Page 5 of Rejected
That being said, you are never going to believe this.
Eternally,
Your sister
four
Laurie’s steps quickened behind her, hot in pursuit, and she shrieked in delight and ran faster. She may have heard the delicate, sheer silk that had cost a fortune to be sewn across the front of her skirt, tear most viciously, but that did not slow her down whatsoever.
Her stupid, silk shoes sank in the wet grass as she ran, but she persisted.
Where are my good riding boots when I actually need them?
Laurie overtook her soon enough, but she still counted it as a victory; it was a good thirty seconds before he did. She in a corset and dress and he in his silk breeches. It was barely a contest, but she still had him beaten. At least for the first half of a minute.
Then he came crashing around a bend in the dark, barreling towards her from behind the rosebushes, screaming in victory, and at the very sight of him looming over her like that, all muscles and cheekbones, her stupid slipper came off. She stumbled, and before she knew it, she was being crushed under his suddenly impossibly large body. When had the man gotten a full head taller than her? And why was heeverywhere?
As she fell, all flailing arms, tearing muslin, giggling screams and tumbling curls, Laurie’s body came between her and the ground. His arm curled around her waist and they fell together, she on top of him. They lay there for a few seconds, panting andlaughing, a tumble of sweaty silks and once well-coiffed curls, as they had done many times since they were children.
And then, the laughter stopped abruptly.
Josephine became very aware of how hard his chest was underneath hers. How frantically his heart was beating. How fast his breath was coming. How their bodies were melded together, hip to shoulder, their feet tangled on the grass.
“I can’t breathe,” Laurie gasped.
Josephine was on her feet in an instant.
She gave him her hand to pull him up, but he didn’t see it—or pretended he didn’t—and stood on his own. She turned around and tried to make herself presentable, but there was no helping it: her hair had come out of his elaborate coiffure and was tumbling in auburn curls past her waist.Oh, well.
That is how Laurie sees me at home every day anyway,she thought. At least he would not be scandalized by the sight. She picked a branch off her sleeve and flattened out the ruined skirt of her dress. Pink rose petals and blades of grass fell out.
“Are you hurt?” Laurie asked, his back to her. He was attempting to tame his hair—but it was too late. He was already looking more and more like her Laurie and not a Dandy belonging to London’s notoriouston.
“I am a victor, that’s what I am,” Josephine replied.
“Sit down a second, catch your breath.”
He did not contradict her about winning the race. What was wrong with him? He had never missed an opportunity to lord a victory over her before. And they were rare and far between.
“Laurie, what are you—?”
He lifted a hand in the air, as if he needed a moment to compose himself.
She sat on a bench, and looked around her, trying to calm her breathing.
He wants us to behave like adults, now, does he? Fine. I can do it as well as he can. I may not have hordes of men falling at my feet in the ballroom, but here, in a deserted garden, I can comport myself appropriately.
The racing aside, of course.
She made sure her back was straight, like a proper young lady. She looked around her, heart still pounding. The garden, illuminated by tiny points of light—lanterns and fireflies, looked like a fairyland straight out of a story. It was as if Margaret had worked with nature itself to create the perfect, magical night. Josephine wouldn’t put it past her.
She inhaled deeply. The night was warm and the air smelled of jasmine and roses. Laurie came gingerly and sat next to her on the bench, his long body barely fitting on the wood’s narrow frame. He was practically emanating heat.
My own, personal source of sunshine, Josephine thought at himI missed you.
He had been rather distant since before they came to London for Margaret’s season. They weregrowing up, of course, so it was expected that their lives would drift in different directions: who had time for running barefoot on the grass, or riding until sundown, or swimming, or playing theater in the living room anymore? He had probably been haunting gaming hells and taking three trips to London every month for the past three years, like her brother.
Maybe he, too, was a rake.
