Chapter 16
That evening Thomas could not bear the thought of finding himself face to face with Owen and his questions and so instead, he made his way discreetly to bed, certain there would be questions enough in the morning.
Yet when he laid in bed, he found all he could do was toss and turn. It took hours to fall to sleep and when he finally did Miss Skeffington still haunted him. He dreamt of her without fear of being caught in inappropriate situations, his mind let loose to do as it pleased.
She lay naked beneath him, her alabaster skin perfectly flawless, her deep hazel eyes gazing up at him with unveiled desire. When her soft hands hooked around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her, her gaze showing no signs of protestation, instead sinking himself deep inside her with a need that had taken on a life of its own. He thrust and groaned while she gasped and moaned beneath him, her musical pleasure urging him onward.
And when the final act came, Thomas sat bolt upright in bed, dripping sweat, and feeling mighty uncomfortable in his loins. His manhood throbbed, his insides twisting with pent up frustration.
There was a time when he might have done something about it, relieved himself or maybe even found his way to the bedroom of the young woman who had gotten him so worked up, but remembering his conversation with Miss Skeffington, he could not bring himself to do either.
He would not allow her the satisfaction, even if she would never really know. His own stubbornness and the knowledge that he would be aware of the fact forced him from his bed instead.
It was later than he had anticipated when he rose and pulled back the drapes. He found that the sun had already begun to rise. Likely his trouble falling to sleep had been the cause for his sleeping in. He cringed, imagining just how long he'd been having inappropriate dreams about Miss Skeffington.
Pushing her from his mind, he dressed quickly for breakfast, almost certain that he would eat alone again. He could only pray that Miss Skeffington would not have done the same two days in a row as he had.
By the time he arrived at the breakfast room, Thomas found that many of the guests were already departing the table. Amongst them was Miss Skeffington herself. Upon seeing her rising from her seat, Thomas' heart stopped, his gaze travelling to the expanse of her pale slender neck where he had kissed her over and over in his dreams the night before. His manhood began to throb once more, and he was glad for the thick material of his breeches keeping it in check.
It was not until he saw the gentleman standing behind her, pulling her seat out, that his insides twisted painfully, and he was forced to grit his teeth. There was a hungry glint in Mr Gouldsmith's eye. He offered Miss Skeffington his elbow and she took it with a smile.Have I pushed her right into his arms?Thomas wondered, remembering how Mr Gouldsmith had been the first gentleman to speak with her after their conflict the night before.
"Ah, there you are, Thomas!" Owen called from the head of the table, drawing Thomas' gaze reluctantly away from the couple who were saying their farewells. Thomas thought he overheard something about their going for a walk in the east gardens as he moved to take a seat beside his friend. He forced himself not to watch as Miss Skeffington and Mr Gouldsmith disappeared with a maid in tow.
"Are you well, Thomas? It is not like you to rise late two days in a row?" Owen asked the moment he had seated himself. Looking into his friend's eyes he could tell he was also thinking of the lack of their sharing a night cap the evening before.
"I am perfectly well," Thomas assured him though his stomach twisted with guilt. He was not being entirely truthful. He was all knotted up inside.
Breakfast went by as Thomas had expected, with mildly veiled questions from Owen and Nancy watching him out of the corner of her eye. That woman could smell lies a mile away. Thomas was certain of it and so he was extra careful with his answers.
Having survived, and with little else to do, Thomas found himself wandering out to the gardens, cautious to remember where Miss Skeffington and Mr Gouldsmith had gone. He did not wish to run into them and cause Miss Skeffington to think that he was watching them.
And so, he took himself down to the end of the west lawn where a small pond resided, sheltered by the branches of a weeping willow. The morning sun was much warmer than Thomas had anticipated and he slipped beneath the drooping branches to rest beside the tree's trunk.
It was not long after he'd closed his eyes, hoping for some rest that would not lead to wildly vivid dreams, that he heard voices coming from somewhere in the distance. The hair on the back of his neck rose immediately. He would recognise that melodic voice anywhere.
They said the east gardens!Thomas assured himself even as he hurried to his feet and carefully positioned himself behind the trunk. Through a gap where the overhanging branches were less dense, Thomas caught sight of them.
Miss Skeffington and Mr Gouldsmith were walking arm in arm. Thomas cringed at just how closely they were walking. Her laughter did not help matters. A sound that had thrilled him when caused by his humour now grated upon him.
How could I have been so foolish?Thomas asked, seeing the way that Miss Skeffington chuckled and tapped Mr Gouldsmith playfully upon the forearm and the way that she fluttered her lashes and gazed at him intently as he led her across the lawn in the direction of the pond.
Thomas moved as they moved, keeping the tree trunk carefully positioned between them. The willow branches marred his way, making it impossible for him to see them any longer but he could hear them. He could hear the flirtatious tones coming from the couple, Miss Skeffington's over-eager laughter, and how easily they entered into conversation.
A glimpse of black told Thomas that at least the maid was still shadowing them. He pictured himself kissing Miss Skeffington in the observatory the day before, hoping that Mr Gouldsmith would not have the nerve to do so while there was a maid present.
Why should I mind?He thought himself a total fool. After all that had happened, after Miss Skeffington's determination that she wanted nothing to do with Lady Kendall's plans, how could he have been so naive?How could I allow myself to fall for…he cut off the thought, determined not to finish it because then it would be true.
Of all the people she might have rejected him for, why did it have to be Mr Gouldsmith? The man was clearly untrustworthy and quite annoying, though somehow everybody loved him. Thomas could not for the life of him think why. He had disliked the man from his first meeting and now he loathed him.
Thomas' hands gripped the tree trunk so tightly that he felt the bark grating his skin. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the couple, holding his breath, determined to stay hidden until they were gone. He had never wanted anything to do with Lady Kendall's plans either.
He reminded himself of the fact and tried to silently wish Miss Skeffington well in her endeavours. A small part of him wanted to crash through the willow branches and rescue her from Mr Gouldsmith's clutches but instead he remained stock-still, listening to the couple's voices receding away from the pond after some talk about the pond-life.
Nice way to entice her,Thomas scoffed.