‘I have just decided that I would not make him the best wife,’ Audrey had told her sister firmly. ‘And I believe I am not the only one who thinks so. I met his mother upon two occasions and I don’t believe she cared for me at all.’
‘What do you care what the mother thinks? Lady Allingham is a frightful prig. Believe me when I say that she is not a popular woman.’
‘Hardly a recommendation for a happy relationship in the future,’ Audrey had said ruefully. ‘Truly Belle, I had doubts and who wants to have doubts when one is embarking on such an adventure? There is no point in marrying a man one cannot commit to completely, now is there?’ For in her heart of hearts, she was still determined to pursue that one thing that she knew must be attainable; true love. And much as she liked Lord Allingham, she absolutely knew he was not going to be the great love of her life, earl or not.
The comment had made her sister give her a long, thoughtful look but mercifully, she had said no more.
Isabella’s bewilderment was understandable for, up until that night at Almack’s, Audrey had been well on the way to convincing herself that she might indeed like Lord Allingham well enough to marry him, Lady Allingham’s opinion notwithstanding. In fact, with a little more encouragement she knew now she would have begun to convince herself that he was her true love, which only went to show that one must never rush into any decision upon which one’s future happiness depended. It was just as well, she’d reflected when the whole thing was done, that she had met Mr. Kirkwood for he had made her see that she was in danger of straying from her goal. Audrey could deal with a disapproving mother-in-law if the right man presented himself; for the right man, she would brave almost anything. But meeting Allingham’s disreputable half-brother made her realize that she had not met the right man. If she had really cared for Allingham half as much as she had thought, there was no way in the world she would have allowed Mr. Kirkwood to take such liberties. Nor would she had felt so… so incandescent in the wretched man’s arms, for one could not truly be falling in love with one man only to shatter into a thousand overwrought pieces in the arms of another. She had never felt anything akin to the emotions that kiss had ignited within her. Kirkwood might be a seasoned man of the world and a little light lovemaking with young females was probably as common an occurrence for him as placing a wager on a horse or a sparring session at Belcher’s, but she had been a complete novice when it came to such stuff and that embrace had left her feeling as if she were on fire. Even now, she had only to think of it and she felt a flush of heat rush through her.
After she had left Almack’s so precipitously that night, she had retreated to her room immediately, wanting some privacy to think about the enormity of what had occurred. Mr. Kirkwood, Allingham’s bastard brother, had kissed her and she was desperate to try and understand how that had come about. He had thoroughly kissed her too, even going so far as to put his tongue into her mouth. Audrey might not have much experience with such things – well, actually she had none at all – but she had heard enough to know that a man sliding his tongue into a lady’s mouth was an excessively daring thing to do. She had secretly thought it must be an extremely unpleasant experience for a tongue was… well, a tongue, after all and not the kind of thing that would send one’s pulses racing. And yet Kirkwood’s deliberate invasion of her mouth had certainly done so. It had been distressingly enlightening on more levels than she had cared to contemplate.
Even now, four months later, her lingering flush of desire still mingled with a cringing kind of embarrassment when she remembered how she had eagerly responded to the feel of that strong, hard body against her own. Whatever initial shock she had experienced had worn off far too soon as far as Audrey was concerned. Indeed, it was her unrestrained reaction to his kiss that continued to trouble her the most, for she could not recall struggling at all, no matter how many times she reviewed the episode in her mind. She had encouraged him, opening her own mouth beneath the insistent pressure of his lips, putting her hands on his shoulders, pressing herself against him. Dear God, she had behaved like a complete wanton when she should have been fighting him. At the very least she should have slapped his face.
Why on earth had she not slapped his face?
Upon waking after that tumultuous evening, she found that she was no more certain of what she should be feeling than she had been the night before. Her future was no longer assured but she formulated a plan – a mad plan, in retrospect – the following day for she felt she must prove that her unfortunate encounter had been nothing more than an aberration. In retrospect, she knew that she was trying to justify her inexplicable behavior, for she had decided the morning after Kirkwood’s delicious assault upon her senses that she must be the kind of female that simply enjoyed being kissed. There was really no other explanation than that. She had not thought she was that kind of girl, but obviously she had been mistaken for nothing else made sense. She had not liked Mr. Kirkwood in the least and yet she had melted in his arms like hot wax. In truth, she knew quite a few girls who made no bones about how much they enjoyed being kissed and actively pursued gentlemen who might be expected to do so. Audrey had always thought them quite shockingly bold but it seemed likely she was one such female. She simply had not realized that was the case. With this in mind, surely Allingham would produce the same dizzying sensations when he kissed her?
It had suddenly become important to prove her theory and she set out to discover if this were true with a kind of desperate determination that, in hindsight, must have been the product of the shock she had sustained from Kirkwood’s marvelous assault.
She would somehow persuade Allingham to kiss her at Lady Jersey’s rout that very night. And so she had. With a single-minded determination, she had maneuvered Allingham into a position where kissing her would be inevitable. It had been more difficult than she had imagined for he was not at all forward, nothing like his older brother. But there had been a moon and there had been music and it had felt intoxicatingly intimate in the garden where she had managed to lead him without making her destination or her intentions too obvious. That aspect had been important for naturally she had to make it seem as if it was his idea (it was a known fact that no gentleman liked to be pushed into any situation they might prefer to orchestrate themselves) but she had managed the thing so well that he had succumbed to her manipulation without any hesitation. Why should he not? Allingham was a singularly honorable man.
This is going to be perfect, she had thought with grim determination as she’d looked up at him, expression one of melting surrender (or so she hoped). Allingham will sweep me into his arms and the world will tilt on its axis and I will know, once and for all, that I am the sort of girl who simply enjoys being kissed and that Allingham should be the one who is kissing me…
Regrettably, all had not gone according to plan and the anticipated kiss had been a monumental disappointment. For a start, his lips had been tentative and uncertain and the arm that had crept around her waist had felt far too apologetic. She had given a small murmur of encouragement, hoping for a little more enthusiasm and, after a few moments he had been bold enough to press her lips more firmly and hold her a little more tightly. Apparently he had seemed to think she was made of spun sugar that might break if held too tightly and after only a few moments he had released her with a hurried apology.