Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,10
with his handsome face, his eyes so dark now as he looked down at her. “I wish I could stay here with you.”
“Don’t talk like that now, lass.”
She gripped his hands tighter. “But I don’t want to go to London without you.”
“Ye’ll be back in no time.”
“Until I leave again.”
“I’ll be waiting when ye return.”
She cupped the back of his neck to tug his mouth down to hers, but he shook his head. “Not here. Ye’ll be missed in a moment.”
Phil blew out an impatient breath. “Then when?”
“Before ye go.” And he stepped back and bowed formally. “I’ll see to the china cow, me lady.”
“Fine.” She began to pull her gloves on as she started for the door. Once she reached it, she paused. “I am sorry about dinner. It really wasn’t your fault about the sauce.”
“I know, but ye saying so didn’t help matters.”
“I didn’t say it to help. I said it because it was the truth.”
He gave her an odd look, but she didn’t have time to ask him for his thoughts. He was right that she would be missed, and she was fortunate her mother hadn’t sent Caffold to look for her already. She hurried up the stairs and entered the drawing room. As expected, her mother said, “There you are! I was about to send Caffold to find you.”
PHIL SLEPT POORLY THAT night. She couldn’t quite erase Knoxwood’s words from her mind. And then her own response had been less than ideal. She should have accepted what he’d said graciously. Instead, she’d challenged him. She’d always thought honesty an admirable trait, but lately it seemed her tendency to point out truths caused her more harm than good. She probably should never have acknowledged, even if only to herself, that she had feelings for James Finnegan. She was not the first person of her class to have feelings for an inferior, but that was not a sin. The sin was acting on them.
At least in Society’s eyes. To Phil it seemed the sin was denying the truth of her feelings and thus, not acting on her feelings. James might be her inferior in the eyes of Society, but it was nothing more than an accident of birth that he was a footman and she a duke’s daughter. She didn’t believe it preordained any more than she believed the king was second only to God. The king was just a man, like any other. Perhaps not like any other as George III was currently quite mad and under lock and key at Windsor Castle.
But the king’s dementia did not invalidate her argument. Nor did any talk of her place in Society and her mother’s expectations for her alter the way she felt about James. When she was with him, she didn’t care who he was or who she was. She just wanted to be with him.
And that was the other reason she couldn’t sleep. Somewhere in this house, James was lying in bed just as she was. Was he thinking of her? He was probably sleeping, but was she very wicked to wish he would sneak down to her room and wake her with a kiss? As to what would happen after that kiss, she dared not think too much. She’d spent too many nights tossing and turning with her skin overly warm and the place between her legs aching. She’d grown up with five brothers. She knew what men and women did in the marriage bed—and out of it—and the fact that she wanted to do those things with James would probably only make her time in London even more miserable. Because she would have to find a husband who was not James and she would have to do those things with that man. Her body would never be her own again.
It seemed she’d barely slept when Dawson came in to wake her. “Rise and shine, my lady.” Dawson pulled the curtains open and Phil scowled at the gray sky.
“I will when the rest of the world does.”
“It’s not a very pretty day, I’ll give you that. But your mother is already dressing for the day, and she’ll want to discuss the trip to Town with you. I have a list of what we should bring, but I’ll lay it all out so we can go over it later.”
Phil waved a hand. “That’s quite alright, Dawson. Whatever you choose will be fine.”
But of course, it was not that easy to escape her duties. She was pulled into