Page 78 of Saving Miss Pratt

Upon her approach, Nash’s lips tipped up into a welcoming smile, only to fall when she reached his side. “Miss Pratt. What has happened?”

“May we walk? Perhaps a turn in the garden?” Anything to get away from prying eyes and ears.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Are you certain that’s wise? Speaking with me in the sight of others is one thing, but walking alone, unchaperoned . . .” He shook his head.

“What does it matter? They will never forgive me, even if King George himself were to bless me.”

His chuckle didn’t match the concern in his eyes. “Considering the number of scandals following him, it might be more of a possibility than you’d imagine. However, I commend you for keeping your sense of humor in all of this. Even so, I would caution you to give thought to what you ask.”

“Must everyone assume they know my mind better than I do? Besides, you are the one person who can even possibly understand.”

“Very well. But I must insist I don’t offer my arm. For your protection, not mine.”

Acutely aware of the eyes focused on her, eyes that had so intentionally refused to meet her gaze before, Priscilla proceeded down the steps of the terrace with Nash by her side.

“So, tell me. What has prompted this complete lack of concern for propriety? Have you abandoned your quest to find a husband here in London?”

Priscilla jerked in surprise toward Nash. “You knew about that?”

“Society may not often include me in their inner circles, but talk has made its way to me by other means. Besides, it is rather obvious. Lady Honoria’s attempts at matchmaking are less than subtle.” His chuckle reassured her he had not taken affront at such a forced pairing—at least where he was concerned.

She found herself smiling in return. “I suppose so.”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he strode beside her, mindfully keeping his distance. “Have you then? Given up on finding a husband here, and does it have any connection to the redness of your eyes?”

She’d have never pegged him for a perceptive man, at least not based on his reputation. Perhaps that’s what made a successful rake—understanding the workings of a woman’s mind. “I fear it’s more that London has abandoned me rather than the other way around. As for the redness of my eyes, that is because of an entirely different but not unconnected reason.”

“Hmm.” His gaze slid sideways, and something about his muttered response suggested he understood more than she imagined possible. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “Might that reason be a certain physician?”

Pain seared her heart anew from the mere thought of Timothy’s harsh words. “It’s of no consequence. There is no future for me here in London or with . . . him. He’s made that perfectly clear.”

Upon reaching the outer edge of the garden, Nash motioned with his hand, indicating they turn around to remain in view of those on the terrace. “And is that unobtainable future the only one able to secure your happiness?”

Her gaze locked with his dark eyes. No mockery shone within them. He’d simply asked a question, one perhaps more rhetorical than literal. Yet she answered, “I don’t know.”

“Taking the good doctor out of the equation, what exactly is required to make you happy?”

Hadn’t she just had a similar conversation with Timothy? “I want passion. For a man to truly desire me, love me, accept me for who I am.” She blushed admitting this to Nash, who could so easily use this to his advantage.

“There is no need to be embarrassed, Miss Pratt. What you’ve stated is a basic human need. I would wager—and as you know, Iama betting man—that if pressed, many if not all people would admit to wanting the same things. It’s simply that most people settle for much, much less.”

She nodded, the wisdom in his words sinking in and taking root. Isn’t that what she had decided to do? Settle? “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Heat scalded her cheeks, and she plucked up her courage to ask the one person who wouldn’t judge her. “Is physical passion truly as wonderful as I’ve heard?”

Both eyebrows raised at her scandalous enquiry. “You’ve heard? I assumed gently bred young ladies were sheltered from such talk.”

“People in the country aren’t as guarded with their conversation as those in London, and I confess, I may have both eavesdropped and enquired directly.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, matching the smile on his lips. “Have you ever been kissed, Miss Pratt? And if so, was it pleasant?”

Unbidden, her gaze darted toward the terrace and landed squarely on Timothy, who was in animated conversation with his sister. Quickly, she turned back to Nash.

The gleam in his eye indicated he deduced where she had directed her attention. “Ah. So that is a yes. Well, imagine the pleasure of that kiss magnified one thousand times.”

“Truly?”

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