Chapter Twenty-Two
She was ruined. Esme understood how a kiss would ruin girls in the Victorian age. How being caught out on a balcony alone with a gentleman was grounds for instant matrimony. She wished she could suffer the consequences of marriage. To leg-shackle Leo into a wedding and have him kiss her like that every night and then on into the day and another taste at lunch.
But they hadn’t been caught. Then she had walked away. And he hadn’t come.
Not later that night. Not early the next morning. Not at all.
Because she wasn’t good enough. Her blood wasn’t royal blue. Just her shirt collar. Esme tugged at the collar of her blouse and dabbed the corner of her eyes with the fabric.
He’d taken just a taste of her, he said. Just a sip to know what it would be like. A morsel to savor
