The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella by Shana Galen Read Free Book Online

smile. Disarming , that was the word for him.
    “I will slow. No need to tell me a secret.” She waited for him to reach her. “Unless you want to.” Why had she added that? She did not want to begin exchanging secrets with him. She had none she would share.
    “Are you certain you want to hear this?” he asked when they were walking side by side again.
    “No.”
    “I’ll tell you anyway.” He lowered his voice and leaned close to her. Even after several hours in the woods, he still smelled of tobacco and bergamot, scents she very much associated with Town. “I hated the cavalry.”
    She waited for him to go on, but he didn’t say more. She glanced into his face. He watched her, his expression expectant.
    “Don’t most men hate the war?”
    “Most, yes, but that’s not what I said. Of course I hated the war. It was awful. Generals sending you to one town and then back to the same one you left. Half the war was traipsing about the countryside. And the food was miserable. I must have lost two stone during the war. It seemed every time we were about to have a decent meal, we’d have to rush off to battle. You can imagine what having the enemy shoot at you does to digestion.”
    She laughed. She wasn’t certain if he’d meant to be amusing, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you take anything seriously?”
    “A great many things. I took the war seriously. It was a serious pain in my arse. I took my training seriously, but I hadn’t been in the 13 th for a fortnight before I knew it wasn’t for me. Most men love the drills and the camaraderie and the flash of the uniform. I found it all pointless.”
    “Even the uniform?” She raised a brow.
    He pointed a finger at her. “Very well. I did like the uniform.”
    “And now you’ve sold out, like Mr. Gage.”
    “I sold out before Gage. I wasted no time.”
    “And how do you fill your days now? You haven’t a wife.” She paused and glanced at him.
    He shook his head.
    “You aren’t the heir, and you’ve resigned your commission. Do you have an estate to oversee?”
    “My mother has one that came with her dowry. It’s mine when she is gone.”
    The roof of the Friar’s House came into view just over the trees ahead of them. “But she is still living.”
    “Yes.” He paused, having seen the house as well.
    “I suppose that gives you leisure to visit your friend.”
    He lowered his gaze from the house and focused it on her. “I had little choice, if you want the truth. My father exiled me from London.”
    She drew in a breath. Whatever had he done? She couldn’t ask such an impertinent question. “For how long?”
    “As yet undetermined. Until I mend my ways, I suppose.”
    “Have you mended them?”
    “No.”
    He stepped closer, reached out, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She realized she’d forgotten her bonnet at the stream. Her hair must look a fright. Belatedly, she also realized she should step back. She should not allow him to touch her hair or run the side of his hand along her cheek. But she didn’t stop him. If they’d been deep in the woods, if they’d been far from anyone else, she would have. But he’d waited until they stood in the shadow of the house, until they stood in safety.
    “I thought I would mend them, and then I met you. You say what’s on your mind. You aren’t afraid to dig in the dirt. You wear the ugliest dresses I have ever seen, and still you hold your head high.”
    “This dress isn’t ugly,” she said, looking down at it.
    His hand slid around her waist. “It’s hideous, and that makes me want to kiss you all the more.” His lips were but inches from hers. “I should not kiss you.”
    “No, you shouldn’t.”
    He touched his nose lightly to hers. “If I’d mended my ways, I would release you and go my own way. But if I shouldn’t kiss you, I want to all the more.”
    “You are truly a reprobate,” she whispered, her throat too tight for speech.
    “Will you tell me to