Page 3 of A Summer Romance
She was not going to bethatsort of wife.She would be a lady of leisure, lying upon a settee with a novel while her servants brought her coffee and chocolates.And then in the evenings her husband—it was always someone who looked at least a bit like Francis in her daydreams—would join her for supper and then sweep her up in his arms.
And he would kiss her.It was always that kiss from the library, perfect in every detail.
The dreams always stopped there, but she told herself that whatever he did to her was sure to be very nice.
There would be no farmer’s son in Breana’s future, not if she could help it, nor the curate who made eyes at her in church on Sunday.She was going to marry a wealthy man—someone like Francis—and live the sort of life she felt she deserved.
And sometimes, if she wondered whether she might become very fat eating all of those chocolates, and whether she might become bored lying on a settee all day, then she refused to listen to the contrary whispers in her head.
She wasn’t actually surehowwealthy Francis was, but she knew he must be quite rich.He was the second brother of four.Breana barely knew the two young brothers, but Theodore, the oldest, had always made her feel uncomfortable.He frowned at her in a way that made her think he disapproved of her.Or, worse, that he could see right through her to her silliest imaginings.She was sure that he would be even more disapproving if he knew she was here, trysting with Francis and longing for another kiss.
Surely Francis hadn’t told his brother about the kiss in the cupboard?The thought of him knowing made her even more jumpy, and she glanced behind her several times as she made her way through the orchard, as if expecting Theo to be lurking by one of the trees, frowning.
The old pear tree mentioned in Francis’s note was easily found, the perfect place for their rendezvous.She wondered why he had chosen this particular spot.It occurred to her that he may have met other girls here before, but Breana pushed the idea aside.She had never heard his name linked with anyone else in Barton Lacey, and gossip was currency in their village.
Her pretty blue skirts brushed over the damp grass, and she held them up above her ankles.It was the new dress she had begged her mother for, and she would hate to get it soiled just before she went to London.A fetching straw bonnet with matching blue ribbons shaded her face and kept her skin from freckling.That was the awful thing about having red hair; one did tend to freckle.
But Francis had said he loved her hair.He said it was like a bonfire.Breana wasn’t sure that wasentirelycomplimentary, though he was smiling when he said it.Last time they met, by the roses in the garden, he had tried to persuade her to take out her pins and let the thick, curly strands fall around her shoulders.He said he wanted to run his fingers through her hair as he kissed her.
She’d been tempted to comply, but it was just as well she hadn’t because that was when Theodore had interrupted them.He had sent Francis inside, saying their father wanted to speak to him.To Breana’s surprise, Francis had obeyed immediately, without even a protest.Breana had been about to follow when Theodore had offered her his arm.
She had pretended not to see it.
Had Theodore seen them kissing?She’d blushed at the idea that he might have, and didn’t want to take his arm and be forced to walk with him.What if he lectured her?How mortifying.It would not fit in with her fantasy at all.In fact, it would feel very much like real life!
Just then she noticed a tall figure by the old pear tree, standing with his back to her.
Francis!Her heart quickened as she hurried toward him.It was only when he turned at the sound of her eager approach, that she saw that it wasn’t Francis after all.It was Theodore.And, as usual, he was frowning at her.
Breana thought about beating a hasty retreat, pretending she had an urgent appointment somewhere else.But it was too late.Theodore had seen her.Why was he here in this particular spot at this particular time?How much did he know about her meeting with Francis?It was possible, although unlikely, that it was all just a coincidence.And if that was the case, she didn’t want to make him suspicious.
She came toward him, her steps slowing despite her brave smile.“Mr.Norris,” she said sweetly and dropped a little curtsey.
“Miss Starling,” Theodore replied, though it was more of a growl than a greeting.And he didn’t respond with a bow, which was simply rude.Instead, he came toward her until he was fartooclose, and loomed over her in a way that made her want to shrink away.It was only her resolve not to be intimidated by such a bully that kept her back straight and her chin up.
“I was out walking when I fancied a ripe pear,” she said pleasantly.That would show him who had the good manners here!
“Inourorchard?”His dark brows wrinkled in a scowl over his dark eyes.“I hardly think so, Miss Starling.I know for a fact that you are here to meet my brother Francis.”
So hedidknow.But she refused to admit it.Why did he have to be so awful?Wouldn’t a gentleman simply accept her explanation?
“I was out walking,” she repeated but felt her cheeks warm, no doubt matching with her hair.
“You are trespassing,” he answered without a pause.He acted as though he was in the right, which he was, she supposed, but howdarehe show such a lack of consideration for her embarrassing position?
She had had enough of him.
“Well then, are you going to have me arrested?”she asked, her voice rather high.“The constable is a friend of my brother, and I am quite sure he would let me go.”
He blinked.Then his mouth quirked, almost as if he was going to smile, but she knew that couldn’t be possible.Theodore Norrisneversmiled.
“I see no need to go that far.Not if you tell me the truth, Miss Starling.And I should warn you that Francis has already admitted that he had an assignation with you here at two o’clock today.”
“‘Assignation’?”she spluttered, as if she hadn’t been thinking in those very same terms just moments ago.
“What would you call it then?”Theodore said, more curious than argumentative.“Two unmarried, unrelated persons meeting alone?I would call it an assignation.Maybe a tryst.Perhaps even an ill-conceived rendezvous.”
“It was none of those things!We arefriends.Friends are allowed to meet, aren’t they?”
