Every Time We Kiss

Watching him, she wondered what he was about at this hour. He walked into an establishment and her heart sank. A gaming hell. He really was a gambler like his father.

The next morning Jennette sat at her desk in her bedroom compiling a list of possible brides for him. After much consideration, she’d decided on three more women. Each lady met his specific requirements and she hoped they would acquiesce to a meeting.

Having completed her list, she picked up her charcoal and let her imagination run free. Her hand deftly formed the image in her mind. Lips, hard and yet velvety soft, not too full but not too thin. A jaw that showed stubbornness and compassion.

“Interesting drawing, my dear girl.”

Jennette started and looked up to see her mother staring at the sketch that consisted of only lips and a jaw. “Mother, what are you about this morning sneaking in and give me a fright?”

Her mother pulled up a chair closer to Jennette and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. Oh dear, she knew that expression.

“I am a tad worried about you, Jennette.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you haven’t been your usual self. You seem distracted lately, as if you have something on your mind and can’t speak of it.” She glanced down at the paper again. “Perhaps you are considering a man?”

“No, Mother.” Jennette swept the paper under her pile and placed her folded hands on top. “I believe you are mistaken. I have been preoccupied with a favor to a friend, that is all.”

“So I have heard.”

Jennette’s eyes widened. “You have?”

“Banning told me all about the uninvited guest at your birthday ball. Would those lips you have concealed be his, perhaps?” Her mother gave her a knowing look.

“No,” Jennette replied far too quickly.

“There are far worse men in the ton than Lord Blackburn,” her mother said softly. “Far worse.”

Jennette knew she had to pretend outrage or no one would ever believe her. She scraped back the chair and stood. “I cannot believe you think I might have an affection toward that man. It is nothing of the sort.”

“Sit down, Jennette,” her mother ordered. “I of all people know not to believe that feigned anger. You, John, and Blackburn were very close. While you chose John, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have felt something—”

“Mother, I did not have feelings for Blackburn.”

Her mother eyed her carefully before tilting her head in a quick nod. “Very well.”

Slowly, she returned to her seat and stared at the papers on her desk. “Mama, when did you know you had fallen in love with Papa?”

“Oh dear,” her mother whispered. “Well, most people wouldn’t believe it, but I knew almost from the start. It made no sense. Then again, when does love ever make sense? He was so much older than I. And yet, I knew the first time I danced with him that I would be his wife.”

“Were you a—attracted to him physically?” Jennette whispered.

“Very much so.”

She looked up into eyes as blue as hers. “Do you think you can be physically attracted to a man without loving him?”

Her mother patted her hand softly. “Unfortunately, I do think it is very possible. But it doesn’t mean we must act on those feelings, my dear.”

“I understand that, Mother. I’m just so confused where he is concerned. I do not love him. I don’t. But…,” her voice trailed off as she stared out the window seeing nothing but the image of Matthew in her head. The look of desperation in his eyes when he talked about his finances. The look of desire when he kissed her.

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“But when he looks at you your insides turn to mush. You feel a certain stab of something undefined in your belly.”

“Yes!”

Her mother shook her head. “Lust,” she whispered.