Dear Diary,
I cannot understand the obsession
with kissing. After having tried it,
I find it decidedly unpleasant!
Having made a conscious effort to enjoy herself, the evening was turning out much better than she had feared. The musical evening was a pleasant affair with a skilled Italian singer visiting London. During a brief break, while they served refreshments in a nearby receiving room, Angel enjoyed a moment of alone time as the other guests had left the music room.
Being able to sit by herself was pure bliss after spending a good hour in an overcrowded room. The light-green walls gave the room a light feel, and with one wall covered by tall windows facing the garden, it didn't make her skin crawl the way some enclosed spaces did. Especially now, when she was alone rather than stuck in there with everyone else. A pianoforte stood before the window, facing the chairs and small sofas that had been carried into the room for the audience to sit on.
Even Philip had been pleasant that evening, which she considered a small victory and proof that if she was polite and kind to him, he would return the favour. On her insistence, he had gone with the other guests to get some refreshments, and he had promised to bring her back a glass of lemonade. All too soon, everyone started pouring back into the room, signalling that the intermission was coming to an end.
A moment later, Philip returned with her promised lemonade and sat down on her left. James, who had come in with him, sat down on her right. Taking the glass from Philip, she thanked him before taking a sip. She made a face as it wasn't lemonade at all but punch. She never drank alcohol, but her throat was dry, so she continued sipping the drink. Her brother and Philip discussed some matter she had no interest in over her head, so she watched the guests as they filled the room. It was always interesting to observe people. Much more preferable to interacting with them.
Jessica, Nathaniel, and Mrs Grey entered the room. Her friend caught sight of her and gave her a quick wave. Soon, the lights in the back were extinguished to give more effect to the singer who had returned to finish her performance. Angel enjoyed the rest of the show, captivated by the woman's beautiful, rich voice. The punch made her head feel pleasantly tingly. During the show, she felt Philip's hand on her knee in the semi-darkness, and she slowly and discreetly moved it back to his own lap. It was highly improper for him to be touching her, especially in public.
She glanced around to make sure no one had seen the inappropriate display, and her eyes met Nathaniel's. He stood on the side of the room, having given his seat to an older lady. His eyes glimmered darkly in the light from the candles in the front of the room, and her face flushed. Had he seen Philip touching her? Staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Nathaniel, she could still sense his heated gaze on her, and the knowledge that he was looking made her stomach do an awkward somersault.
Once the singer finished her set, everyone left the music room to enjoy some social mingling in the receiving room, where more refreshments were being served. Angel followed James and Philip but hung back when they went to speak to the Italian singer.
Jessica caught sight of her and left her aunt and brother to come over, handing her another glass of punch. "That was an excellent performance, was it not?"
"Yes, I thought it was wonderful." Angel smiled, fanning herself with her carved ivory fan. The room was sweltering from the considerable amount of people squeezed into such a small space. She took another sip of the drink, quite enjoying the buzz it had brought on. "It's the first time I've heard a professional singer."
"Really?" Jessica looked up from digging through her reticule.
"You must remember that I have only been in London on brief visits before. No time for the opera or anything such."
"I keep forgetting that you've spent your entire life holed up in the country," Jessica said with a teasing grin, then made a little sound of triumph as she pulled a fan out.
"From what I've heard, you've spent most of your time on your family's country estate as well. So no pointing fingers," Angel replied in mock offence.
"She certainly should not. I remember the days when she would run barefoot over the estate with no regard for decency."
Angel looked up to find that Lord Wortham had joined them, a charming smile on his lips. While she doubted anyone could be as handsome as Nathaniel, she had to admit that the earl was very handsome with his dark brown hair and clear blue eyes. He had a roguish charm that was difficult to resist.
"Lord Wortham," Jessica muttered in greeting, flicking her fan open and hiding her face behind it as she used it to cool herself.
"Lady Jessica," he replied smoothly, executing a smart bow. Turning to Angel, he smiled. "Miss Grafton. It's a pleasure to meet you again. May I say that you look stunning as usual?"
Her cheeks heated. As if she wasn't feeling hot enough already. "Thank you, my lord." She turned to Jessica, her interest piqued. "Barefoot?"
