at her curls with her finger. “Yes, asking a bachelor to meet you in the park at night isn’t exactly prudent for one’s reputation. Not that I am judging.”
Meg took a deep breath. “So there I was hiding in the dark, and…”
The memory struck Meg then, captured her, and she was back in the park next to her father’s house with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the night breeze, the smell of jasmine and freshly chopped grass surrounding her. Even though it was summer, it had been unusually cold that evening and she’d left home without her pelisse. She would never forget a moment of it.
“Are you there?” Hart’s familiar deep voice sounded through the hedge, a voice she’d memorized, a voice that never failed to send gooseflesh skittering up her arms.
“I’m here,” she’d breathed and for a moment, one heart-stoppingly wonderful moment, she’d pretended he was coming to meet her because they were lovers, affianced and unable to stay away from each other, eager to be in the other’s arms. So it had shocked her beyond measure when Hart had stepped behind the hedge where she was waiting, pulled her straight into his strong, warm, muscled arms, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss lasted for only a few moments but it might as well have been an hour. Hart’s firm lips molded hers to his and his tongue boldly pushed its way inside her mouth.
It must have been the tiny squeak of surprise or perhaps her taste, perhaps her height, but he soon knew his mistake. He pulled away. Setting her a respectable distance from him he said, “I beg your pardon.” His breathing sounded ragged.
“Hart?” she’d murmured, knowing full well it was him. She knew him from his stance, his scent, his voice. Simultaneously, her heart sank as she realized he had thought he was meeting a lover. Just nother. Dear God, who did he think MT was? Jealousy flooded through her, but she didn’t have time to dwell upon the feeling because Hart immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her out under a beam of moonlight where he promptly exclaimed, “Meg!”
“Yes?”
He dropped her hand.
She rubbed her wrist where his fingers had been, longing for his touch again. “Who did you think I—?” She hated how small her voice sounded.
His eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, almost accusatory.
Tears sprang to her eyes and Meg swallowed. “I sent you a note.”
“Yousent—” He rubbed his palm across his forehead, mussing his black hair. His emerald eyes glowed in the moonlight. This was decidedlynothow she’d envisioned her first kiss, but ah, it had been with Hart as she’d always dreamed it would be. For goodness’ sake, if she’d known sending him an ambiguous note would result in a rendezvous in the park and a scorching kiss, she would have sent the note ages ago.
“Miss Timmons, I sincerely apologize for my untoward behavior. I didn’t know it was you.” Hart seemed nervous, which meant he was probably calculating the likelihood of her telling anyone about what had just happened, and his being dragged unceremoniously to the altar. Just like the Annabelle Cardiff disaster. Meg wanted him, of course, but notthatway.
“Don’t worry,” she hastened to assure him. “It’s my fault. I should have signed the note with my entire name.”
“Why did you send me a note in the first place?” His voice still had an edge to it.
“Because…” Suddenly she felt utterly silly. Suddenly she had no idea whether Hart would even agree with her that Sarah and Branford were an awful match. Suddenly Meg wished she’d never sent that note. Suddenly tears stung her eyes again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Her voice was embarrassingly high and tight. Oh, why did she always have to act like such a ninny in his presence? Why couldn’t she be calm, collected, sophisticated?
“It’s all right,” Hart replied. He stepped forward and rubbed her shoulders. The gooseflesh spread like wildfire. “You’re freezing.” He stepped back, pulled off hiscoat in one fluid motion, and slipped it around her shoulders. It was large, warm, and smelled like him. She sniffed it longingly, never wanting to let it go.
“Calm down,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Sarah.” Meg pulled the coat even tighter.
