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This was ludicrous, Hester told herself at least a dozen times as she left her bedroom in a pale green morning dress that she had been able to put on without the help of Miss Cooper.
She descended the stairs to the ground floor, trying to tread carefully and not make the candle go out. She had considered not bringing a candle at all: She knew the house well enough that she would be able to go about it without one. But she had decided that it would add to her cover story that she could not sleep and wanted to find a book in the library if she met anyone: family member, servant, or guest. Her parents and Archie would be the hardest to convince since they all knew that she kept stacks of books in her room and would never run out of reading material. The servants would know too, but they would not mind it. That left the guests. Some might be fooled by such a story and as for those that would not, Hester thought that they would simply think her peculiar enough that she had made up such a story to cover for a matter more eccentric.
Besides, she was not supposed to meet anyone. At all. Hopefully, she would not even have to tell anyone the story. Nevertheless, she had prepared it, along with what she was going to tell Lord Lambourn. If she was going to lie, it always worked much better when she had rehearsed it. Even if he did not believe it, she counted on him overlooking her lie due to her eccentricity as well.
Hester drew a sigh of relief as she entered the dark and quiet library. The moonlight flooded through the windows in large squares and landed on the floor. Hester stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then went to sit in one of the chairs by the low burning fire. It had not been stoked and only embers remained, but they still gave some warmth in the October cold house. If any of the servants had known of their midnight rendezvous, they would certainly have kept the fire going to ensure that they could keep warm. Even in illicit affairs, the Montagu servants were immaculate.
Hester looked at the dark room. She did have a clock in her room, even though the same rules applied there as in her study: She hardly ever looked at the time. She had this evening though and she knew that she had left her room seven minutes to midnight since she had judged it was the time it would take her to walk to the library at a slow and sedate pace. Hence it should be midnight, but for some reason, Lord Lambourn was not there.
Of course, some people were notoriously late. Whenever she would meet Archie, she would never expect him to show up on time, but somehow, she had assumed that Lord Lambourn was just as punctual as her.
Assumed was the most important word in that sentence, she reminded herself. In truth, she knew very little about him. She knew what Sophia had told her, which was not much, since Hester had never encouraged her to talk about her brother. Up until – could it truly have been only two days ago? – she would only have been aware of him in terms of how to avoid a stilted conversation with him. Now she longed for a conversation with him. A real one, like the one they had shared in the forest where she had seen a glimpse of a man that she had never known was there.
Perhaps he would not come, Hester thought as she slumped in the chair. He was the one who had asked her, but he could have regretted his decision countless times since they had stood in the haberdashery. He was betrothed after all, or nearly. As far as she knew nothing had been made official yet. No announcement had been made, yet it was clear to all that Cecilia Gaywood was the future Countess of Lambourn.
Some birds mated for life while others merely found a mate for the season. Others were only together for the mating and then the female was left with caring for the offspring. In many ways like humans, she supposed.
However, if she had had to put money on it, she would have believed that Lord Lambourn belonged to the first category. Which only made their meeting here all the more scandalous and wrong. Cecilia Gaywood would expect him to be constant and dependable. Not having assignations with other women in libraries in the middle of the night. And that fact meant that Hester should definitely not feel a heaviness in her chest at the thought of him not showing.
Her stomach turned and she quickly rose. This had been a bad idea. She should not have come. Should never have agreed to it. She could at least prevent anything untoward from happening now, she told herself as she hurried toward the door. Two steps from it, she stopped abruptly as it opened. With her heart in her throat, Hester prepared to tell the story that she had concocted. Which was probably why she was momentarily relieved when she saw that it was Lord Lambourn standing in the doorway.
He was still in his evening attire, not carrying a candle. He closed the door and stood right inside it, staring at her, as if he had been the one uncertain whether she would show.
“Thank you for coming,” he then rasped. He had to be coming down with a cold, since his voice sounded like that.
“Well, thank you for coming, my lord,” Hester stated, because in that moment she had nothing but inbred civility to fall back on.
