Miss Lacey's Last Fling (A Regency Romance) by Hern Candice

Author:Hern, Candice [Hern, Candice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Candice Hern
Published: 2011-05-25T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

Rosie awoke the next morning with another pounding headache. Still not as severe as those she'd suffered at home, it nevertheless reminded her of how little time she had left. She curled up on the chaise near the fire and sat quietly for a half hour, sipping the tea Violet had brought.

Ignoring the pain in her head, she contemplated the activities of the evening before. To be perfectly truthful, she contemplated Max's kiss and little else. As enjoyable as the masquerade had been, nothing could compare with those precious moments in his arms. Every detail was recalled to mind: the softness of his lips, the expert way he used them, the taste of wine on his tongue, the caress of his hand against her back, the touch of his fingers in her hair.

Fanny had said the right man would make her feel exactly as she had felt last night with Max. What would her aunt say if she knew Rosie had found the right man, and it was none other than her late lover's son?

Thank heaven she had lived long enough to experience Max's kiss. She would hate to have missed such a moment. And yet, Rosie could not help but think of the other things Fanny had told her, about making love. What were the chances Rosie would have the opportunity to experience that pleasure as well? With Max?

Improper and shocking as such thoughts were, she could not deny having them. She knew that making love with Max would be even more wondrous than kissing him, but also knew it was a futile dream.

Fanny had said it was best when one was in love. Well, Rosie was as close to being in love as she'd ever been, but the same was not true of Max. He'd told her with pride that he'd never been in love, hinting that it was something to be avoided at all costs. It was hopeless to believe she could change his mind in so short a time.

The headaches came now almost every morning, and Rosie was fairly certain her mother's, though more severe, had never been as frequent.

There was not much time left.

No time to sit around and coddle the wretched headache. She rose slowly from the chaise, gauging the pain to be subsiding, and began to prepare for the day.

Fanny joined her in the morning room some time later, looking stylish as ever in a dress of primrose floret sarsnet flounced with French trimming. She asked about the masquerade and teased Rosie about overindulging. "How you manage to avoid having a thick head every morning I shall never know, what with all the wine and champagne and such. Never rise before noon myself when I've had more than three glasses the night before. But you are looking especially cheerful this morning, my dear, and just the tiniest bit smug."

Rosie grinned, thinking how hopelessly transparent she must be. And here she thought she had been playing the role of Rosalind the Sophisticate so well.

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