Free Lady Disguised (Tenacious Trents Novella) (Tenacous Trents) by Jane Charles

Hélène couldn’t make out what they were saying.
She anxiously watched the door, waiting for them to enter. Surely Elizabeth was
wrong. 
    Jordan and Bentley appeared much
happier than when they left, whereas Stanwick looked more serious and perhaps
angry, if the tightness of his jaw was any indication. Perhaps her brothers had
simply warned him away.
    “Congratulations,” Bentley began.
    “No,” Hélène said before he could
say anything further.
    “They are correct,” Stanwick
said, his tone all that was proper and respectful, unlike when he sat with her
before they arrived. “I am honored to be betrothed.”
    He certainly didn’t look as
though he was pleased. “Whom shall you be marrying? It surely isn’t me.”
    His eyebrows rose in surprise.
Did he think she would swoon and thank him for the sacrifice? Did nobody in
this room know her?
    “But I compromised you,” Stanwick
insisted.
    “By kissing me?” She practically
laughed. This was ridiculous.
    “He saw your bared leg as well,”
Jordan informed her. “When you fainted, he carried you to your room and saw
what damage had been done to your injury.”
    Heat infused her face. She hadn’t
known that bit, which was slightly mortifying. Still, it didn’t signify. “He is
also not the first man who has seen me near a state of undress.”
    They all stared at her as if
dumbfounded. Various stages of shock were registered on their faces. 
    “Hélène?” Bentley found his voice
first “How could this be?” he asked slowly, his cheeks turning red. 
    It took a moment before it dawned
on her that he might think she had taken lovers. Clearly, none of those in the
room had experience being back stage during a production. She laughed again,
which further confused them. Of course, if she claimed to have had lovers,
perhaps they wouldn’t make Stanwick marry her or force a Season on her. But
Hélène wouldn’t lie to them, nor did she wish to sully her reputation.
    “Costume changes,” she finally
said. “Sometimes a scene changes too quickly for an actor or actress to get
back to their dressing room, and they change clothing in the wings.”
    Bentley’s shoulders relaxed, and
Jordan blew out a breath. They really had thought she had taken lovers. How
nice to know how highly her brothers regarded her.
    “I can assure you that many men
have seen me in my shift, corset, and pantaloons.” She leaned forward and
whispered. “And even more have seen my stockinged calves.”
    Bentley straightened and frowned
at her. “That does not dismiss or excuse what we walked in on this afternoon.”
    They were all taking the kiss—a
most enjoyable kiss—far too seriously. She wasn’t about to let the delicious
incident change the course of her life. “You’re forcing Stanwick to marry me
because of a simple kiss? I can assure you that I have been kissed by dozens of
men.” Perhaps the number was a little high, but she had been kissed by twelve
different men prior to this afternoon. Stanwick made thirteen and by far the best.
    “Pardon?” Bentley choked out.
    “You heard me.”
    Stanwick thrust his fingers
through his hair. “How many of these kisses occurred on stage, and how many did
not?”
    Why did it matter, she wanted to
ask, but she knew the answer and the very reason she didn’t wish to tell them.
    “How many?” Stanwick asked again.
    “All of them.”
    “Stage kisses?” Stanwick
clarified. “You certainly can’t compare the two.”
    Heat infused her cheeks. There
certainly was a difference, but Hélène suspected that to admit such a thing would
only convince Bentley they must marry. “It hardly signifies if there is a
difference because I refuse to marry you.”

    Stanwick thought her rejection
would bring relief. If the woman refused, there was little he could do, and he
was free to continue on as he had. Yet disappointment shot through him. He
didn’t want to be married, yet he didn’t like it one bit that she refused to
marry him. He