Undone by His Kiss (22 page)

She placed her hands on his shoulders, her fingertips firm through his linen shirt, gripping with a delicious urgency that granted acquiescence. But she couldn’t be thinking clearly, his mind fogged by passion and temptation and unrelenting desire, still a portion of good sense remained and that sliver of sound judgment demanded he stop.

He splayed his palm across her inner thigh, and she quivered, her skin melting into the heated press of his hand, her soft silk a contrast to the tight edge of her stocking. He should strip her stocking down, push her skirts up and taste her delicate skin. He should…
good lord
.

At last he found sanity, despite he hadn’t searched with purpose, and he pulled away as if burned. He swallowed any words he might have muttered, his breathing uneven, his heart pounding and his mind left to wonder how deliciously wet Miss Shaw had become.

“Jasper?” This time it was a raspy question and he answered by matching her eyes, sensing the connection and understanding every emotion without either of them uttering a word.

She struggled, then straightened in the chair and he awkwardly smoothed her skirts, replacing her slipper and finding a slight smile as he finished the task.

There was nothing for it. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, but he would not hurt her for the world and that truth resounded with clarity.

He loved her.

He loved her well and thoroughly.

Something was wrong with her.

Locked in her bedchamber, Emily undressed without Agnes’ assistance, dismissing the maid with the same haste she wished to dispatch her conflicted emotions after returning home from Bond Street. What mortifying excuse had she mumbled before gathering her things and fleeing the office? She was no coward, or so she’d thought. Perhaps, deep down, she was, after all.

Now locked behind the door, she unbuttoned her day gown, twisting in agitation to accomplish the task and release the ties, dropping it to the floor next to her discarded stockings and slippers.

She’d allowed Jasper intimacies, the wanton inhibition enough to singe her conscience and swamp her in endless shame, yet no matter how she attempted to chastise her wicked behavior, another part of her, some dark secret unexplored portion of her soul, couldn’t regret what she’d done.

And that truth scared her above all else.

She stripped all three petticoats, the light cotton threatening to tear as she anxiously removed the garments, passing them off to the bed’s counterpane, anxious to shed the layers of fabric and emotion that suffocated her more with each logic-defying conclusion.

Jasper held the power to melt her resolve with nothing more than a kiss…or the inexorable pleasure of his hand on her thigh. She trembled with the memory, a delicious ripple of sensation weaving through her ribs to settle much lower. She unlaced her short corset, wriggling with the inconvenience, at last loosening the stays enough to gain freedom. She stood in her chemise, facing the mirror for several breaths as if seeing a different person than the Emily she’d believed herself to be. Conflicted, she curled upon the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees as if to gather close her usual control.

What had she done? Another stroke of his fingertip along her stockings and she would have shattered into myriad pieces as fragile as the porcelain figurines that adorned her vanity, forever changed.

Just like her mother.

Broken.

Gathering her legs closer to shut out the ugly conclusion she was not nearly as strong or determined as she pretended, Emily held her breath a long minute, her eyes clenched tight. She no longer understood her purpose, to live life without the encumbrance and restrictions of love, to carve a path and establish an independent existence. Yet here she lay, yearning for a man she hardly knew, a man who somehow spoke to her heart without uttering a word.

The tangle of emotion terrified and enthralled her. She wouldn’t fall into the trap which snared her mother and kept her caged, her voice unheard, with sorrow so great it crippled her mind.

Yet better sense rebelled against this well-worn excuse. She wouldn’t allow the heartbreaking past actions of her father to dictate her future. The ordered pieces of her logic no longer fitted. Nothing made sense any more, her heart and mind at odds.

Still, if she allowed herself to envision a life shared with a man who respected her opinion, challenged her intelligence and ignited her passion, she knew without fail, Jasper was her heart’s choice. The knowledge enthralled her to the depth of her soul, while simultaneously scaring her more than the threat of mistake.

“Emily? Are you awake?” Her mother’s voice, clear and alert, sounded through the door panel, followed by a sturdy knock.

