Page 36 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Eleven

He shouldn’t stay.

Frederick knew he shouldn’t stay. Just as he knew it was inevitable that he would.

Wordlessly, he joined Lily on the bench and settled back against the smooth oak slats, his body keenly aware of the warm, gorgeous woman sitting beside him.

“It’s nice out here,” he said, curling his hand around the cool iron armrest.

Lily hummed her agreement. “I sit here nearly every night when the weather lets me. I like the quiet.”

Personally, he had no interest in sitting on a bench alone with his own thoughts, but if Lily was with him, he would happily do this every night.

“The Weeping Whiskers,” he murmured, gazing up at the sign hanging above the front door. “How did the inn come to acquire such an unusual name?”

An affectionate smile curved her lips, and her eyes slid to his, glinting with mischief. “Legend has it there once was a tomcat named Whiskers who made his home here in Little Bilberry. He spent his days napping and begging for scraps, coming and going as if he owned all of Hampshire.”

She leaned in close, as if imparting a secret, and when her shoulder brushed his arm, he felt the contact everywhere.

“Some say, when the moon is full,” she whispered, “the spirit of old Whiskers can be heard prowling the village, crying out for the life he once had.”

Frederick smiled, charmed by the story. “And have you ever heard old Whiskers’ ghost?”

She shook her head. “But don’t think I haven’t been listening.”

Her smile was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen, and her eyes, usually the color of tropical seas, had darkened in the night to azure.

The air between them seemed to crackle with expectation as they stared into each other’s eyes, until Lily cleared her throat and sat back in the bench.

“I haven’t said this to you yet,” she said briskly, tucking her shawl around her shoulders, “but I think it’s lovely that you’ve come to stay with your sister. She’s had such a difficult time since her husband died. I know seeing you has cheered her immeasurably.”

Frederick looked away from her, away from the gratitude and admiration on her face, neither of which he deserved. He shifted on the bench, his mind scrambling for something to say, something that wouldn’t be a lie, and wouldn’t make him feel worse about himself.

The only something that sprang to mind was the truth.

He didn’t want to tell her why he was really here, and yet, somehow, he did. For better or worse, he wanted to be honest with her. He wanted no secrets between them.

He cleared his throat, his heart thudding in his chest as he began to speak. “I’m glad to be spending this time with Penelope, of course, but I can’t accept your compliment. There’s another reason I came to Little Bilberry. A much less savory one.”

He told her about the affair with Serena, about Serena’s angry husband and Robert’s subsequent, none-too-gentle suggestion that he vacate London until the scandal had cooled.

After he’d finished, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, loosely lacing his fingers together.

He had avoided looking at Lily during the whole of his confession, but he forced himself to meet her gaze now, bracing for the disgust and disappointment he was certain to find on her face.

But all he saw was confusion in her eyes, and a thoughtful pursing of her lips.

“Did you not realize she was married?” she asked a moment later.

Frederick looked down at his clasped hands. “I knew. That was part of the appeal, I think. I had never bedded a married woman before.”

“Oh.”

Silence, thick as fleece, settled between them, and Frederick wondered what Lily was thinking, then admonished himself for his stupidity.

You know damn well what she’s thinking. She was thinking exactly what everyone else thought about him, that he was a scoundrel and a rogue and an irresponsible rat only concerned with satisfying his base needs.

And, much as he hated to admit it, there was some truth in that. There must be, or he wouldn’t have bedded a married woman, would he?