“—and kissed you, and you don’t know who she was?”
He cleared his throat. “I... I didn’t recognize her,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “She obviously knew me, though. Knew Watson, too, because when I accused her of being paid by him?—”
“Youwhat?” she interrupted.
He immediately regretted his words. “I thought Watson was playing a trick on me. I thought he hired an actress as a sort of prank,” he explained.
“Well, that wasn’t very smart of you. Everyone knows Watson hasn’t a shilling to his name most days,” she countered.
“I was reminded of that by the young woman,” he murmured. “Which means she knows him,” he said thoughtfully. “But I’m still left wondering who she was.”
Madeline angled her head to one side. “How old is she?”
He shrugged. “Uh... not a matron. Not fresh out of the schoolroom, either. Mayhap... seven-and-twenty?” he guessed.
“Was she dressed well?”
Daniel winced. “If you can call examples of the current fashion ‘dressing well’, then yes, I suppose,” he hedged. “Big sleeves, bell skirt, jonquil muslin, white shawl... with lace edging,” he said, knowing she would press him for the details if he didn’t give them up front. “Straw hat, silk flowers on the brim.”
She grinned in delight. “You should write forThe Scotsman’ssociety page,” she teased, referring to Edinburgh’s weekly newspaper. “As you said, she has obviously met Mr. Watson. What else do you remember about her?”
Frowning, Daniel closed his eyes in an attempt to recall any other details about the woman who had haunted his dreams the night before. The memory of her brought back the new sensations of kissing and his body’s reaction to what she had done with her gloved hand.
The tart.
He had been so hard when he awoke in the middle of the night, he had been forced to take his member in hand, shocked that it took only a few seconds for the blessed release that finally allowed him to return to slumber—and more dreams about her.
“Lemons,” he murmured. “She smelled of lemons.”
Madeline sipped her tea before saying, “Most do these days, dear. It’s a popular scent for soaps and such.”
“From Derbyshire,” he added.
Her eyes widening at hearing this last, his mother grinned. “So... someone you knew from Brookshire Hall,” she guessed, referring to her parents’ estate. “We spent all our summers there when your father was off on all those building projects,” she added.
Daniel nodded. At the time, he had hated what his father did for his living, acting as a contractor for the various canal projects that allowed for goods to be shipped by water rather than by land. The jobs required he be gone for months at a time—the same months Daniel wasn’t off at Repton School—but his father had taught him a good deal about construction when he was home. Although Daniel could have easily worked in a building trade, he had opted for the other side of the business—designing the projects.
“A neighbor’s daughter, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “Surely I would recognize her,” he reasoned. “Not that I recall playing with any girls.”
She tittered softly. “Oh, but you did. You attracted them like bees to honey. Still do, I’m quite sure, you handsome beast.”
“Mother,” he scolded, knowing what she was really thinking. “I’m not going to court anyone, at least, not until I’ve saved enough to build a house on the outer edge of New Town.” He had already designed the villa, a two-story Gothic Revival structure with gardens on three sides and a carriage house and drive on the other. He had purchased the land as soon as he had enough blunt to do so, knowing it would continue to go up in price as Edinburgh expanded northward.
“I know, dear. Now, some girls grow up to appear much prettier than they were in their youth.” When he didn’t respond right away, she added, “Was she a servant’s daughter?”
He pretended to consider it, but thoughts of what it had been like to be kissed had him wishing the woman would make another appearance. Not at his office, though. Somewhereprivate. Somewhere they wouldn’t be seen. The botanic gardens in Inverleith Park, perhaps. Or maybe in one of those tiny squares in Old Town.
Perhaps she would accept his apology for having forgotten her, and he could prove his sincerity by kissing her. Or allowing her to kiss him.
“Did you sayjonquil?” Madeline asked suddenly.
Pulled from his reverie, Daniel nodded. “Uh, yes. The color of her gown.” The color of daffodils and lemons and the sun, if he could ever actually look at it when it was high in the sky.
Madeline’s expression of surprise slowly transformed into one of delight. “Oh, Daniel. How could you not recognize Isabella?”
Daniel blinked. And blinked again. “Isabella?” he repeated.