Emily watched the knob turn as she swiped at her eyes to dash away any telltale emotion and sat up. “Yes, Mother. Please come in.”

“Mary said you rushed past her on the stairwell and dismissed Agnes before she could assist you. Is something wrong? Has someone upset you?”

With belated realization, Emily swung her eyes to the basket in the corner finding relief when she secured the brown blanket remained neatly in place. With her mother’s sullen mood of late, Emily worried she’d grown complacent or worse, careless with the letters, but no, everything remained in place. She turned toward her mother, who’d watched with keen attention.

“I’m fine.” She swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat and traced the grooves of the carved bedpost with her finger.

“It wasn’t that gentleman with the crested carriage, was it? You can tell me if something is wrong, Emily. I miss our talks.” Her mother’s expression softened, her words and intentions both forthright and startling.

How ironic, that her mother would display such lucid interest and attentive concern when Emily couldn’t confide her troubling thoughts. She’d missed her mother’s kindness and endearing comfort. She’d missed her mother. Yet any misstep might send her whirling into agitation, an angry downward spiral long lasting or perhaps, never ending. Fear kept her mouth closed, despite a whirlwind of memories unraveled inside.

“Why don’t I ring for tea? We can sit at the window seat and share a pot.” Emily rose from the bed and gathered her wrapper, knotting it at the waist with an enthusiastic tug before she stooped to push aside her discarded dress garments.

“I would like that.” Her mother smiled, focused and genuine, and in a daring moment of hope Emily believed her.

Chapter 23

Emily’s optimism carried to the following morning. She’d slept through the night without a dream to disturb her rest. She rose early and donned a simple teal day gown before inviting Portia, Thomasina, and Cynthia to meet at Hyde Park. They’d share a morning constitutional and lively chatter. It was time she relied on her friends for more than presentations and occasional company. She needed advice and it would take all three of the ladies to help her understand the conflicted emotions bombarding her every minute.

As planned they met at the marble fountain near the west end of The Serpentine. Several mute swans cluttered the walkway and couples meandered, finding respite in the lovely surroundings. The foursome followed the walking path, bordered with bilberry and a low stone wall, their animated conversation filling the air until they reached a clearing where three wrought-iron benches were arranged for conversation.

“Emily, come sit and tell us what is troubling you. It must be important to prompt this secretive outing or we wouldn’t be assembled in the park when we could meet at the office or your home.” Portia broached the subject Emily suspected everyone considered but hesitated in mentioning. “Is it your mother? Has her condition worsened?”

Condition. Such an innocuous word. Her friends barely knew the half of it, confessed only at her most emotional moments and then regretted later. “No.” She shook her head to confirm her answer. “Mother’s behavior of late has improved, although I often feel on the edge, as if the slightest change can topple our makeshift happiness as easily as a house of cards.” She realized her brow was furrowed in concern and smoothed her expression. “Thank you though.”

“Then what is it?” Thomasina grasped her hand in encouragement.

Emily hesitated, unsure how one went about confessing a total debilitation of morals accompanied by a relentless yearning to discover what would happen were Jasper to slide his hand a little bit higher, stroke her skin, touch her
there
. She cleared her throat despite she hadn’t said a thing.

“I have news,” Cynthia interjected, her smile blooming. “I’ve met a gentleman who has changed my mind about wanting an independent life.”

This shocking confession silenced the ladies to breathing only.

At the trio of gaping stares, Cynthia continued with fervor, “Oh, I’ll still participate in the league. Don’t worry.” She added a laugh. “I’ve just changed my outlook.”

“This is wonderful news.” Portia broke free of surprise and chimed in first. “Independence is a choice, one we promote with vigor and confidence, not a lifestyle meant to exclude. I couldn’t be happier for you.” She pulled Cynthia into a tight hug.

“Do we know the gentleman? However did you keep this relationship secret for so long?” Thomasina prodded for more information, a gleam of calculation lighting her eyes as if she sought to organize all the available facts. “The only male who’s drawn my attention of late has been Mr. St. David and that’s because he leases the office downstairs.”