"I certainly never did," Jessica said with a huff, but she wasn't looking at Wortham.
He chuckled. "I distinctly remember it. Surely you are not implying that I'm a liar?"
Jessica sighed in exasperation. "It was once. One. Single. Time."
"Then I'm glad I crossed your path that day," Wortham said teasingly. "You have very adorable feet."
For the first time that Angel could remember, she saw Jessica's face flush red as she stared at Wortham.
"Are you bothering my sister again?"
The earl turned his head to grin at Nathaniel, who had just joined them. "Yes, but it is so enjoyable."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"You never let me have any fun," Wortham complained.
"Not at my sister's expense, no."
"I shall look for entertainment elsewhere then." With a grin, Wortham bowed and left them, walking over to speak to the beautiful Italian singer.
"He's such a rake," Jessica said in disgust as she watched him flirt with the woman.
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at his sister. "What do you know about rakes?"
"Please. I'm eighteen years old, Nathaniel, not eight."
"I'd rather you were eight," he muttered.
Angel excused herself and made her way outside onto the terrace at the back of the house. The room was stifling hot from the crush of people, and her fan was doing little to cool her down. As always, it was a relief to get away from the crowd, and the evening air felt good against her flushed face. Tall windows covered most of the house, allowing her to see what was going on inside. Having little interest, she moved away from the windows to a part of the terrace outside some unused, unlit rooms.
Walking up to the terrace railing, she looked out over the garden, remembering another evening not too long ago on a similar terrace. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life at the mere memory, even though nothing had happened. Nathaniel might have looked as if he was about to kiss her, but she couldn't imagine that he ever would. And she shouldn't want him to. Based on her experience, kisses were not for her. And yet... A noise behind her made her turn around, and the fluttering inside increased for a moment as a tall shape moved towards her. Her heart plummeted as Philip came out from the shadows.
"Philip," she murmured. "I went outside for a spot of fresh air."
He nodded silently and came over to stand beside her. There were a few moments of silence as they both stared out over the garden. They had not spoken since he had left her in the park the previous day.
Finally, he spoke. "I wanted to apologise," he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. He had never apologised to her before, and she wasn't quite sure how to react. Usually, whenever his temper made him say something unpleasant, he would simply act as if it had never happened when they met again. Maybe he realised this time had been worse than most.
"For what happened in the park," he qualified. He turned to face her. "It was wrong of me to leave you the way I did. You made me so angry when you first said you didn't think we are a good match, and then that you don't enjoy kissing me."
She nodded slowly, and he continued. "I came back for you a short while later, intending to apologise and bring you home. But you were gone."
"Lord Pensington took me home."
"So I heard." There was a distinct tone of dislike in his voice, but he didn't make an issue out of it. "I hope you can forgive me."
He reached out to touch her face, and she had to fight the immediate urge to flinch. "I forgive you," she said, though she wasn't sure she truly did. But her family expected her to marry this man, so she must do her best to keep their relationship pleasant. Smiling, he bowed his head to place a kiss on her lips. She stood still, keeping herself calm. Surely she would feel something if only she tried? Everyone obsessed about kissing, so it couldn't be all bad.
The kiss was hard, crushing her lips against her teeth, and the grip on her arms was almost painful. Suddenly, she felt the tip of his tongue tap insistently against her closed mouth, and she took an involuntary step away from him.
"What's the matter?" he complained as he released her.
"I... I don't enjoy that," she whispered miserably.
"Then there is something wrong with you," he snapped. "You must be made of ice. I would get more response from a statue."
"That's not very fair of you." She felt her lower lip quivering and tried to calm herself, but his words stung. Especially since she had thought something similar.
He looked at her with his cold blue eyes narrowed. "If you cannot learn to accept a man's kisses, you will never find a husband. You're a cold fish, Angel. It's not very attractive."
With those parting words, he turned on his heel and left her alone on the terrace. She stared after him with his words still ringing in her ears. What was wrong with her? Why did she not enjoy kissing? Taking a shaking breath, she left the terrace and stepped into the unlit garden where she could be alone with no one seeing her. She found a stone bench and sat down with her hands clasped in her lap, while a few errant tears trickled down her cheeks.
