He regarded her dubiously while cutting her a generous slice of pie. “Not even a first kiss? I thought that was a monumental event for a young lady. Better even than encountering dragons and pixies.”
She blushed and began to fidget. “Let us speak of something else.”
She was never going to admit she had yet to be kissed by a beau. This was perhaps her greatest regret, for she had been young and too uncertain of herself. She was so scared to trust any man that she had trusted no one and never experienced a first kiss. Nor was she foolish enough to allow herself to be compromised by some scheming fortune hunter who would then insist on marrying her to “save” her reputation.
But amid all her wariness and secure defenses, she had missed out not only on the thrill of a first kiss but on the chance of a true and enduring love.
That hurt most of all. She would never marry or have children of her own. She would go to her grave never having been kissed in a romantic and enrapturing way.
Was this not the most pathetic thing imaginable?
Perhaps she would ask Lord Aubrey to kiss her before the house party ended and he returned to London. One kiss before he dropped her like a stone now that he understood the sort of family she would bring along with her, should they ever marry.
Ha!Marriage? Even under the best circumstances, it remained an impossible dream. Her parents were as bad as a plague.
But in thinking of kisses, she knew Lord Aubrey was not the one she wanted for her precious first. She wanted Connor, but how could she ever ask him? He was the only man whose lips shewanted touching hers, the only man she completely trusted. He would always be honest with her.
However, they were friends and neighbors. Could they share one kiss and then proceed with their lives as usual? Or would it change everything and she would lose his friendship, too?
No, it would be too risky. Losing this precious rapport she had with Connor was too upsetting to consider.
Connor continued to eye her intently, and she knew the moment he became aware of her secret. “Eden, have you never been kissed before?”
She avoided answering the question by shooting out of her chair when her father happened to emit a timely howl. “I had better see to him.” The stitches had to be painful as the doctor put them in.
Connor clamped his hand on her wrist. “There is nothing you can do but hover over him, and that will only make him behave worse. He is going to continue howling because he is not the stoic type.”
She stopped trying to tug out of his grip that was not tight, merely persistent. “Stoic?” She laughed mirthlessly. “No, my parents shall never be known for their grace under pressure.”
“Those stitches will hurt a little, but he will survive,” Connor assured her. “The doctor knows what he is doing.”
At her nod, he released her.
“Finish your pie, Eden.” He refilled her glass of lemonade and then cut each of them another generous slice of pie.
Her father howled again.
Connor placed his hand over hers. “You must have smelled the odd, faintly sickly smell when we walked in. The doctor has already numbed the area of the wound, so I think your father is shouting more out of indignation than any serious pain. I’ve had stitches myself.”
“You have? What happened?”
“My upper arm was sliced during a battle in Spain. The army surgeon sewed me up, and I was back on the battlefield within an hour afterward. I’m sure I was fairly useless to my regiment, but no one ever complained.”
“I’m sure you were valiant and your fellow soldiers were heartened to see you back with them. How many stitches?”
“Thirty.”
“Oh, Connor. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It was nothing. Others fared worse.”
Her hands were shaking as she raised the glass to her lips. “I’m sure it was quite something. But you make it appear insignificant because you are brave and heroic. My father is a spoiled child.”
As though to prove her point, her father began bellowing invectives at the doctor. It was yet another humiliation to endure, but Dr. Weaver was familiar with her family by now. She would apologize to him profusely once he was done.
On a brighter note, did this not prove all was well with her father? He was alive and back to his usual bellicose form. His lung capacity was undiminished.
This also meant her mother was no longer doomed to spend her days as a criminal on the run.
