Page 23 of A Gentleman's Kiss
Although there wasthatkiss… It wasn’t one she wanted to repeat.
What if the things Dominick told her about Sir Trenton were true? Was he a scoundrel? She didn’t want to commit to Dominick and then find out Sir Trenton was the man she truly desired... But then again, she didn’t have the warm fuzzy feelings with Sir Trenton that the mere thought of Dominick brought to her. She should if she was considering him as a husband shouldn’t she? Oh, the turmoil love created!
Lillian decided not to think about it another moment, she wanted to enjoy this night. Besides, Dominick was spoken for. Aunt Georgiana had made it clear she intended to seek a match between Dominick and Tamara. She couldn’t and wouldn’t interfere with her aunt’s plans. But Dominick did not want Tamara to wife, did he? For certainly, if he did, he would not have flirted with her the way her did, nor would he have held her in the carriage, kissed her on the forehead.
“I am so glad to see you. It has been too long,” she said to Sir Trenton, pushing away the thoughts of Dominick.
“Yes it has. I came back from my trip early, so I wouldn’t miss your ball,” he said with a grin in her direction.
“Thank you.”
“I was thinking perhaps after our dance, I could take you for a walk in the gardens for some fresh air. I should like to talk to you very much. The ballroom is quite stuffy for conversation.”
“I agree. Fresh air sounds wonderful.”
Was he going to propose?Her heart jumped into her throat, and she prayed he wouldn’t. She was not ready for his declaration!
Sir Trenton handed her a glass of punch, and clinked her glass, “To a new beginning.”
What did that mean? She smiled with what she hoped was a sweet curve of her lips, and not the fear racing along her spine.
The sound of a waltz began, and he led her onto the dance floor. His dancing skills rivaled those of Lord Wessex, and she found herself drowning in his dark green eyes. In the subtle promises he made. They floated together across the dance floor, all eyes on them, whispers and hushed voices in the background. Lillian’s gown swirled around her ankles just as she imagined it would.
They spoke not a word during the dance, just stared into each other’s eyes, almost reading each other’s souls. Lillian ignored the sounds around them, paying attention only to the handsome man who spun her about on the dance floor. Surprisingly, as she had with her other partners, she did not even turn to see where Dominick was.
When the dance ended, Sir Trenton led her out to the gardens, their feet crunching on gravel. Short gaslights, nearly as tall as she, were set up along the pathways so guests could meander through the gardens, and admire the marble fountains. But Sir Trenton did not direct her to head toward those spots which were visible by all and sundry. Instead, he directed her off to the side, past trellises of roses and out of the light, where it was more private. As soon as they were out of earshot of the other guests he spun her around to face him. Before she knew it, his lips were crushing hers, his arms tight around her. She pushed against him, but the passion of his kiss was too fierce.
His kiss now, was no different than in the carriage when he’d promised he’d never do such a thing again. Her lips stung, his teeth scraped her lips, and she thought she could taste blood in her mouth. His hands roamed over her back, dipping lower to grasp her derriere, and she tried to wrench loose.
Lillian stop him! This is not right.
How dare he take such liberties again, before committing to her, and he hadn’t even dared to ask for a kiss. He was taking what she was not willing to give.
His arms, which held her impossibly tight, were a force to be reckoned with. The kiss, which was becoming more passionate as he forced his tongue into her mouth, scared her. He was oblivious to her struggles against him. Lillian was determined to stop him. She knew this was wrong, this was not a gentleman’s kiss. She also knew for certain who the only man was she wanted a kiss from—and it wasn’t Sir Trenton.
Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed away from him, but it was no use, he tugged her closer.
“Sir Trenton, I do not think Miss Whitmore is enjoying this as much as you. I suggest you desist immediately, or I shall be forced to draw my sword.” The cold, calm voice of Dominick washed over Lillian, and she was flooded with relief.
Sir Trenton pushed Lillian behind him. “Lord Wessex. I do not believe this is any of your affair.”
“But it is mine,” Lillian said pushing her way past Sir Trenton. “I do not take kindly to you forcing such improper liberties upon me. Good night, sir.” Her voice shook with anger, and tears threatened to unleash themselves in a torrential downpour.
“I will be watching you, Sir Trenton. Keep your sword in its sheath,” Dominick threatened, his double meaning more than evident.
Dominick gently grasped Lillian’s arm as she entered through a side door used only by servants. She didn’t trust how she looked. Her lips felt swollen, bruised, and her hair fell out of its pins in wisps around her face. No doubt if anyone saw her, they would readily believe the rumors flitting about Society regarding her baser inclinations. She pulled her arm away from Dominick. She didn’t want anyone holding power over her, even if she knew he meant well.
“I am sorry Lillian, I should have followed you right away. Are you all right?” He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at her lips.
So she had been right, her lip was bleeding. She winced at how sensitive they were.
“Yes, thank you for coming to my aid. I’m sure I could have released myself from his grasp, but you put an end quickly to the smothering I was enduring.” She grasped the handkerchief from him. Mortification set in. Her cheeks blazed. She held up his linen, and said, “I shall see you get a new one.”
“There is no need. Can I get you anything, perhaps a glass of champagne or punch?”
“No, I think I may just go to my room for the evening. Thank you, my lord.” She curtsied then walked as fast as she could to the servant’s stairs, before breaking into a run. She reached her room just as the tears spilled.
She was so innocent, just as Dominick had said. She couldn’t take care of herself, and now she knew for sure. She was no match for Sir Trenton, and he would have taken what he wanted right there in the gardens, regardless of his earlier promise. He believed her to be a light-skirt, and why wouldn’t he? She’d run around accepting his kisses from the very beginning. What he knew of her completely matched with the descriptions coming from America of her persona.
She was in way over her head. London was beyond her. She belonged no where.
She was lost.