Again silence fell in wait of Cynthia’s answer although Emily used the time to calm the hitch in her pulse, Portia’s mention of Jasper producing an alarming jolt.

And then, as if she’d separated from the chatter of her friends and sank into a hazy vague shroud of excogitation, emotion, doubt and speculation rose to the forefront to cultivate shadows of apprehension and ambiguity and make little sense as they nevertheless warred with her heart.

What if Cynthia cared for Jasper? What if Jasper pursued Cynthia? Perhaps his affections were scattered all about London and she’d fallen prey to a shameless lothario who cared little for her genuine affection and frequently slinked his hand up the skirt of any willing female? What provoked these thoughts? What was wrong with her? Had she become as addled as her mother? And what would one label this emotion? Insecurity? Suspicion? Lovesickness?

Emily took a long cleansing breath and shook her head vigorously to rid the path of the ridiculous and illogical rubbish produced by her contemplation. She blinked twice and refocused on Cynthia’s continued conversation.

“I’ll introduce you in due time. Besides, we’ve collected today to help Emily with her concern. I only wished to share my news before we began with more serious considerations.”

All attention swiveled in Emily’s direction and like a bird with a broken wing she had no way to flee. Best she get on with her admission.

“Years ago I vowed love would never become my weakness.” She spoke in a soft whisper, aware her friends hung on every word yet unable to voice her confession louder. “I witnessed my parents’ relationship, my mother’s devotion, and promised in my heart never to lose myself so completely to a man that I could no longer think straight or function without languishing for his affection or waiting for his approval. My mother sacrificed too many years in exchange of my father’s attention. And I knew without doubt or reservation that I wished to achieve complete competency before inviting the complications of love.”

“But love can be freeing, Emily,” Thomasina consoled. “It shouldn’t be considered a weakness because love with the right person will be divine. It’s only when that person seeks to control, manipulate and dictate, that it takes a poor turn. And in truth, if that occurs, the relationship isn’t based on love at all.”

Portia nodded in agreement. “I know you too well to believe you wish to deny affirming affection. You’ve formed this league to protect your heart but I don’t think any of us wish to live a solitary life. What we yearn for as members is to establish our skills, pursue our dreams, and find happiness beyond society’s boundaries. For many of us, the choice includes love and support of a husband and growing family. The difference is that we seek to find happiness on our terms, where we are not compromised in any manner.”

“Besides, you can’t control the heart,” Thomasina quickly chimed in. “You can’t decide who you fall in love with.”

“I can.” Emily rejected her friend’s claim though her words lacked the conviction needed to prove her point.

“That just isn’t true.” Thomasina bit back a smile. “I like nothing more than sound theory to substantiate my beliefs, but when it comes to emotion, there are no rules. That in itself is the one constant.”

Emily eyed her friends, surprised by their accurate intuition of her faltering. Ambivalence, that uncomfortable unsettling, was the only way she could describe her feelings. Of course, she wanted love. Yearned for it actually, when she dared to examine her upbringing, but the relinquishing of control and the lack of independence that inevitably supervened, composed the kernel of mistrust sowed deep within her. Still, she couldn’t judge all unions in the same manner nor measure all marriages with the same ruler.

She took a deep breath and accepted the excellent advice of her friends, brightened by their understanding when she’d hardly revealed her heartache.

“It’s not a compromise,” Cynthia added, a slight smile on her face. “When you find the right person to respect your wishes, it’s absolutely wonderful and more of a completion than a sacrifice.”

Armed with the reassurance of her friends and relieved they hadn’t pressed for a more precise impetus to her troubles, Emily allowed the conversation to return to Cynthia’s unexpected announcement until they hugged each other tightly and parted for the day.

Emily headed toward home with a brighter outlook, unsure exactly how to handle her conflicted emotions concerning Jasper, but confident she needn’t try to deny all relationships were ruinous. Perhaps she could find affection with a man who respected her opinions and ideas more than society’s judicious prescription.