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Linda owed Marti an apology. Before lunch with her whole family was even finished, he escaped from the table with barely an excuse, and by the time she’d managed to extract herself to follow him, he was gone. It took her no time to find him, as she headed directly to the most obvious place ... the stables, where she found him brushing Turpin.
“Marti.”
He didn’t look up.
“I’m really sorry. I should never have done this without discussing it with you first. I didn’t think.” She should’ve realised that all society went to church to hear all the latest gossip and the reading of the banns would bring out everyone’s curiosity, which meant people would connect Marti to the Babbitt family who’d lived next door to her when she’d been a child. It made their sudden reconnection easier to explain; people had taken that at face value, but she worried about the implications for Marti and who he used to be.
He leaned against Turpin’s shoulder and glanced at her. “Neither did I.”
“Can I come in?” She didn’t want to have this discussion over a stable door.
“Of course. It’s your father’s stable.”
“You are part of the family now too.” She slipped inside the door, making sure it was latched behind her. Marti didn’t answer, just kept brushing Turpin’s already gleaming coat. She rubbed Turpin on the nose. He breathed his fluttery horse breath on her hand, and she leaned against Turpin’s head for a moment, collecting her breath. This apology mattered and she had to get it right before they faced the church crowd again.
With a deep breath, she stood up straight and stared at Marti. “To me you’ll always be Marti.”
He paused mid-brush stroke across Turpin’s coat for a moment, then continued working as if she hadn’t spoken.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I forgot that everyone is a gossip. I didn’t think about how they’d hear your surname and want to know which Babbitt you are connected to and how that might potentially be awkward for you. I’m so sorry that we didn’t discuss this before we had the banns read. I was so focussed on being free from Sir Bartleby that I didn’t think about the potential harm for you.”
“Stop saying sorry.” Marti turned to look at her. “I forgot too. I didn’t expect to see old Mrs Marchant and have her look at me as if she remembered.”
“You do have the Babbitt look about you, but the story about being a distant cousin was inspired.”
“Doris thought of it, I just forgot because...”
She wasn’t sure how he could forget about something so crucially connected to his identity. “How?”
“I find crowds a bit overwhelming, and it makes it hard to remember things.” Marti returned to brushing Turpin for a while and she waited. It wasn’t natural for her to wait, but this felt important. It mattered to listen and let Marti explain this to her.
“I’ve always struggled in crowds, even before, but now it is worse because there’s a risk that someone like Mrs Marchant will look at me and see through who I am now to who I was.”
“But you are Marti. It’s your name of choice and—” She paused, realising she didn’t need to convince him.
“People don’t like it when someone isn’t who they seem.”
She could see how that might cause issues, except this was different. “Do they not understand?”
“No. People would prefer that I fit into the identity that they understand. To wear pants and dress as a man, to be a man... It makes me into someone unnatural.”
“Maybe they are jealous. At first, I was jealous that you got to have all the advantages in society that men have.” She wasn’t anymore. “I quickly realised that was silly. Being a man doesn’t fit who I am, and any jealousy I had at your advantages disappeared.” She paused, staring at him, but he kept his gaze on his horse.
“Listening to you talk makes me understand how brave you are to be the man that you are. Any advantages—” She wanted to hug up and hold him, but she didn’t think he would appreciate the fuss.
Marti snorted. “Only exist if no one works it out. It’s conditional.”
“I’m...” Sorry. She was sorry that she was only beginning to understand him and the challenges he faced. With a deep breath in, she tried to focus on this moment where it was just the two of them, learning about each other.
“If you apologise again—” Marti interrupted. “I’m going to...”
“What? Kiss me?” She stared at the straw on the stable floor because she would never be so forward with anyone else, but this was Marti and he’d been so open about himself with her that she trusted him. He shuffled his feet and she lifted her head to look at him. A bright flush was painted across his cheeks and she smiled.
“I’m so very sorry.” She walked towards him with a half-smile—hopeful—as she took the couple of steps from Turpin’s head to where Marti stood at Turpin’s flank, brushing him. She reached up to touch his bright cheeks. “We are almost married now.”
His eyes widened. “They’ve read the banns once.” He swallowed, his throat shifting. “Aren’t you supposed to be innocent?”
“No.” She loved the way his skin was smooth under her palm. “I’m supposed to appear innocent to counter Sir Bartleby’s claims. I don’t wish to be innocent, not with you. Please kiss me or I’ll be sorry again.” Her breath was ragged, shallow, and hopeful.
“We can’t have that, can we?” A bright light shone from his eyes, and he placed his hands lightly on her waist and pulled her closer. The gentle pressure of his hands sent a flush of heat over her skin, centring at the point of contact.
“Please.” She didn’t quite know what she was asking for. Her older sisters talked about the marriage bed but they always changed the subject when she’d entered the room, and she’d only overheard enough to know that it was sometimes beautiful and sometimes awkward or awful. The entire matter seemed terribly confusing. Marti leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, and all confusion disappeared as his gentle whimsical touch on her mouth was nothing like the way she’d ever been touched before. Instinctually she reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him closer. The press of his lips connected them and her body pulsed with energy; desire, as if she were suddenly much warmer and she wanted to fan her face. It was sensual and incredible, and she suddenly knew why kissing was frowned upon before marriage because if she’d known it would feel like this, she might’ve wanted to be kissed before now. A little flicker in her head felt like a warning that it wouldn’t be this good with anyone else, that this kiss was wonderful because Marti was her person.
“Linda.” His voice rasped as he pulled back an inch. Too far, even though the tips of their noses were still touching.
“More, please.” She was caught between not knowing and wanting to know and wondering if it was just him or if this was how kisses always were. Marti slid his hand up her back and she leaned against his touch. He kissed her again, a glorious heady feeling surrounding her as she copied the way he moved his lips against hers. He slipped his hand under her bonnet threading his fingers into her hair, and a bolt of energy cursed through her veins, culminating in her core, in that place between her legs that she touched sometimes at night when no one was around. This was better though, and she suddenly knew she wanted his hand there. Until now the idea that someone else might touch her there had repulsed her, and suddenly, she understood that it would never be this good with anyone else, that this was special because it was Marti, and she let herself fall into that knowledge.
“Linda? Can I?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know what he was asking but she wanted everything. With him and him only. He pushed his tongue between her lips, stroking her mouth with care and attention and she melted in his arms. She wanted to lie on the straw and have him push her body down.
Turpin shifted in the stall and they both stumbled a bit.
“We shouldn’t do this here.”
Her breath was heavy and rapid and all she could do was nod as he removed his hands from her body with one last caress.
“Marti.”
“Linda. We can’t.”
She glanced around. “We can. Just not here. I’ll come to your room tonight.”
He stared at her unblinking. “In your family’s house?”
“Yes. We are to be married. You can teach me how to be a good wife to you.”
He just shook his head and the wave of bravado disappeared.
“I like kissing you and I want to know more.”
“And you always get what you want?”
A cool wind made her shiver. “You think I’m a spoiled daughter of an industrialist?”
“I think it’s a good idea to wait, given all the attention that is on us with the rumours around Sir Bartleby.”
She wanted to stomp her foot and prove him right; that she was spoiled and she should get what she wanted. “Fine. Let’s talk about it tonight.”
“Linda. There is more to consider than just a few kisses.” He reached out and touched her fingers, a gentle connection that made her yearn for more. She nodded, turned away, and gave Turpin a good pat as she walked away, trying not to feel young and naïve and humiliated and rejected. Was she being too demanding?