Petticoats and Promises by Friday Penelope

Author:Friday, Penelope [Friday, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2015-02-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

April

The kisses we shared that day were not our last.

We were discreet. Kate was old enough and wise enough to know the value of discretion; I had learned that particular lesson all too well. A certain amount of spoken and physical affection was acceptable between women, but with my past history—with the spectre of Lady Maria before me in my mind (in my sight, too often) I dared do nothing that might possibly lead to gossip about my friendship with Kate. Nevertheless, I felt somehow younger, lighter. The burden of my ruined love affair with Clara had been lifted a little, not only by this new relationship but also—perhaps mostly—through my confession. Like the relief that follows a boil lanced, the pain had lessened with my acknowledgment of its existence. Plus, of course, every week I felt more at home in the fashionable whirl of the London season.

And there was Kate, and Kate’s kisses. Oh, how wonderful it felt to be kissed, to have that moment when our lips touched and a tingle of lightning flashed through my body! Kate’s kisses were not Clara’s, and they had a different effect: I found myself less desperate, warmer. I felt my body coming slowly alive as her mouth found mine. She would touch my arm, even when we were in public, and the sensation of her fingertips stayed even after she had moved her hand away. When we held each other, in our few moments of privacy—oh! Kate laughed at me as I trembled in her arms. She knew we could go no further than a few stolen kisses, but we both wanted so much more.

The opportunities for sharing such moments were limited. Neither of us lived alone. Kate had what she laughingly called “a respectable lady” to act as a companion, though it was clear that she was carelessly fond of Miss Rigby and, I suspected, had invited her to live with her to prevent the lady from falling into poverty. I, of course, was a visitor in my aunt’s house, where we might at any moment be interrupted by butler or family alike.

I thought of Kate as I lay in my bed, alone.

My aunt continued to be a delightful hostess and companion, and found her greatest joy in encouraging me to enjoy myself. With Anna married and living so far away, Aunt Hester had expected to spend her first season since her daughter’s coming out without an eligible young lady to chaperone. Instead, she had me—and I couldn’t doubt her pleasure in my company. Our time was filled with not only balls and evenings at Almack’s; there were breakfasts, rout parties, visits to the theatre: a veritable feast of dissipation. Indeed, so many nights were spent on entertainment that I sometimes privately longed for an evening at home. It seemed I had more of my mother in me than I realised, though like her sister I still found a good deal to enjoy.

My greatest happiness, however, came from my

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