Lord Lambourn offered her a brief grin, then looked down at the carpet at his feet and rubbed his neck. Hester stood still as she watched him like he was an exotic bird that she had never had the chance to study. And in some ways, he was: What he had already done, how his body was at ease in a way that it never was around others, told her that she was seeing a side of him that few others did. His siblings, his grandmother, Cecilia Gaywood perhaps, and his friends, but no one else. For some reason, he had dropped the social mask that all people of their station carried when they were in public. That all people carried when they were in public, she supposed, but this was not a topic to be scrutinized at the moment.
“I...” he began, still looking at the floor, still rubbing his neck. Then he looked at her. Hester could not see his eyes, not the color in them, not the look, but somehow, she could still feel his eyes on her. Which was ridiculous because she had always thought it a strange statement when reading it in a book. But she could in that moment. “I just wanted to make certain that nothing is the matter. In the nursery and then in the haberdashery I had the sense that...”
“I lied,” Hester interrupted him. “I just...” She had prepared another, especially for him to prevent herself from telling him even more of the truth, yet the words were stuck in her throat. “I lied,” she repeated again. That was the main statement. The one she needed to stick to until she was out of the room. Until the next two weeks were over, and Lord Lambourn would surely never concern himself with her again.
“I see,” the earl said slowly. He was still studying her.
“Yes, I do that sometimes. I lie,” Hester croaked, which had not been something that she had planned.
“We all do I suppose,” Lord Lambourn muttered, and his shoulders slumped. He looked at the door for a moment, then back at her. “I’m glad then,” he said flatly. “For a moment, I was concerned about you.”
“You were?” Hester blurted because it seemed impossible that Lord Lambourn was able to feel such a human feeling as concern towards her. Hate, detest, and dislike would have been the feelings that she associated with him before this week, and now perhaps just acknowledging her as a human being, but nothing more.
“Yes, I... Lady Hester, if you are in any way uncomfortable by something I have done, I sincerely apologize for it,” Lord Lambourn stated solemnly. His feet and legs twitched as if he wanted to move but then thought better of it.
“Something you have done, sir?” Hester asked slowly while trying to piece it together in her mind what exactly he could have done. He had done nothing to make her notice him, had he? He could not be blamed for her thinking him handsome, or her body and mind reacting in strange and unpredictable ways whenever he was in her vicinity.
“Yes, if I have behaved inappropriately towards you, I should like to apologize.”
“These past few days or the entire six years that we have been acquainted?” Hester had to ask.
Because somehow it seemed to matter exactly what he was apologizing for.
“I assumed only the past few days, but if I have done anything in the past – Heavens, has it really been six years? – then I apologize for that as well,” Lord Lambourn stated in a tired voice. He closed his eyes as he said the last part, then briefly opened them to look at Hester.
“I feel I am the one that should apologize, sir,” Hester told him as she looked straight into his eyes. No, no, no. Definitely do not tell him that, a voice in the back of her mind told her. Yet she seemed incapable of continuing. “I feel I am the one who has been behaving inappropriately.”
“You?” Lord Lambourn exclaimed.
***
“Yes, me,” Lady Hester stated in a clipped voice like she was trying to prevent herself from speaking. She eyed the closed door behind Flint as if she wanted to escape. He could not help but follow her motion and see the large black square in the darkness of the room that was the solid oak door he had entered through only minutes ago.
“If you wish to leave, please by all means do so. I will not hold you here against your will, but I would also very much like to know what you mean,” Flint said and tried to keep his voice steady.
Her eyes turned back to him, wide as if she was afraid.
“I want to leave, but I also want to stay,” she told him solemnly in a way that made Flint’s heart somersault in his chest because this statement was so her in every way.
“Well, I can’t make that decision for you,” he tried to say in a flippant tone but ended up gulping on the last words. He stepped away from her and leaned against the large table in the room, meant for studying some of the larger books. He crossed both his ankles and his arms as if the casual stance would help his nerves calm down. It did not, at least not if one was to judge it by his heart rate. His heart was pounding so fiercely that he felt certain that Lady Hester had to be able to hear it in the silent library.
