Page 41 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

Feeling even more disconcerted than when he’d arrived, he strode out of the hotel, trying to focus on the positive outcome of this meeting. He’d got what he’d come for. Soon, he would be back in America. His father’s house would be providing sanctuary to mistreated women and children, and he would finally be free.

But as he left the Savoy and climbed back into his waiting carriage, he discovered he was not rejoicing nor did he feel as if freedom was within his grasp. Instead, the hollow ache inside his chest and his bitter sense of loss only reinforced what a selfish, unworthy man he was.

Chapter Fourteen

Primrose had no idea what to do with herself. Walking around the garden repeatedly was not helping, not one iota, and the animals were starting to watch her circular progress with what looked like alarm. She had tried explaining to them what had happened, even though it made little sense even to her, and while they made excellent listeners, they were no help at all in putting things straight in her head.

But she had to do something about the bubbling sensations that would not settle and the emotions and thoughts that continued to spin around in her head, as if in an argument with each other.

What she needed was the help of friends capable of responding, not just listening. To that end, she went back inside, found some paper, a nib pen and ink in her desk drawer and scribbled two notes to summon Alice and Margaret.

Hopefully they would each have words of wisdom to impart on how to ease the immediate problem of all these rampaging thoughts, feelings and sensations and her long-term problem of what to do about Lucian Montclair.

She handed the notes to Alfred and asked him to deliver them post-haste.

Once that was done, she went back to her directionless meandering around the garden, watched by the confused animals, and waited for her friends to arrive.

While she did so, she rehearsed what she might say to them. She needed to be clear and precise and explain everything in a level-headed manner, without emotion clouding her mind and confusing her thought processes.

But no one had ever accused Primrose of being level-headed, and she was rarely unemotional, even at the best of times. Right now, achieving that elusive state was proving an impossibility. Especially when memories of her kiss with Lucian kept intruding and driving out all other thoughts.

Once again, a delicious thrill quivered through her body, as it did every time she thought of that kiss. Her fingers lightly stroked her mouth. How could the touch of lips on lips cause such a wonderful, tumultuous reaction in every part of one’s body?

She recommenced walking. Maybe she could ask her friends, she thought with wry amusement, knowing that question was not listed among the ones she needed answering. She did not need to have her physical reaction to his touch explained to her. What she needed to know was what she should do next.

That kiss had changed everything for her and had seemingly turned her world upside down. What she needed to know was how to turn it back the right way or else learn how to cope when everything was topsy-turvy.

Alice and Margaret arrived more quickly than she had anticipated, but then she had never summoned them to an urgent conference before, and their expressions suggested they were expecting to deal with a catastrophe.

‘What happened? What did he do?’ Alice called out as her two friends rushed through the open doors of the drawing room and down the garden path. It appeared Primrose did not even need to explain that it was Lucian she wished to discuss.

‘He kissed me.’

Alice and Margaret came to an abrupt halt in front of her, their concerned expressions suggesting they did not see this as something to be pleased about.

‘And how do you feel about that?’ Margaret asked, tentatively.

‘Oh, I feel good. Very, very good. The kiss was wonderful,’ she said on a sigh. ‘And I could tell that he really, really wanted it too. In fact, I could tell he wanted much more than to just kiss me.’ She couldn’t help but smile wickedly at that memory. ‘But then he stopped kissing me and just left, saying foolish things about me being oh-so-innocent, and how I needed to stay that way. Now I’m completely confused. It’s as if I’ve got this storm raging inside my head that simply won’t allow me to think clearly.’

She waited for her friends’ responses, but their looks of concerns did not waver, as if they could not grasp what she meant.

‘Oh, stop looking at me like that,’ she said tartly. ‘You both know exactly what I’m going through. Margaret, I remember how the duke managed to fluster you past the point of reason. And, Alice, you’re usually so rational, but the earl caused you to completely unravel and act so out of character you barely recognised yourself. Well, that’s how I’m feeling now, unravelled and flustered. So I need sensible advice from sensible women who have been through this.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Alice said and, as if Primrose was an invalid, took her arm and led her back into the drawing room.

‘Right, tell us what happened,’ she said once they were all seated.

With a great deal of pleasure—because how could it not bring pleasure to talk about Lucian?—Primrose recounted all that had occurred between them, from the trip to the solicitors, through to the celebratory drink, the discussion about the house, the spinning around the room, and then that kiss, that wonderful, delicious kiss. Then she told them about him walking away, and her feeing of euphoria was once again replaced with that now-familiar bewildering chaos inside her head.

When she came to the end of her story she looked at her friends, who stared back at her, transfixed.

‘Well?’ she prompted, waiting for their pearls of wisdom.

‘You’ve obviously fallen under his spell,’ Margaret said with a nod, saying nothing Primrose didn’t already know.

‘And he appears to be nothing like his father,’ Alice added frankly. ‘The father certainly would not have stopped at one kiss.’

‘Yes, that’s unfortunate,’ Primrose said, remembering her aching disappointment when his lips left hers.