She was such a failure. Her parents would be so disappointed in her. They had wanted the two families joined through marriage. Aunt Christine always reminded her of how her parents and the Chettishams had been the best of friends. Even if she could learn to accept his advances, Philip didn't seem to enjoy kissing her, either. What kind of woman was she if she couldn't even entice the man she was meant to marry? Maybe her aunt was right. Maybe she truly was strange.
"Angel?"
Quickly wiping the tears off her face, she looked up to see who had called her name. Nathaniel stood in the middle of the garden, his gaze searching for her, but the shadows of the two trees by the bench hid her from view.
"Angel?" he repeated quietly. "Are you here?"
"I'm here," she replied just as quietly and stood.
The movement caught his eye, and he walked over to her. He looked down at her in the semi-darkness with a slight frown. Before she could say anything, he reached out and touch her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"You've been crying," he said. "What did he do?"
She gave him a wry smile. "Nothing. Are you always going to come charging to my rescue?"
"It would appear I'm your knight in shining armour." He chuckled, the warm sound soothing her.
"I couldn't imagine a better one." She regretted the words as soon as she said them.
He fell silent, his eyes taking in her appearance. "Why are you sad?"
"It's silly, really."
"Tell me."
She looked up at him, her eyes watering even as she tried to hold back. "I'm a failure," she blurted out.
He frowned. "Why would you think that?"
"No man will ever want me." She turned her back to him while wiping a few tears away from her face. Crying in front of others wasn't exactly on her list of favourite things to do. "Philip said I'm like a cold fish."
"Chettisham's the cold fish," Nathaniel muttered. "But why would he say that of you?"
She blushed. "I..." She gave him an embarrassed glance over her shoulder. "I don't enjoy it when he kisses me. I think I might be broken."
His immediate chuckle rankled her, and she turned around to glare at him. He held his hands up. "I beg your pardon," he said, still smiling. "But, Angel... I can assure you that you're not broken."
"You cannot know that," she pointed out. "Philip doesn't seem to enjoy kissing me, either. Something is obviously not right. Something must be wrong with me."
Nathaniel shook his head. "I'm certain there is nothing wrong with you, Angel. You shouldn't worry. I don't see how Chettisham could elicit a response from anyone, he—"
"He's quite handsome," she cut in. "Several ladies have told me so. Saying how lucky I am."
He snorted. "I suppose he's not ugly, but it's not all about looks. His personality leaves much to be desired."
"You do not like him?" She'd sensed it before, but this was the first time he'd said something outright.
"It's not my place," he muttered. "But no, Chettisham and I do not get along. However, I know you intend to marry him, and you make your own choices."
"It's hardly a choice."
They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. There was a part of her that wished he would tell her not to marry Philip. Everyone in her life was so set on this match, it would have been nice to have someone who wasn't as keen. Jessica was the only one who had spoken against the match, believing Angel could do better.
"In any case." Nathaniel cleared his throat and ran a hand through his dark hair. "What I was going to say was that I am certain nothing is wrong with you. I imagine Philip is the only man you've kissed, so you have nothing to compare to. It truly might be that the issue lies with him."
"That's it!" she exclaimed, making him raise his eyebrows at her outburst. "I must kiss another man to know if Philip is the issue, or if I don't enjoy any kisses."
"I don't think that's a good idea." He sounded hesitant, but with her head buzzing from two glasses of punch, she rather thought it was a brilliant idea. "It's not very proper for a young lady to go around kissing scores of men."
"Of course not. I would only need to kiss one other man."
"Even that has the potential to ruin you."
Her mood dropped. "I did not think of that."
"Good. I'm glad we've put that idea behind us." He smiled.
"Unless..." An idea had taken root in her mind.
"Unless what?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as she gave him an imploring look.
"You could kiss me," she quickly blurted out before she lost her nerve. How she could be so brazen, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the punch. But at that moment, it felt imperative that she find out if there was something wrong with her, or if she just couldn't bring herself to accept Philip. She needed to know if she was broken.
Nathaniel stared at her as if she had sprouted two heads, making her doubt the wisdom of her plan.
