Christine Merrill - A Regency Virgin's Undoing - Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin / Paying the Virgin's Price

He was backing away from her now and it felt as if he were backing away from the act itself. Do not make me go.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice brittle.

‘I had best see to the horses. And you … can take this to prepare a bed.’ He tossed her a blanket from his pack. ‘You will find the hay is quite comfortable. And I will just … The horses …’ And he turned from her, stumbling towards the horses and wading into the icy cold stream.

It will not happen again.

That was rather a shame, she thought, as Dru gathered the blanket to her body and went to shoo the cow from the hay. The less sensible part of her wanted to demand an immediate repeat of the experience.

All she had wanted was a kiss. And she had assumed that, if she allowed him, that was all he would take, as he had with Char. But she had underestimated Mr Hendricks, just as she had from the first. Things had got quite out of hand. And while he had claimed that what he was doing was meant for edification and was merely meant to assist her in being comfortable, she suspected that there was much more to it than he had let on.

But she was not likely to know what had occurred without further experimentation and questioning of the man. What had happened was so pleasant that she was quite sure it must be unusual, unhealthy or improper. She sighed. Many things that were pleasant seemed to fall into those categories.

But, if this was what came of wearing trousers, then it explained much of what she had heard of men and their insatiable desires. There had been nothing in Mr Hendricks’s other behaviour that had made her think of a man crazed by lust. But her governesses had assured her that all men became so on the least provocation.

Of course, they had been quite sketchy on the details of what such a mania might entail. But she was sure that there would be some obvious sign of it. In any case, she doubted that she was the sort of female that would engender such emotions. Especially not attired in muddied breeches and smelling slightly of horse.

Still, it would be nice to know. And to imagine what it would be like to drive Mr Hendricks mad. Because, if there was an answering madness, she suspected that she might be experiencing some of the symptoms. It was probably all the fault of the breeches.

The idea that they would be sleeping side by side again tonight made her … She shook her head in disgust. It made her want to giggle. To simper, just as girls did in the retiring room after having had a waltz with a particularly handsome gentleman. There was nothing about the current situation that should be so amusing. Or even give rise to the sort of nervous tittering that other girls engaged in.

Sleeping beside him was a necessary evil of the trip, a way to share warmth without laying a fire. Or at least it had been, until he had touched her. Her body resonated like rung crystal. And it proved that, no matter what she had feared, he did not think of her as genderless. He knew she was a woman and had apparently given the matter some thought. The look in his eyes had been confident, knowing and faintly amused. It had been there in the kiss as well, as though he had known what to expect from her mouth and her body. He had seen potential in her and had sought to develop it.

After, he had looked as she had felt: utterly confused. As he had promised, she was relaxed, more sure of herself and her surroundings. But he looked tense. Nervous. Unable to meet her eyes. And she had ruined everything by being harsh with him, scolding and pretending that she had not wanted exactly what he’d given her.

And then he had hurried away from her with muttered excuses about seeing to the horses. If she did not change her tone with him, it was unlikely that he would share the blanket with her at all tonight. He would go to sleep beside his horse and she would sleep alone.

Tomorrow, they would ride on, she would find Priss and they would take her back to London. She would explain to her father what had occurred and Mr Hendricks’s part in it. Omitting certain details, of course. He would be paid and she would see to it that he received a polite but vague letter of thanks and recommendation for his help in handling a delicate matter with utmost discretion.

Then he would go. And she would never see him again. All the anxiety of the previous days came flooding back to her at once. What was she to do without him?

The same things she had always done, of course. She would manage herself and those around her. She would raise her chin, standing firm in the face of all the nonsense her family was capable of, and put up with her father’s endless disapproval. She would put her needs to one side in the vain hope that, some day, things would be settled and she would have time for herself.

For the first time since childhood, she wanted to stamp her foot and cry. Sometimes, she worried that there would never be more to her life than what she already had, an endless string of duties and loneliness. In the moment she had kicked the strange man seated across the carriage from her, the burden of responsibility had been lifted. Now she did not want to take it back. It would be even more difficult to return home, knowing that there was a wonderful world of experience that she had sampled just one small corner of.

She wanted him to come back, so she could put her arms around his neck and pull him down into the haystack. Then she would demand that he tell her everything. He must teach her to touch him in the way he had touched her, right to the very soul, until he was lying beside her, as happy and sated as she felt.

She wanted him to assure her that there was more between them as well, that it didn’t have to end in a week, with a discreet thank you and a return to their normal stations.

She bundled the blanket in her arms and set off towards the trees to find him. ‘Mr Hendricks!’

He was leaning against a tree, eyes closed and at peace, almost as if he meant to sleep standing up. But when he realised she was near, he started in panic, glancing around himself as though he thought to run. ‘Lady Drusilla.’

‘Mr Hendricks,’ she said, more gently. ‘I wish to retire. Will you be joining me on the haystack this evening?’ It sounded ridiculously formal. But what else did one say, at a moment like this?

But it must have been right. When she caught his eyes, he smiled. No. Not a smile. He grinned. It was insolent and inappropriate.

Without even thinking, she grinned back at him, then they both looked hurriedly away. She straightened her clothing; he polished his spectacles.

And then he said, ‘I do not think it wise that I join you, after what just occurred. That is, if you do not wish …’

‘I do not wish to be cold or alone, either,’ she said firmly. ‘And in the hay, there are likely to be … other residents. Vermin, perhaps, or adders.’

‘And that frightens you?’

Of course it didn’t. It would be unpleasant, of course, but it was foolish to worry about things that were so small. But for once, she managed to answer correctly. ‘Yes, the very idea terrifies me.’

He let out a bark of laughter to show that he did not believe her in the least, then he stood up and took the blanket from her. ‘Of course I shall share a haystack with you, Lady Drusilla. I would not dream of leaving you, a frail female, alone and afraid.’ They walked back to the hay and he took the blanket from her, spreading it out to make a kind of nest for them. Then he climbed up and helped her up beside him. And added, more quietly, ‘At the very least, I will come to see what you look like when frightened. In my experience, it must be a rare thing.’

‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘But I have found there is little point in displaying such emotions. Fear is invariably used against one by those who sense it. In the end, one is worse off than before.’