But she was not just any girl. She was his best friend’s sister. And that friend knew exactly how long the cascade took and was waiting for them to return. ‘You have had far too much wine for us to take this conversation any further, my dear. But I promise you, once you have your money, we will find someone to give you all the kisses you could hope for.’
She seemed satisfied with that answer and linked her arm in his. ‘I will remember you have said that and hold you to it.’
He sincerely hoped she did not.
CHAPTER FIVE
In three days, they were ready to leave London. Thomas had his new life story memorised so well that he could say it back to front. Really, the background part was the only thing that was important. Tom Smith had not existed until he’d met Louisa. Their courtship had been simple, formal and pleasant with none of the folderol of the Season. They’d walked out together in public places like Hyde Park and Vauxhall. Her brother had approved his suit. He had proposed at a picnic…
Then, several things had happened in his imagination that he took care not to write down. He was sure that Percy and Lord Skeffington would not wish to know about them. Even his fiancée would be shocked at how quickly she had succumbed to his charms after she was assured of their impending marriage.
He could just as easily have imagined a chaste engagement with more visits to churches and book shops, and shared conversations about mundane topics that concluded with a kiss on the cheek or clasped hands. But that was not the future he wanted, so why would he give it to his imaginary self?
Perhaps that was why he was so disappointed with the girls who threw themselves at him in London. Whether they sought marriage or an offer of protection, they behaved with a singularity of purpose that put him off. They showed only the parts of themselves that they thought would attract him and hid the rest to be discovered when it was too late for him to get away.The opportunity to marry a peer, or at least be bedded by one, was far too important to risk incurring Thomas’s displeasure with their personal opinions or any flash of independent thought.
When he’d set about creating Tom Smith’s courtship of Louisa, he’d given him a woman who was eager to show him her true self, even in their first conversation. With each new meeting, they’d discovered mutual likes and dislikes, and even a few non-threatening differences.
Minutes after accepting his offer, she’d been naked—physically, spiritually and emotionally. She gave herself freely and enthusiastically, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for him alone, not caring whether he was prince or pauper.
She was a fantasy, of course. One he planned to save and enjoy on future evenings when he was alone with his thoughts. The fact that his dream woman wore the face of his best friend’s sister was awkward. Perhaps, with time, he could change her outward appearance to something less inappropriate. But some dark part of him wanted to leave her just as she was and take pleasure in the wickedness of it.
For a large part of his life, the only image of her he’d carried had been of a little girl staring at him from a bedroom window. He’d been fond of her, but it had been nothing more than that. When Percy had announced she was coming to London for her first Season, he’d been curious to see the woman that girl had become.
But there’d been no lust in his heart or head. She was his friend’s sister and, as such, should be out of bounds. But one only had to read Genesis to know that forbidden fruit was the sweetest. His first thought upon seeing her had been,‘This would be easier if she was ugly’.
He had been careful to maintain control since that day and had been rewarded with a friendship he’d grown to rely on. He’dhad the occasional moment of weakness since. When he’d had too much wine and the candlelight had kissed the skin of her throat, he might have thought, ‘What if?’
But he had always taken strict care not to indulge those fleeting thoughts. Louisa seemed content with being part of the background of his life. He had no intention of dragging her to center stage for his own amusement.
Someday, she might become Lady What’s-it, or Mrs Somebody-or-other, and have no more time to listen to his ramblings over a cup of tea or stand up with him at a ball when he needed a few minutes of peace away from the title hunters. But he did not want to let her go a moment before he had to.
However, in the past few days, everything had become more difficult. By the end of this little charade, he would have a host of less than fleeting moments stored in his imagination to bolster the single lurid tale of Tom Smith’s picnic. Louisa Skeffington would be the core of his fantasies for some time to come.
But the contents of his mind could remain secret. If he did not speak of them, or act on them, his dreams were his own and Louisa need never suspect she was ever in them.
By the time a servant came to announce the Skeffington carriage had arrived he’d buried his lustful thoughts and was ready once more to greet her as a friend. As his butler saw to the loading of Tom Smith’s luggage, he climbed up into the body and was surprised to see that Percy was not there. He gave Louisa a puzzled look.
‘He says he needs fresh air today and has decided to be an outrider for our journey,’ she said, with a shrug.
‘I have never known him to be carriage sick before,’ Thomas said.
‘I suspect he was dipping too deep last night and is still feeling the effects,’ she admitted. ‘Visiting Grandfather often puts him in a bad humour. They were saddling a horse for himas I left. He will be along momentarily and we can begin our journey.’
‘We will be alone, then,’ he said. He settled into the seat across from her and tried to suppress the flash of satisfaction that news brought.
‘Yes,’ she said, looking out the window as her brother rode up and signalled to the coachman they could set off.
They were less than an hour into the trip when Louisa began to wish she’d brought a book.
She had not bothered since she found it difficult to read in carriages. What with the jostling and bouncing and the uneven light, it sometimes gave her a megrim. To save herself from trouble, she usually dozed through her trips to the manor or stared out of the window and retreated into herself. She could have all the time she wanted to imagine a different future than the one that awaited her when they arrived in Wiltshire.
When heroines in books set out on such journeys, there was invariably a carriage accident of some kind. A broken wheel or a lame horse would require them to stop at a rose-covered cottage. There a kindly woman would offer her tea and involve her in a search for a lost and handsome heir. Or maybe an old man would tell her of a missing treasure that required a clever girl to solve riddles, three.
Unfortunately, the Skeffington carriage was in good repair, and the horses were young and healthy. Nothing ever happened on these trips and she was forced to make up a more interesting journey in her head to entertain herself.
But with Thomas Carew sitting across from her, she dared not let her mind wander. He often played a part in her travel daydreams. Usually, he was her rescuer. But occasionally, when she was feeling more daring, she might need to save him. Hewas either gallant or grateful, depending on circumstances, and things always ended happily, with the two of them together.
This time, she did not need to fantasise. He was right here in front of her. It was maddening. She had never been required to be sopresentbefore. It would be rude of her to shade her eyes and pretend to sleep if he wanted to talk to her. Before this deception began, she’d rarely talked to him for any length of time, outside of the conversations she’d invented in her own mind, of course. And on this journey, she had assumed that Percy would be here to entertain him.
