tested it—at least not in the last few years. Without another thought, she tossed her gown out and quickly straddled the sill.
She was almost over it when he quashed her plan, grabbing her wrist. “Oh, no you don’t.”
She tried to pull away, but he tugged her closer. Despite his skin-and-bones appearance, he was surprisingly strong.
“No!” She tried to pull away again, but he cupped his hand around the back of her head and tried to kiss her.
Ugh! He was awful and rude, and his foul breath was unbearable.
She hit him in the ear with the side of her fist. She’d no idea how she’d learned to be so savage, and he yowled and let go of her. She immediately ran for the candlestick by her bed, and when she turned around, he was already upon her. She’d time for only one blow, so she struck him as hard as she could on the crown of his head.
His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and he fell to the rug.
Thank God.
Pippa took in a deep breath and let it out just as the first cock crowed. In the faint beam of dawn light that came through the side window and burnished away some of the darkness, she saw that he was still breathing.
She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the trembling. She must go. She couldn’t stay. She could explain what happened to Uncle Bertie, but there was the Toad. He was too dangerous now. She didn’t believe for a second that he’d succeeded in bribing villagers to speak against her. But perhaps he’d tried, which was bad enough.
A pang at the thought of leaving Uncle Bertie and Mother assailed her, but surely Uncle Bertie would look after Mother.
She crept over to her bed and opened Mr. Hawthorne’s coat while she prayed he wouldn’t awaken. Then she palmed the key to her room and opened the bedchamber door.
Without looking back, she pulled it shut behind her, and headed downstairs. She could comply with what the world expected of her, or she could fight. It was time to seek out her happiness. When would she ever get another chance?
She’d little time. Any second Hawthorne could wake.
Downstairs she entered the sewing room and spied the trunk in the corner. When she was finished there, she wrote a hasty note in Uncle Bertie’s library and left it in the dining room, next to the remainder of her castle standing in its glittery but imperfect glory on the center of the table. It was still splendid, despite both the accidental and intentional assaults upon it last night.
A sense of rightness filled her—big enough to swallow her fear of the unknown—and she left the room with purpose in her step. Sensual daydreams about swarthy, infuriating earls—and marriage to any man—were for women who had nothing better to do.
Pippa was going to Paris.
Chapter Three
Something wasn’t right. Gregory had stayed up far too late in his bedchamber staring at the faded royal-blue velvet drapes of the canopy bed and wishing for sleep. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Pippa was three doors down on the other side of the corridor and that all he had to do was go to her—
And he’d be happy. He knew he would be. Maybe for an hour, which was about the time it would take him to gird himself to return to common sense again. But it would be a good hour. A memorable one.
That was the thing, he realized in the middle of the night. Why had he even bothered to go to America? It hadn’t changed anything. He still felt trapped in a dark, locked room. But he spent one night at Bertie’s— one night —and he was reminded that Pippa, of all people, could make him feel light again.
He was shocked and aghast. It made no sense. She was a lady. And she was Pippa, a real nuisance. But something about her made him question his plan to marry for duty and play with a mistress.
I’d love to play with Pippa. The thought came to him when he was naked and spread-eagled beneath soft, clean sheets. That ivory dress and the winking locket at the cleft of her breasts had driven him mad all
She was almost over it when he quashed her plan, grabbing her wrist. “Oh, no you don’t.”
She tried to pull away, but he tugged her closer. Despite his skin-and-bones appearance, he was surprisingly strong.
“No!” She tried to pull away again, but he cupped his hand around the back of her head and tried to kiss her.
Ugh! He was awful and rude, and his foul breath was unbearable.
She hit him in the ear with the side of her fist. She’d no idea how she’d learned to be so savage, and he yowled and let go of her. She immediately ran for the candlestick by her bed, and when she turned around, he was already upon her. She’d time for only one blow, so she struck him as hard as she could on the crown of his head.
His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and he fell to the rug.
Thank God.
Pippa took in a deep breath and let it out just as the first cock crowed. In the faint beam of dawn light that came through the side window and burnished away some of the darkness, she saw that he was still breathing.
She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the trembling. She must go. She couldn’t stay. She could explain what happened to Uncle Bertie, but there was the Toad. He was too dangerous now. She didn’t believe for a second that he’d succeeded in bribing villagers to speak against her. But perhaps he’d tried, which was bad enough.
A pang at the thought of leaving Uncle Bertie and Mother assailed her, but surely Uncle Bertie would look after Mother.
She crept over to her bed and opened Mr. Hawthorne’s coat while she prayed he wouldn’t awaken. Then she palmed the key to her room and opened the bedchamber door.
Without looking back, she pulled it shut behind her, and headed downstairs. She could comply with what the world expected of her, or she could fight. It was time to seek out her happiness. When would she ever get another chance?
She’d little time. Any second Hawthorne could wake.
Downstairs she entered the sewing room and spied the trunk in the corner. When she was finished there, she wrote a hasty note in Uncle Bertie’s library and left it in the dining room, next to the remainder of her castle standing in its glittery but imperfect glory on the center of the table. It was still splendid, despite both the accidental and intentional assaults upon it last night.
A sense of rightness filled her—big enough to swallow her fear of the unknown—and she left the room with purpose in her step. Sensual daydreams about swarthy, infuriating earls—and marriage to any man—were for women who had nothing better to do.
Pippa was going to Paris.
Chapter Three
Something wasn’t right. Gregory had stayed up far too late in his bedchamber staring at the faded royal-blue velvet drapes of the canopy bed and wishing for sleep. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Pippa was three doors down on the other side of the corridor and that all he had to do was go to her—
And he’d be happy. He knew he would be. Maybe for an hour, which was about the time it would take him to gird himself to return to common sense again. But it would be a good hour. A memorable one.
That was the thing, he realized in the middle of the night. Why had he even bothered to go to America? It hadn’t changed anything. He still felt trapped in a dark, locked room. But he spent one night at Bertie’s— one night —and he was reminded that Pippa, of all people, could make him feel light again.
He was shocked and aghast. It made no sense. She was a lady. And she was Pippa, a real nuisance. But something about her made him question his plan to marry for duty and play with a mistress.
I’d love to play with Pippa. The thought came to him when he was naked and spread-eagled beneath soft, clean sheets. That ivory dress and the winking locket at the cleft of her breasts had driven him mad all
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