The Unlacing of Miss Leigh. Diane Gaston

Their grandfather and Henry’s father had been schoolmasters. Margaret’s parents had run a small boarding school in their home to supplement their father’s church living. She and Andrew had always been surrounded by books and lessons and learning.

      Until her mother died of influenza and her father could not manage the boarders alone. He’d used every spare penny to send Andrew to a good school, and Margaret had never begrudged the expense.

      “My brother has a mind that begs for education. Now I can provide it for him.” She squeezed the purse.

      Graham touched her arm and the warmth of his touch radiated through her. “I merely was surprised the money was not for yourself.”

      She returned a steady gaze. “Andrew’s schooling is more important.”

      He tilted his head as if examining her anew.

      Threading her arm though his again, he continued their stroll. The paths were now much darker, and from the deep recesses of the shrubbery came sounds of murmuring and laughter. Ever since the Newells had chased her, Margaret had hated walking through woods, but with Graham she would be happy to walk all the way to the hermit who inhabited the farthest reaches of the Gardens.

      “Tell me more about your brother,” he said.

      She complied, telling of Andrew’s love of physics, of chemistry and of all things mechanical. Graham asked questions and seemed to listen to her answers. Margaret could almost delude herself that he was a beau, instead of a man who’d paid for her company. Because he was Graham, she wished he was a beau.

      As they walked on, two men burst from the shrubbery and stumbled onto the path ahead of them. Margaret jumped back, uttering a cry. Graham wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the trees, his black domino cloaking them both. The two young men, deep in their cups, staggered by, talking loudly and apparently never noticing them.

      Still, Margaret trembled under Graham’s embrace.

      “I would allow no harm to come to you,” he whispered in her ear.

      Her trembling came not from feeling again like that little girl clinging to the boy who rescued her, but from an acute awareness that he was a boy no longer. He was a man with a man’s needs, and was willing to pay to have those needs met. His arms felt wonderful around her, his strong muscles holding her with such reassuring confidence. Her body was pressed against his, and it seemed that all his power and strength were melding with her.

      Her breathing quickened, and sensation flared through her. She felt hungry for more, although she did not know precisely what made her ravenous. She only knew this moment must never end or she would surely perish.

      Unfortunately he released her, but slowly, as if as reluctant as she to break the embrace. Still clasping her arms with his strong fingers, he looked down on her, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim light, pleading for something she wanted desperately to give him, but not knowing precisely what it was he desired. He lowered his head and Margaret’s excitement grew. She rose onto her toes.

      The sounds of more revelers came near. He again enveloped her in his domino. “We will walk back to the supper boxes,” he rasped.

      Her disappointment was crushing.

      They walked in silence, and Margaret searched her mind for a question she could ask him, a question that was not Why did you release me?