women insist on dressing as if it were the middle of summer.”
“I have learned already that in London it’s not fashionable to be warm.” Evleen looked down at herself and shivered. “If I had my way, I’d be bundled to my ears. I’d be laughed clear out of Ireland if I wore this ridiculous outfit on a chilly night like this in County Clare.”
As he began to tuck the blanket about her lap, she was again reminded of that day they’d started their trek across England. Earlier today, he’d done the same, only it was daylight, and they were in an open carriage. Now, in the cozy darkness, she felt more than warm and snug, she felt secure and safe in the hands of a man she could completely trust. “Sorry if I was... did you say fractious? Now there’s a big word.” With a laugh just loud enough, and impudent enough, for him to hear, she settled back in the darkness where she was instantly lulled by the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the gentle sway of the coach.
“I see your fiery Irish spirit is still alive and well,” he said softly, not the least perturbed. “Which I greatly admire, by the way. Timothy Murphy is a lucky man.”
Curious, she asked, “In what way?”
“He’ll have you for a wife, won’t he?”
“Not that I know of.”
He sat back. In the dimness, she could just see the shocked look on his face. “But I thought... someone told me...”
“They were wrong, whoever they were. I am not marrying Timothy. I made that clear to him before I left.”
“But...” All at once he threw his head back and let out a great peal of laughter. “And all this time I’ve been acting the honorable gentleman.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, puzzled. He leaned close again. His face, only inches away, was lit at intervals by the flickering glow cast by the gas street lights. Ordinarily she would be annoyed with anyone who got this close, but the intimate proximity of Thomas Linberry was causing a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach.
“But this puts a new light on things.” He took her hand and clasped it in both of his. “Strange, isn’t it, how we’ve traveled across two countries, but this is the first time we’ve ever truly been alone.”
“Does it make a difference?” Her heartbeat quickened. She sensed what was coming but could not bring herself to draw away.
“Of course it makes a difference. I could hardly kiss you in the middle of Saint James Square, now could I?” He slid his hands around her shoulders.
“But you think you can kiss me here?” Now her heart had more than just quickened, it was pounding, about ready to burst.
He drew closer still, his face only inches from hers. “Be warned, my dear Miss O’Fallon, I had an ulterior motive when I offered my coach. Timothy or no Timothy, my honor as a gentleman was wearing thin.”
Her rational thought was fast fading, but she managed to quote, “‘Men are happy to be laughed at for their humor, but not for their folly.’ Jonathan Swift said that. He—”
“The devil with Jonathan Swift.” He pulled slightly back. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me to stop. A pity, though, after I went to all this trouble to get you alone.”
“But this is folly. You know there are all kinds of reasons why we shouldn’t.”
“Ah, the obstacles.” Thomas leaned close again and murmured, “There are four ladies in the carriage directly ahead who would be utterly scandalized if they could see us now.” They passed a street light which briefly illuminated his devilish grin. He gripped her shoulders tighter. “I warn you, there’s every reason in the world why you shouldn’t kiss me, but you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”
Although his words were half in jest, there was a tremor in his voice and she could feel his body trembling. She said lightly, “Mama would not approve.”
“She’s not here.”
“Just one kiss?” She felt so warm, so protected. He was such an exciting man, how could this be wrong?
“One kiss,” he said softly, “just one. And after, we shall become our noble selves again, virtuous to a fault, dutifully tending to our moral obligations. Eventually you will either marry a rich Englishman or return to Ireland and doubtless marry that fine, outstanding Irishman, Timothy Murphy, no matter what you say. Eventually I shall marry... I forget her name, but