Light seeped into Fallon’s chamber helped by the ray of sunshine ray filtering through the gap in her curtains. Her eyelids fluttered open. She could tell it was still early. The maids would just have woken up to start preparing breakfast and going about their daily chores. Fallon could hear the birds outside. They were rather noisy this morning, still she smiled. She always harboured a secret desire to understand their incessant morning chatter. What were they saying to each other? Where they discussing breakfast? Because they could not discuss what social functions to attend or what gowns to wear, she smiled to herself. Neither would they need to make secret plans to lay with the devil’s spawn. Warm heat stole to her cheeks. A deep sense of anticipation and anxiety rushed over her in equal measure. She tossed the coverlet aside, reached for the cord and pulled the bell string, summoning her maid.
‘Morning, Lady Fallon,’ Louis walked in with a cup of chocolate.
‘Morning Louis,’ Fallon rose from her bed, removed her night clothes and with the maid’s help, changed into a morning gown, suitable for walking.
She needed Louis to deliver a discreet letter to a certain rake. The previous night Fallon had sat at her escritoire, tensely opened the drawer and removed a pen and writing paper. After five tries, Fallon settled for the one that was now tightly sealed with wax in an unmarked envelope. The letter could not be sealed with the family insignia. Neither was the letter signed, thought it was addressed to Braeden Kerrich, Lord of Hampton and marked “private.” Fallon trusted her maid. When she was younger, her trustworthy maid had rescued her from many a harrowing situations. Mostly it had been adventurous scrapes that more suited exploratory boys, not a young lady who was daughter to the Baron Fulham.
Though none previously measured as scandalous as what she had planned for today. Did propriety not dictate that it was the gentleman who was supposed to express an interest in a lady and not the other way around? Was it not the rules of the ton that expressly forbid a lady and a gentleman to touch intimately; or letter writing; nor under any circumstances were the couple to be left alone, for that matter. Yet the rebellious Lady Fallon quite flagrantly would have transgressed at least three of the said rules by the end of today.
Fallon would have given anything to be present when Braeden opened the letter. She had three instructions. Braeden had to wear his most formal attire. Secondly he was to be on foot at the entrance to the Vauxhall Gardens and thirdly he was to without a word to the coach driver, hop onto the chaise that would be on hand to pick him up an deposit him at their rendezvous.
It was not too difficult to procure a chaise when one displayed a few sovereign coins. What would Braeden say when all Fallon’s clandestine planning was going to result in an unused barn that she often frequented, when she desired solitude. Nobody had ever happened upon her there previously. She would surrender her innocence to Braeden there on the unused, yet habitable hay. Fallon laughed softly. Had Hampton ever indulged in such tardy affairs or was that below his dignity?
It was not more than fifteen minutes if she walked briskly from her home. She had paid a lot of coin to have Braeden brought to her. It would have attracted attention if he would arrive there in his own marked carriage. And it would be a dead giveaway as to what a rake like him was doing in an abandoned barn. Curious onlookers would most definitely stop to investigate not what Braeden was doing there but with whom he was there.
Fallon slipped on a cardigan. It was early, but she desired to take in the fresh morning air. Louis, had slipped away already to deliver the secret message. Most people took to walking to clear their heads, but Fallon’s head needed no clearing. She was determined to meet Braeden and experience with him the intimate ways between a man and a woman. No other gentleman would do. It had to be that rake of the ton. It was him she wanted. Just the thought of his arms around her, his lips on her shoulder, his warm breath against her wanton lips heightened her desire. Yes, she would do it, today. She would surrender her virtue to Hampton. She knew he would show up. He was the type of man that would not say no to a challenge, neither would he turn down an opportunistic invitation from a lady. That is why he was a rake.
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The Rebellious Lady Fallon: Historical FictionHistorical Fiction
Lady Fallon Brightmore secretly thought the Earl of Hampton, Braeden Kerrich, rather dashing. But at their first encounter, it was to her elder, fair sister that he smiled with the attraction a gentleman has for a lady. Lady Fallon felt crushed an...