“Perhaps we should trade,” she offered him and turned towards him and clasped her hands behind her back. Her father had the same habit, Flint had noticed. He also observed that she was not wearing the same dress but one that buttoned at the front. It would be easy to – he snapped his attention back to her face and what she had said.
“Trade?” he asked.
“Yes, you will tell me why you think you need to apologize, and I will tell you why I feel the need to do so.”
“I never said that I needed to apologize, I just said that if I had done anything that merited an apology then I would like to apologize.”
“Then you do not feel you owe me an apology at all, Lord Lambourn?” Lady Hester crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer.
Despite Lady Hester not being like any other woman he had ever met, she certainly knew how to twist words in the same way.
Flint uncrossed both his arms and ankles and stood upright, holding out his hands in an attempt to appear harmless.
“I feel I just walked into a trap of my own making,” he told her honestly.
To his surprise, Lady Hester simply muttered in a tired voice:
“I know that sentiment.”
Flint stared at her for a moment, unable to come up with an answer.
“If none of us have anything to apologize for, then...”
“Well, but I do,” Lady Hester told him, wide-eyed, a little out of breath as well? Flint was not certain. “Will you accept my apology, sir? And then we will never have to address this topic again?”
“I do not think you owe me an apology, Lady Hester,” he stated after raking his brain for a moment, trying to think of what she could have done. He saw her jaw go slack at his words, then become tight-lipped when he added: “You have done nothing wrong.”
“Are you saying that, because you will not acknowledge what I have done or because you truly are unaware of what I have done?” Lady Hester asked him with narrowed eyes.
Heavens, what had she done?
“The latter,” Flint responded.
“Truly? I thought my feelings were so transparent that it was embarrassing. I probably have to reevaluate my assessment of my own ability to hide my feelings. At least I have gained that much from this conversation...” She stopped talking when Flint closed the space between them and gently took hold of her upper arms.
“Feelings?” he rasped. “What feelings?”
Lady Hester looked up at him. Her eyes were dark pools in her face that he could read nothing but apprehension from. She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.
“The illicit kind, obviously. Why else would I need to apologize?”
In any other situation, Flint later told himself that he would have been able to keep his feelings for her hidden. That he would never have bent his head as he did now and slowly lowered his mouth towards hers. His entire body shook slightly from the effect of finally touching her, at last giving in to his desire for her.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Lady Hester asked, almost sounding terrified.
Flint’s head reared back, and he let go of her.
“Yes, I... I beg your pardon, madam. I... I just thought... the feelings you spoke of, I thought... I sincerely apologize, I should never have...”
“You want to kiss me?” Lady Hester asked him, as she took a step forward. Flint stepped back. He needed space from her if he was to think this situation through.
He had been so certain that she had been talking about – but it would have been too good to be true, would it not? And why would she?
“Lord Lambourn,” Flint’s attention snapped back to her. “Were you going to kiss me?”
“Yes, well, that should be quite obvious that I...”
She had stepped closer to him again. Flint bumped into the table as he tried to retreat from her once again. Apparently, she was determined not to give him the space he needed to be able to think.
“I don’t think anything is obvious when it comes to you, sir,” Lady Hester stated. Before Flint had time to come up with a reply to that statement, she asked: “Do you still want to kiss me?”
The hem of her skirt was brushing his legs and her scent of lemon and spring flowers – and even now she smelled of the outdoors – enveloped him. Her nearness felt overwhelming; after pining after her for six years, she was finally within his grasp if he would only allow himself – Flint nodded before he could think better of it.
“I would like to kiss you too,” Lady Hester stated in her solemn, straightforward way. “Although I should warn you that I have not kissed anyone before and I understand that these matters become better with practice, hence you should not expect...”
She quieted when Flint drew her into his arms.
“I like it when people embrace me tightly,” she told him as she snaked her arms around his neck and inched her body closer to his. Flint smiled and tightened his arms around her, fitting her against his body.
“Like this?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Tighter.”
There was no air between them as he tightened his arms even further and Lady Hester let out a content sigh. He could not help but smile at her.
“Do people often embrace you in this manner?” he could not help but ask, even though it was torture to have her this closed, pressed completely against him and not having kissed her yet.
