A Gentlewoman's Pleasure Read Free Page A

and then perhaps we can return to these negotiations when you’re fully restored and in possession of your judgment.”
    “Very well…” She did indeed still feel a little weary, despite everything. His low voice was so soothing, almost that of a mesmerist. “But first, there’s one thing I must know, sir.”
    “Anything.”
    “May I know your name?”
    They both laughed again. It was so absurd. They were still strangers.
    “My name is Ethan Oakley, and I’m at your service.”
    I hope so… I really hope so…
    “May I know your name too?” he continued, slipping his hand beneath the covers, finding hers and drawing it out, then kissing it courteously.
    “Lucy Dawson. Miss Lucy Dawson… But please, do call me ‘Lucy.’ I think we’re a little way past the formal niceties now, don’t you think?”
    Again came that beautiful, desirable smile, so vivid in her mind that Lucy’s imagination filled in the details for her defective vision.
    “Indeed, Lucy. Indeed. Now, please, try to rest.” He returned her tingling hand beneath the bedclothes, and tucked them up around her. “Is there anyone I should notify as to your whereabouts? I gather from your portmanteau that you’re on your way to a visit.”
    Already sleepy again, lulled by his calm presence, Lucy struggled to think straight. Yes, Matilda must be worried about her, and wondering where she’d got to.
    “Yes, my cousin, Mrs. Matilda Courtney of Bentall House. She’s expecting me.”
    Ethan’s hand settled over her hidden one. “I know Bentall House. I’ll arrange to have a note sent, saying you’re safe but have been delayed. Is that all right?”
    “Yes, thank you. That would be very kind.” Her lids drooped. “Very kind indeed.”
    “Rest now,” said Ethan, low and soft, then with one last reassuring pat, he withdrew, pulling the curtains as he went. As if bewitched by him, Lucy found herself slipping back into sleep, her body gently glowing—with anticipation.
    When she awoke again it was morning at last, but Ethan was nowhere to be seen. So pulling on his overcoat and donning her glasses, Lucy got up to explore the cottage and the backyard, feeling entirely steady on her feet this time.
    In the full light of day, she discovered that the cottage backed on to a stand of thick, deep woods and, along with vegetables growing in neat rows, she found an extensive herb garden, also well tended. The source of his restorative drinks, no doubt. It seemed strange that a young man should dabble in natural medicines, but even knowing him so slightly, she sensed he was unusual.
    The dwelling itself was a single room, clean yet cluttered, the space filled with heavy old furniture that was gleaming and well cared for, including several bookshelves crammed with many volumes. A lot of the chair backs were adorned with items of her clothing, and more of it, including her chemise and drawers, was drying on a rack set close to a big old range.
    On the table lay evidence of her rescuer’s profession. Across one half, what looked like blueprints, depicting a building and filled with notations, were spread wide.
    Are you a designer, my mysterious knight errant? Or perhaps an architect?
    It seemed so, and curiosity flared in her bosom, along with the desire that seemed unabated despite his absence.
    He’d left her food, too, and there was tea in a big earthenware pot. The latter proved to be surprisingly fresh and unstewed as she sipped it to accompany thickly sliced fresh bread, spread with country butter and raspberry jam. Famished, she ate several pieces. It had been nigh on twenty-four hours since she’d last eaten, in what now seemed like an entirely different lifetime.
    This is my adventure. My time spent away from the world and what’s expected of me. Here I can do anything, and be a different person.
    Suddenly, she thought of the Ladies’ Sewing Circle, and her friends who told such tall tales of their supposedly naughty exploits. What would they