"I beg your pardon?" he finally choked out.
"It's not such a terrible idea." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. "We are friends, are we not?"
"Yes," he hedged. "But—"
"And as my friend," she cut him off, "you would never dream of ruining my reputation by telling anyone. And I trust you."
He ran a hand through his black hair, mussing it up. No longer looking at her, he was focusing on a spot somewhere two feet above her head. "I can't kiss you, Angel."
Her face fell. "You can't?"
Of course he couldn't. What had she been thinking? He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, and one of the most sought-after bachelors in London. He could have his pick of ladies to kiss. He wouldn't want to kiss her. She was a country bumpkin. Her aunt was right. She was a nobody who should be so lucky if the match her late parents had made for her would deign to marry her.
"Of course you can't," she said, more to herself than to him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea, and she felt foolish for even having suggested it. What must he think of her? "You would never kiss someone like me. I'm not popular enough. Not attractive enough."
"I did not say that." Nathaniel gave Angel a frustrated look. Did she not understand what she was asking of him? Did she not know how desperately he wanted to do exactly as she asked?
"You did not have to." She looked so sad and dejected that it nearly broke his heart.
"You're my friend's sister." It was a reasonable excuse, and at least partly why he could never kiss her.
"I'm not asking you to ruin me," she muttered, kicking at a tuft of grass with the toe of her slipper. "All I'm asking for is a single kiss."
He knew he was staring, but he wasn't sure how to get out of this situation without hurting her feelings. His eyes darted to her lips, and he mentally kicked himself. That did nothing for his resolve. There were few things he wanted more than to oblige her request. He had wanted to kiss her for some time now, but he was an honourable man, and he'd never kiss a friend's sister. Especially not someone he might catch feelings for.
"I just need to know," she pleaded. "If I feel nothing when you kiss me, then I know it's me. Everyone else seems to enjoy kissing, but I don't."
"Who is everyone?" he muttered. "Your friends are all innocents, like you, as far as I'm aware."
She waved a hand in the air. "Everyone. The world in general." Her shoulders sloped as her gaze dropped to her feet. "I just wanted to know if I'm broken."
Bloody hell. He raked a hand through his hair. At this rate, he'd go bald soon.
"Angel, I can't." There was a note of desperation in his voice as his resolve quickly withered in the face of her utter dejection. Her argument even started sounding logical. It was only one kiss. What harm could it do?
She tilted her head to look up at him, her large eyes catching the moonlight filtering through the leaves of the trees, making the tears gathering in the corners glitter. He fought back the desperate urge to bend down and kiss her right then. What he should do was run in the opposite direction, away from temptation. He took one step away from her, but when her eyes lowered in wounded silence at his retreat, there was no turning back.
With a groan, he took the two steps separating them. One kiss. He could do one kiss. Stopping right in front of her, with only a scant foot separating their bodies, he gazed down at her.
"I'll do it," he said hoarsely, hoping he wouldn't regret it. "One kiss. And you have to tell me to stop if you don't enjoy it."
She nodded, her face blank. Then she closed her eyes, her lashes resting against her pale cheeks. He watched her for a moment and her rosy lips parted slightly, her breath coming in quick puffs. As he leaned closer, she shivered and her eyes squeezed shut tightly. She must expect an onslaught.
"Open your eyes," he ordered grimly. She did, blinking to focus, and her eyes widened when she discovered him only a few inches away from her face.
"Have you changed your mind?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.
He shook his head. "No." It was the truth. Now that he'd decided that he would be allowed one kiss, there was nothing that could stop him.
"Then why did you ask me to open my eyes?"
"You looked as if you were awaiting the hangman's snare." He chuckled.
"Oh." Her cheeks stained red. "I'm sorry."
"That's all right."
He cupped her cheeks and wiped his thumbs over her skin to remove the stains left by her tears. Then he traced the outline of her eyebrows, followed by the shape of her nose, to finally softly caress her lips with the pad of his thumb. During the entire time, he held her gaze, and she seemed unable to look away.
When he leaned in a little closer, her eyes fluttered close, and she took a shaky breath as he whispered, "I'm going to kiss you now."
~~~~~~