“No, usually only very briefly, I’m afraid. Sometimes my mother but she is so much shorter than me that it does not feel right. Sophia tries to as well, but the height is an issue as well. I like it when my brothers and father embrace me, as they are taller, but they will only do so for a short amount of time. And at any event embracing my father and brothers are quite different... from this.” She pressed against him as she said the last words and Flint tightened his hold on her even further without thinking.
“I should hope not,” he chuckled.
“How are we going to do this?” Lady Hester asked and looked at his mouth as she spoke. Flint felt his lips tingle at her gaze alone.
“We lean our heads together,” he said as he lowered his head towards her. His stomach swirled with warmth as she raised her head slightly towards his. “And then we let our lips meet.”
“What about our noses?” Lady Hester asked just before their lips met.
“They should remain attached to our face while we kiss,” Flint told her but tilted his head slightly, nevertheless.
Lady Hester chuckled, the movement of her laughter making her bosom bounce against his chest in a delightful way.
“And what about our tongues? Sophia said that...”
Flint kissed her before she could utter any more questions. Besides he was not certain that he wanted to know what his sister taught her friends about kissing. Lady Hester’s lips were soft and sweet under his and he sighed against them, as he let himself indulge in what was already a terrible vice for him. Lady Hester exhaled against his lips and pressed herself even firmer against him if it was even possible. Flint nipped on her bottom lip, knowing that he had to savor every second of kissing her because this would both be their first and last kiss. He could never allow himself to indulge in this way again. Which was why he groaned when Lady Hester pulled her head back slightly.
“What about our tongues?” she asked again. She was a bit out of breath and, if he was not mistaken, a bit flushed as well although it was hard to tell in the darkness. Flint felt a smug smile tug at his lips.
“We will get to that part eventually,” he answered her and lowered his head towards her again.
“When?” she demanded.
“When it feels right,” Flint murmured.
“It feels right for me now.”
“Well, it does not feel right for me yet,” Flint stated. He needed to explore her lips a little more, before exploring her mouth.
Instead of meeting his lips, she leaned her head back to look at him.
“But surely you have kissed someone before?”
Flint deliberated for a moment whether to lie or not, but he had always thought that she responded best to honesty.
“Yes,” he humored her, even though his impatience to kiss her again was growing by the second.
“Should you not then want to proceed more quickly than me who has not kissed before?”
“No,” was Flint’s only reply as he lowered his head again.
“Why?” Lady Hester demanded, still without raising her head to meet his lips.
Flint pulled back a bit, sensing that they apparently needed to have this lengthy discussion right at this moment.
Because this is the only time I can indulge in my desire to kiss you and I need to savor it as much as possible, he thought as he looked into her eyes. He could never say that though and instead told her:
“Because I like the feel of your lips and because people are different, so are their paces at kissing. Is that an acceptable reason?”
“Very,” Lady Hester told him, and before he knew it, she had pressed her lips against his again.
Her inexperience was evident, but she was eager and determined as she tried to control the kiss and Flint could not help but indulge her. She nipped his lips like he had done, kissed one corner of his mouth, and then the other before Flint caught her lips again. When he could not help himself any longer, he licked her bottom lip and thankfully they did not have to go into a lengthy discussion before her lips parted and he could slide his tongue into her mouth.
It tasted like mint from the toothpowder she had evidently used before meeting him and Flint regretted the two brandies he had had with her brother and his own.
At first, Flint had simply been focusing on coaxing Hester’s tongue to meet his but as she caught onto it, he felt himself becoming more and more aroused by their kiss. She let out small moans of excitement that seemed to send waves of heat straight to his groin. As closely as they were pressed together, she had to be able to feel it even through their layers of clothes; nevertheless, she did not do anything to pull away from him. As a woman who wanted to preserve her dignity should. As an inexperienced virgin definitely would.
Hester moved her hips, brushing his erection, and even though it was just the briefest friction, Flint could not help but groan. The sound made him break the kiss, and with his last resort, he pulled his head back.
“Did... did I do something wrong?” Hester asked him tentatively, her voice full of apprehension.
“No, it was perfect,” Flint immediately reassured her, his voice thick and husky. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “But we cannot continue.”
