wildflower chapter 18

“Yes, I’d like that. Let’s have some fun.”

The thought that he might be similarly friendless put her at ease.

“Lord Regid, you said I could ask you anything.”

“Yes, I did.”

“…Are there men who dislike kissing?”

“Well…” Despite the unexpected question, Victor adopted a thoughtful expression. “If it were a kiss with a woman he intensely disliked, it could be unpleasant.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Cairn couldn’t possibly dislike her that much. If he did, he wouldn’t have said, ‘I’ll do anything for you.’

“Hmm… a man who dislikes kissing women in general… it’s possible, I suppose, if he has unusual preferences. Perhaps he lacks… desire?”

As*xual. She’d read about it in a medical journal. The paper had been met with much criticism upon its release, but she’d found it quite intriguing. Love couldn’t be controlled, and what could one do if those feelings were directed at no one? She understood that completely. Her own heart wasn’t directed where she willed it to be.

***

As soon as her promised dance ended, she returned to the de Vermore estate. Uncharacteristically, she practically ran from the carriage to her room.

“Matilda! Ink! Ink!” she called as she hurried up the stairs.

“Yes, Miss!” came the distant reply from the drawing-room.

She sat at her desk and closed her eyes. Now… what did it feel like? Hesitant at first, then a fluffy cloud blossoming in my chest, and finally, a wetness…

She dipped her quill into the last of the ink. ‘Perhaps it was due to my heightened sense of touch, more acute than sight or sound. No bells rang. The mental pleasure of invading another’s intimate space came first.’

Ignoring the black ink staining the side of her hand, she continued. ‘Yet, mental connection wasn’t the entirety of the experience. The best part was the sensation of him slowly stroking the delicate membranes within me.’

“Miss, here’s the ink.”

Matilda entered as she was writing the final sentence. Accustomed to her mistress’s obliviousness to her surroundings when engrossed in her work, Matilda quietly placed the inkwell on the desk and waited.

‘As my lips grew moist, a warm feeling spread through my chest. The most perplexing thing was the wetness between my legs, a place I’d never touched. I’d been taught that a first kiss was a sacred act, so why did a part of me feel… soiled? I couldn’t understand.’

It was rather embarrassing, but it was her honest reaction. Her true feelings, a secret she would keep from Cairn forever.

“Finished.”

She blew on the ink to dry it quickly, folded the paper neatly, and locked it away in her drawer. The flickering candlelight illuminated her bright face.

“Oh! Wait a moment, Matilda.” Remembering something, she pulled a small envelope from the drawer above and handed it to her maid. “This month’s wages.”

Matilda accepted it with trembling hands.

“Miss, it’s alright if it’s a little late.”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned it. I don’t want to be a cruel employer.”

“Miss, I don’t mean to overstep, but the Count’s business is still…”

With the migration of the estate’s tenants to the city, income from the land had dwindled. The nation’s primary industry was shifting from agriculture to trade, and although the Count de Vermore had belatedly invested in the railway, using land as collateral, it hadn’t been easy. To make matters worse, the upkeep of their inherited townhouses in various cities was a considerable expense.

“I know. But things will get better soon. I have faith in Father.”

She smiled reassuringly, but she wasn’t entirely optimistic herself. The fact that no one outside the family knew of their precarious financial situation was even more distressing.

‘Lilian, marry when you can provide a dowry.’

Her father’s increasing pressure made their declining finances all too real. But she didn’t want to marry for such a reason. If she married and her family fell into ruin, she would undoubtedly become a thorn in her in-laws’ side. She’d rather live in the countryside, hiding her identity and working as a governess, than endure such a life.

“Matilda, I’ll make sure your wages are taken care of. Don’t worry.”

That was why she clung to her writing so fiercely. What had begun as an escape from her controlling father had become her livelihood.

“I’ll… I’ll find a way.”

Servants were being dismissed under various pretexts. Her father’s funds were clearly running out.

Money.

She needed money.