One Night of Passion by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley [Ridley, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

It can’t be more than kisses.

Thad was trying very hard to return coherent greetings to all the friends he passed as he made his way through the Vauxhall pleasure gardens, but all he could think of were the last words Priscilla had spoken.

Kisses. Plural. That was a positive sign, was it not?

She had not said, “We’ll never repeat this” or “What was I thinking?” but rather seemed to imply that as long as he could content himself with clandestine kisses, Thad could have as many of them as he liked.

He very much liked. He could think of nothing else in the days since the Everett ball.

Their letters had not slowed in number, but of course made no mention of how it had felt to finally find themselves in each other’s arms. That was not the sort of missive Priscilla would wish intercepted by her grandmother, and if Thad were honest, scandal was not his first preference on how to visit the altar.

When he wed, it would be to a woman who chose him, not one who was forced to settle for him. Perhaps that meant Priscilla wasn’t the one.

He felt more entwined with her with each exchanged letter. Watching her sail off for Africa would wrench a heart-sized hole in his chest. But he would not force her to pretend something she did not feel. To accept a life she did not want. He would rather be lonely forever than ruin two lives with one marriage.

So, yes. He could console himself with kisses. Hot, sweet, drugging kisses. The sort of kisses that made a man wish he did long for scurvy on the high seas or whatever else it took to keep her hands about his neck and her soft curves locked tight against him.

“Missed you at the Wicked Duke this week, old chap.” A vicar clapped Thad on the shoulder. “Weren’t you meant to debate with Barrett?”

Was he?

“Next time,” Thad said vaguely.

He could not recall having promised such a thing. For the past fortnight, he’d only accepted invitations if there was a chance of Priscilla being in attendance. Only women with little or no reputation stepped foot in the tavern.

Then again, Priscilla was far from the usual missish debutante. She was just as likely to burst into the Wicked Duke on the back of a camel as anything else. Perhaps he should give up on pleasure gardens at once, and see if she—

“Middleton,” called another friend. “Going to Tattersall’s tomorrow to see the new racehorses?”

“Doubtful,” he called back.

Unlike the Wicked Duke, Tattersall’s didn’t allow women at all, regardless of how tattered the reputation. He would stick to the places Priscilla was known to frequent.

Tonight, in any case, he had promised his cousin Diana to find her near the supper-boxes. The sun was setting, which meant she and her husband would be finishing their meal.

Thad did not hurry. The Colehavens would stay for the orchestra, and besides, the evening was too fine for barreling through it with one’s head pointed at the ground.

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