Page 35 of Indecently Daring

“Yes, but no one believed me. I’m far too impatient, and this blasted ankle has given me too long to think and…. Oh, I’m tired of just endlessly waiting, waiting to grow up, to come out, to get engaged, to get married. I want to live now, not at some distant point in the future.”

“But you’re only seventeen, Cat. Do you think it’s wise?”

The girl snorted. “When was I ever wise, may I ask? Ridiculous creature. Besides, I’m only seventeen for three more weeks, and just because I have my dare, it doesn’t mean I must do it at once. I can still wait a bit, but at least it will give me something to think about, to focus on and plan for. I want something to dream about. The season is fast approaching, and I know exactly how it will go and… well, I’m the most spoilt girl in all of creation, but it’s looking to be rather tedious.”

Alana nodded sympathetically. She knew exactly how it would go, too. Unlike her, Lady Catherine Barrington knew exactly how to behave in society when the need arose, and she would cause a sensation. Men would fall in love with her, battle for her attention, likely fight duels, write dubious poems, and throw pebbles at her window in the dead of night. She would never know a moment’s peace or have a sensible conversation because they’d all be so dazzled by her beauty they’d not bother noticing the fact she was quirky and funny, and clever and bold, and rather wicked when the mood took her.

“All right, then,” Alana said, laughing as Cat’s expression changed in an instant from gloomy introspection to one of exuberant delight. Even Alana felt a little winded by the sight of that joyous smile. The poor fellows didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, huzzah! Thank you, dearest, dearest, Lana. You are the very best of friends.”

Alana snorted and gave her attention to the reins as she navigated out of the driveway and onto the road into the village. “Don’t pour the butter boat over me, you horrid girl. I only know I shan’t have a quiet moment until I agree.”

“Am I so very dreadful?” she asked, affecting a pout.

“Yes.”

Cat returned a devilish grin. “Oh, good.”

Alana drove them to the village and Cat waited in the cart, holding the reins while Alana popped into the bakery. She came out again holding a small, wrapped package tied with string.

“What did you get?” Cat asked, taking the parcel, and sniffing it with interest.

“Two currant buns. They’re still warm,” Alana said, grinning at her. “I’ll drive over to that little clearing we passed along the wooded track, and with a bit of luck, we can stuff our faces with no one seeing.”

Cat laughed. “An excellent plan, I’m famished. Onwards,” she commanded, flinging out an arm like a general commanding troops.

“Barmy,” Alana muttered, shaking her head.

She found the little clearing where they could eat their buns without disapproving glances and settled the pony while Cat unwrapped the paper. Both girls tugged off their gloves, so they didn’t get spoiled. She handed the first bun to Alana and then bit into her own with a sigh of contentment.

“Bliss,” she said happily.

Alana smiled, turning her bun back and forth in her hands and studying it as she remembered Reverend Martin last night and the pleased sigh he’d let out when he’d tasted the stew she had made. He had closed his eyes, savouring every bite, and Alana had studied him covertly. She had known he was a handsome man, obviously, but seeing him at the kitchen table, in need of a shave and with his hair a mess, weariness written in every line of his posture… somehow he’d became even more beautiful. It felt like a privilege to see him that way, as if he had given her a glimpse of something secret and precious. She had never seen him anything but immaculate before then. Not that she believed he was vain, or that he primped for hours before a looking glass, only that he tried so hard to be good at everything. He tried so hard to be good.

He had failed last night. She had seen the horror in his eyes the second after he’d kissed her, the precise moment when he’d realised what a dreadful mistake he’d made. It had cut her to the quick, snuffing out the tiny spark of hope that had lit the instant his lips had met hers, because that kiss…. Oh, that kiss had shaken her to her core. She could still feel the memory of it, a fizzing sensation in her blood, tension in her bones and the most peculiar fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach. For one brief, dazzling moment her soul had sung out, and she had known she had been right to break her engagement with Ollie because that kiss, that had been what was missing. That kiss had changed her, rearranged her in ways she did not yet understand, and yet he had looked at her with horror and she had known at once what he was going to say.

She’d tried to stop him, tried to avoid hearing the words so she could at least walk away with a warm feeling, knowing it would never happen again but that it had been dazzling. But no. He’d had to open his big mouth and apologise, and tell her it was a mistake, and the moment had been ruined. Yet she could not stop thinking about it, could not stop the peculiar fizzing and fluttering and the anticipation of seeing him again and… oh, this was dreadful!

Alana scowled, suddenly furious with Reverend bloody Martin and wishing he were there so she could kick him again. Harder this time. The brute.

“Did it offend you?”

“Huh?” Alana’s head snapped up, and she turned to see Cat giving her an odd look.

“The currant bun. Did it offend you? Offer you insult? For you’ve been giving it the evil eye for the past five minutes and I’m quite at a loss, unless it made some gross breach of etiquette.”

Alana rolled her eyes and took a large bite out of the bun, chewing so she wouldn’t have to answer.

“I will get the truth from you,” Cat replied crossly. “I just know you’re hiding something and it’s terribly unfair, because I told you everything that happened with Kilbane.”

Alana took another bite.

Cat scowled at her. “You’re mean.”

They sat in silence while Alana chewed her way through the bun, feeling the wretched thing lodge in her chest. She was too overwrought to digest anything, and too aware of her careening emotions to confide in Cat, at least for now. If she told her now, Alana was horribly afraid she would cry, and either Cat would think the vicar had assaulted her and taken liberties, or it would seem as if it had been something significant and her heart was breaking with unrequited love, and then Cat would want to discuss it endlessly and… and she could not cope with that. Once she had mentally filed that night in a box labelled things that might have been wonderful but were spoiled by an idiot male she might be calm enough to confide in her friend.

“Oh, Lana, look who it is.”