the hour. It hurt. His grip was strong, and his scent tonight, Lucy noted as she struggled against his chest, something like wet wool and tallow. They’d kissed before, brief polite little salutes she never let deepen for fear he’d get carried away. There was no fear of that for her. But it was never like this, with him grinding his mouth against her lips trying to wedge them open by main force. She gritted her teeth and shoved.
“There!” he said, finally releasing her with every evidence of satisfaction. “That’s what was wrong,and now it’s right. Enough, Lucy, my girl,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I’ve asked for your hand before, now I think you need me to demand it.”
She stared at him. His dark face bore a look of triumph.
“Are you run mad?” she asked. “Or have you been drinking? What gives you the right to do that? Who gave you permission to mishandle me? What in God’s creation do you think you’re doing?”
She advanced on him, her voice rising with every word. It was his turn to stare. He stepped back as she came forward, retreating before her accusing pointed finger. She tapped the front of his jacket when he finally stopped, because the next step would have taken him right into the fire.
“What is the meaning of this, William Bellows?” she demanded.
“Well, I thought…I mean to say…Well, I have asked you to marry me time out of mind,” he said defensively. “We’ve known each other all these years, and there you were simpering like a girl for that Englishman, and we both know you’re a grown woman of thirty odd. Well, there it is,” he said, turning to aggression again, because it had sounded like whining, even to him. “Time for you to make up your mind, my girl. That fellow wants nothing but someone to warm his bed before he gets out of it and moves on to find another. He said as much. I thought you were better than that. I thought maybe you needed to hear I offer you more.”
“I am better than that,” she said, her eyes kindling with blue fury, “As you should know. If you don’t know the difference between flirtation and…If you thought I…!” She stamped her foot. “I will ask you to leave right now, William Bellows, without another word—if you ever want one from me again, much less aspire to my hand. Which I will keep at the end of my own sleeve, thank you very much. Oh! I am so angry at you!” she shouted. “Good night!”
“Lucy…”
“I said, good night.”
He gave her a curt bow, spun on his heel and left.
She stood rigid, hearing him telling the salesman he had to leave and so couldn’t play cards, hearing him say good night to all. She didn’t relax until she heard the front door close. Hard.
Poor William , she thought. She’d once contemplated marrying him…well, at least, thought about it. And how dare he! She wasn’t doing anything but flirting. She’d no more hop into Wycoff’s bed than she’d marry William. It was no crime to think about… Was it?
She put a hand to her forehead. If she wasn’t going to marry William or succumb to imagined pleasures in a fascinating stranger’s embrace, then she’d better get busy and do what she’d been planning so long, even if it wasn’t exactly time yet. She’d been dawdling too long. There was just enough money to get there now. She could swallow her damnable pride and ask her mama for house room until she found a way to earn her way back again.
Time to go, if she really meant to. And if not?
Then there’d be time enough to marry William or another like him and live out the rest of a tepid, longing life. Or leap into bed and burn there with a rake like Wycoff, to have something to remember for the rest of that longing life. Something to remember? the small voice that ruled her asked. Like a baby? Another child to raise, only this one born out of wedlock, oh clever Lucy? She sighed. She was so weary with wrestling with the problem. Time to go to bed at least.
“There!” he said, finally releasing her with every evidence of satisfaction. “That’s what was wrong,and now it’s right. Enough, Lucy, my girl,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I’ve asked for your hand before, now I think you need me to demand it.”
She stared at him. His dark face bore a look of triumph.
“Are you run mad?” she asked. “Or have you been drinking? What gives you the right to do that? Who gave you permission to mishandle me? What in God’s creation do you think you’re doing?”
She advanced on him, her voice rising with every word. It was his turn to stare. He stepped back as she came forward, retreating before her accusing pointed finger. She tapped the front of his jacket when he finally stopped, because the next step would have taken him right into the fire.
“What is the meaning of this, William Bellows?” she demanded.
“Well, I thought…I mean to say…Well, I have asked you to marry me time out of mind,” he said defensively. “We’ve known each other all these years, and there you were simpering like a girl for that Englishman, and we both know you’re a grown woman of thirty odd. Well, there it is,” he said, turning to aggression again, because it had sounded like whining, even to him. “Time for you to make up your mind, my girl. That fellow wants nothing but someone to warm his bed before he gets out of it and moves on to find another. He said as much. I thought you were better than that. I thought maybe you needed to hear I offer you more.”
“I am better than that,” she said, her eyes kindling with blue fury, “As you should know. If you don’t know the difference between flirtation and…If you thought I…!” She stamped her foot. “I will ask you to leave right now, William Bellows, without another word—if you ever want one from me again, much less aspire to my hand. Which I will keep at the end of my own sleeve, thank you very much. Oh! I am so angry at you!” she shouted. “Good night!”
“Lucy…”
“I said, good night.”
He gave her a curt bow, spun on his heel and left.
She stood rigid, hearing him telling the salesman he had to leave and so couldn’t play cards, hearing him say good night to all. She didn’t relax until she heard the front door close. Hard.
Poor William , she thought. She’d once contemplated marrying him…well, at least, thought about it. And how dare he! She wasn’t doing anything but flirting. She’d no more hop into Wycoff’s bed than she’d marry William. It was no crime to think about… Was it?
She put a hand to her forehead. If she wasn’t going to marry William or succumb to imagined pleasures in a fascinating stranger’s embrace, then she’d better get busy and do what she’d been planning so long, even if it wasn’t exactly time yet. She’d been dawdling too long. There was just enough money to get there now. She could swallow her damnable pride and ask her mama for house room until she found a way to earn her way back again.
Time to go, if she really meant to. And if not?
Then there’d be time enough to marry William or another like him and live out the rest of a tepid, longing life. Or leap into bed and burn there with a rake like Wycoff, to have something to remember for the rest of that longing life. Something to remember? the small voice that ruled her asked. Like a baby? Another child to raise, only this one born out of wedlock, oh clever Lucy? She sighed. She was so weary with wrestling with the problem. Time to go to bed at least.
Similar Books
