The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton Read Online Free PDF Page B

find a situation closer.”
    He looked haughty again, reminding her that this was still Tarquin Compton, the toplofty terror of the ton . For a few minutes there she’d almost believed in Terence Fish, her charming half-dressed fiancé who made jokes about his own name. To avoid his inquisitive gaze, she shifted around and sat beside him, sharing the backrest of the sturdy tree trunk.
    “I don’t know why you came to the north, but I’m glad you did. Perhaps it was fate that we both ended up here. I lived in India until two years ago.”
    “How in the name of Zeus did you end up a governess in Yorkshire?”
    Changing the subject from his invented life to her (mostly) true one had definite appeal. “It’s a long story.”
    “Before you begin, we should decide whether to go any farther tonight. It will be dark in little more than an hour.”
    “My feet would prefer to stay here, yet they might be persuaded to walk another mile or two if there was a meal at the end of them.” Her stomach growled horribly.
    “I suppose nothing edible has magically appeared in that bag?” he asked.
    She picked up the sack and peered in. “I can smell roast chicken. No, I’m mistaken. Just a pile of rags. And a cup.”
    Across the stream rolling moorland stretched for miles ahead. “I think,” he said, “we should resign ourselves to fasting tonight. Here we have water, and the shelter of this tree. I also doubt we can cross the stream without getting our clothes wet and I’d rather do it in the morning when we have time to dry off.” He reached for the bag. “Let me fill that cup.”
    Remembering the book, Celia retrieved the cup herself and thrust the bag behind her. “Here. Or let me.” She stood and winced when her foot hit a stone.
    “Are you injured? Let me look. You tended to my wounds, now let me return the favor.” He knelt before her, his dark head bent low. His touch on her ankle gave her a shocking little tingle.
    She pulled away her foot. “Thank you but there’s no need. My feet are sore but no skin broken. I bathed them when I soaked the rag.”
    “A foot bath is an appealing idea. I’ll go and do it now and fetch us some water. Will you give me a hand up?”
    The touch of his fingers, the brush of his body as he stood, sent a tremor through hers. “I look forward to a serving of Eau de Yorkshire brook,” she said hastily. “An excellent vintage, I am sure.”
    He smiled at her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. We’ll toast our escape and our betrothal and then you can tell me the story of your life.”
    Celia had never seen Tarquin Compton smile. It made his harsh, characterful face appear incredibly handsome. As she settled back against the tree, she began to feel quite guilty for deceiving him. He was being such a good sport about their predicament. The thought of confessing her lies was daunting. It was bad enough to spend the night out in the wilds with an almost strange man. She had no doubt that if she confessed the truth now he would become an exceedingly angry man. Once they reached Mrs. Stewart’s she’d have to tell him who he was, and hope the knowledge would bring back his memory. If not, her friend would find him a doctor and they could contact his relations.
    “Ahem.” The subject of her thoughts stood over her.
    “That was quick,” she said.
    He looked sheepish, another expression new to Mr. Compton. “My boots fit so well I can’t get them off. I daresay that’s why the thief didn’t take them with the rest of my clothing.”
    Naturally Tarquin Compton wouldn’t be like lesser mortals, whose boots tended to wrinkle, or even sag, around the ankles. His were perfectly smooth, molding his calves almost to knee height.
    “Let me try,” she said. “Sit down.”
    Removing a man’s footwear was an oddly intimate business. In the few hours spent in his company, nothing else had seemed more indecent. Absurd since when they met they’d both been half-naked. Even lying together,