“Why?”
Flint could not help but sigh. She would certainly be a challenge if they were married when she questioned everything he did. His stomach felt like ice water leaked into it. No, not married. He could never be married to her. If he held onto even one tiny shred of his heart still, he would surely lose it if he actually married her, and then both he and the many people who depended on him might end up doomed if anything ever happened to her. He involuntarily pressed her firmer against him at the thought which only made Hester smile as if she had won.
“You are a virgin,” he said, and it was as much a statement as a question. Because with this wonderful and peculiar woman, it actually seemed possible that he could be the first to kiss her, but that she had already slept with another. Which seemed a terrible thought, but luckily, she simply answered:
“Yes.”
Flint sighed with relief and slumped a little against her.
“Which should make it obvious why we cannot continue,” Flint told her.
“But are you not aroused?” Hester asked and once again pressed her hips against his at a crooked angle because of their difference in height. Flint’s erection had been declining but was rapidly back as he felt her softness against him.
“Yes, but that is insignificant. Certainly, we cannot...”
“But you want to?” she interrupted him.
“Yes,” Flint sighed because there was no reason to lie.
Hester smiled triumphantly, and Flint’s heart flapped uncontrollably and stupidly in his chest at having put the smile there.
“But that does not signify,” he told her. “We cannot continue...”
“I do not want to sleep with you, Lord Lambourn,” she interrupted him again.
This made Flint speechless for a moment. Both her statement – because what had they been discussing then? – but also, her use of his title.
“Flint,” he ground out.
“Flint?”
“Yes, you should call me Flint.”
“I cannot. Everyone will know that something untoward has happened between us if I begin calling you by your given name...” Hester started and he sensed that she could go on for a while as she was wont to, which was why he interrupted her, despite having been drilled as a child to never do so.
“Not in public. Simply when we are alone. Just the two of us.” He moved his arm around her waist slightly to make her aware that he was still holding her.
“Oh,” Hester’s mouth went round. “Flint,” she then muttered as if testing the name, as if allowing herself to say it for the first time. Flint instantly realized that it had been a mistake, but there was no retreat now. It had felt instinctively wrong to have her call him by his title at that moment. Then he remembered the other part of her statement that had made no sense to him.
“If you do not wish to sleep with me,” the words hurt a little, even though he knew that they would never sleep together, “then what exactly were we discussing?”
Hester did not meet his eyes as she answered but instead looked at her right hand that had slid to his chest and was fingering one of his lapels.
“I have read a pamphlet,” she said breathlessly.
Flint’s entire body tightened as he was quite certain which pamphlet she was speaking of. It had caused a riot when a pamphlet titled A Guide of Marital Relations for the New Bride had been found at Lady Clopton’s summer ball this season. Who had left it was still a mystery, but everyone had instantly wanted a copy.
Percy had come home with one a couple of nights after and read out loud from it after their grandmother had retired. He had heartily approved of the author’s attempt to educate women in the art of lovemaking. Flint had acted indifferent towards it but had secretly read it in his room afterward and had been astonished by the thorough advice in it. Like how a woman might use her hands or mouth to pleasure a man – and a man could do the same to a woman of course. This had not been news to him, but he had been astonished that women sought this kind of knowledge.
“We can’t,” Flint rasped.
Obviously not, because he did not want to, but because if he ever touched her more intimately it would be that much harder to let her go afterward. And he had to.
“Why? No one will know,” Hester questioned and raised her eyes to his. There was a determination in them now.
Flint breathed deeply and forced himself to release his grasp on her. Tentatively he stepped away from her, looking out at the dark courtyard for a moment. Yes, why exactly? Which reason could he give that would be satisfying...
“Cecilia!” he blurted almost triumphantly and turned around towards her. “I cannot do this to Cecilia. I know she and I are not formally betrothed but nevertheless...”
He did not have to finish the sentence, since Hester bent her head and nodded.
“Of course,” she muttered. “I should... This has been most enlightening.”
She hurried towards out the door and Flint forced his feet to stay rooted to the carpet for another five minutes before he dared move from the spot.