Page 49 of In Search of a Husband
Shortbread crumbledout of Lorna’s mouth as she sat in the breakfast room, her wide brown eyes blinking up at Kate who was mending yet another pair of trousers for the young girl.
“Mother’s shortbread tasted better.”
Kate wordlessly nodded in agreement, still flustered from her kiss with Gabriel in the kitchen the evening before.
One kiss that had lingered. No one spoke about the power of a lingering kiss. They were whispers of fire to come, of storms brewing, the first herald of desire.
He must think the very worst of her.
Her stomach tumbled. She wasn’t sure how she felt about herself either. But she felt their kiss was far different from whatever petty flirtation she shared with the marquess. That was nothing more than a girlish crush.
Gabriel.
Nearly three nights earlier now, his voice had broken and so had her resolve, and she had called him Gabe. It felt far too intimate.
Her mother would have collapsed in a fit of nerves if she ever discovered her daughter conducting herself the way Kate often didaround men. It wasn’t as if she didn’t try to behave. It was only it felt amazing to be with a man, and be touched, to be wanted.
Even if that curiosity saw her ousted out of proper society.
Kate wasn’t proper.
During the last conversation she’d had with her mother, she had been called a harlot. And it had been made abundantly clear that she was considered a grave disappointment. While the marquess’s behavior in the entire affair was excused because of his rakish reputation.
Kate should have known better, her mother had reprimanded.
Should.
She had grown to despise that word over the past year. Should was quickly draining her life of any joy.
She should know better. She should behave better. She should find a husband and settle down.
“Miss Bancroft?” Maisie said, jumping up onto her chair and banging the table.
Kate blinked, startled out of her reverie. Right, just as she should be minding after the girls.
She was a horrible daughter, sister, and now governess.
“Maisie, at our tea party, I must insist you place your bottom in your seat. Princesses are not allowed to stand in their seats or else they could fall and hit their head.”
“And then no one would marry them because their head would be all bluidy and fall off,” Lorna giggled.
Kate fought back a laugh, not quite following. “Well, you could certainly injure yourself.”
“I dinna want to be married. I want to be a witch and live in the woods,” Maisie said, plopping down onto her seat and crossing her arms. “Kissing is disgusting, and I think ye have to kiss yer husband.”
“Da never kissed Ma,” Lorna shot back defensively, stuffing another piece of “not good” shortbread into her mouth.
“He did, too!”
“How do ye remember?” Lorna stuck her tongue out.
Kissing was the last thing Kate wished to think about. She stirred her tea and adjusted the giant bonnet they decorated with rags and ribbon scraps. The weight of it caused it to droop over her eyes, and the girls giggled.
“Now that teatime is nearly complete, my dears, it’s time we practice French.”
The girls groaned.
“Ah, but we can practice outside on a stroll through the gardens.”
