Page 14 of The Vagabond Viscount
The unfulfilled longing which held her was a cold, hard master. Its claws were sunk deep into her skin.
Flynn stepped closer, and Augusta’s breath caught in her throat. The hopes and dreams she had stuffed into the same corner as her pride now came rushing back out. They danced about in front of her like playful puppies, desperate for attention. It would be a foolish thing to pick them up and give them a little pat.
Foolish but so tempting.
I have to be strong and resist desire. There is no other way to get through this and survive. I must know if his love for me is strong enough.
Their hands brushed against one another, and Augusta screwed her eyes shut. She went to pull her hand away but couldn’t summon the strength. “Please don’t tease me anymore, Flynn. I beg of you. You have made your position clear. Your father will never agree to our union, which means you cannot offer for me. Whatever we had, whatever we were, it’s over. It would be cruel of you to toy with me further, and I hope that you are not that sort of man.” Her voice cracked with emotion. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she hoped she might be. Her resolve was ready to crumble. And when it did, she had no doubt that she would throw herself into Flynn’s embrace and beg him to kiss her.
Augusta was still wishing she was anywhere but here when their fingers twined into one another. A single tear snaked its way down her cheek as she stood gazing out at the half-empty theatre. They were silent for a time. Augusta still searched for the right words to say but knew nothing would help. If this course of action failed, then Flynn was lost to her.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“I wonder how many people will come back for the second act,” he said.
A dejected sigh escaped Augusta’s lips. Flynn had retreated to the safety of small talk. Neutral ground. A place where neither of them had to risk their hearts. If she had any sense, she would take this as the opportunity to concede defeat.
And move on with her life.
“If the other patrons know what is good for them, they will eat the food and then go and seek entertainment elsewhere. The actors are quite good, but the material is a tissue of absurdity,” replied Augusta.
I can’t believe we are standing here holding hands and discussing the play.
Flynn’s grip on her hand tightened. “I expect the poor theatre critic forThe Starwill have to spend his entire Sunday searching for the right words to describe what we have witnessed here tonight. I can think of a few choice words, but most would not be fit for publication.”
Augusta pulled her fingers free of Flynn’s grasp. As she did, her chest tightened, and her breathing grew labored. She could have sworn her heart had actually broken in two.
“It must be awful to have worked to create something and then have it fail,” he added.
I know exactly how that feels.
At least her defeat was something she could suffer in private. The gossip columns of the London papers had only taken notice of Flynn because of his obvious lack of funds and poor attire. They had given him the title of Vagabond Viscount and then, fortunately, moved on. They hadn’t noticed Augusta. She had been spared that humiliation.
She could just imagine what the newspapers would have had to say about the daughter of the Duke of Mowbray conducting a secret love affair with an impoverished noble. They would’ve run out of both ink and paper before they were done.
“Yes. Just because you hoped with all your heart that something would work doesn’t mean it ever will. But I am sure the writer of this doomed play will come up with something fresh very soon. They will put the disappointment behind them. Seek pastures new.”
Flynn met her gaze. His lips opened, and Augusta steeled herself for his reply. But he said nothing. Instead, he moved away as the voices of her brothers drifted in from the hallway outside their box. Gideon and Matthew appeared through the heavy red curtains; both carried a glass of champagne in either hand.
“That was quick,” noted Augusta.
“Yes. It would appear that few people are staying to sample the refreshments. The biggest crush is at the front door. Theatre patrons are flooding out into the street,” replied Gideon, handing her a glass.
Matthew passed a drink to Flynn, then downed his own in quick fashion. “Drink up, everyone. We may as well enjoy the catering before the second act. There is no point in us trying to leave. I expect there will be carriages blocking the road outside for some time to come.”
“Yes, and who knows, if we down a few more glasses of champagne, the play might well start to improve,” added Gideon, offering Flynn a wry smile. Augusta could just imagine that her brother was feeling sorry for his friend, sharing in the viscount’s embarrassment.
Augusta’s gaze fixed on Matthew’s empty glass. It would be so easy to do as her brothers had suggested and dull her pain with a glass or three of sparkling wine. She could pay the price and stay in bed tomorrow. Hiding under the blankets seemed the best place in the world to be right this very minute.
But she wouldn’t.
You are Lady Augusta Kembal, and you will conduct yourself with all due decorum.
Her governess’s teachings were well ingrained. A lady might suffer disappointment and heartache, but she kept those things private. Never allowed them to cloud her judgment. Emotions were to be carefully controlled. One might consider a spontaneous moment of indulgence, but a lady never acted upon that impulse.
I should have listened to my own counsel long ago and not let things get to where they did with Flynn. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground when I let him kiss me that first time. When I agreed to our secret affair. I was a fool.
But her heart had made its demands clear, ignoring all the risks. The moment Flynn had touched her, had taken her into his embrace, all sense and reason had been lost.
