Free There Will Be Phlogiston by Riptide Publishing

to paint this. Its beauty was in its
motion, its transience, the fact that every moment belonged only to
itself, and then was gone forever.
    She found a rocky ledge that was not too damp or
dirty, and sat down on it, folding her skirts over her arm and
tucking up her feet so that her boots didn’t get splashed. She was
thinking about Jones and how strange it was to be liked for being
unlikeable. For all the things she wasn’t supposed to be.
    It made rather a nonsense of her entire life.
    But, on the other hand, it felt so wickedly good,
she could hardly resent it. And she wanted to be kissed again. For
being Rosamond. By the uncouth, vulgar, horrible commoner who saw
her.
    It was a good twenty minutes before Jones joined her
on the rock. What she nearly said was I would like to be kissed
now . But she just about managed to be rude instead. “You took
your time.”
    “If it’s my pride or my neck, my neck is going to
win every time. Enjoy your run?”
    Rudeness faltered in the face of undeniable
gratitude. “Oh yes. She’s perfect. The best of horses. Thank you
for . . . for . . . saving her. I can’t . . . That is . . . Thank
you.”
    Good heavens, now she was blushing? How
insanely infuriating. It was the last thing she wanted.
    Jones shrugged. “I did it for you. She’s yours.”
    “Sir, I couldn’t possibly.”
    “Don’t you want her?”
    Yes . “It wouldn’t be proper.”
    “Why not?”
    “A lady not does accept gifts from a gentleman who
is not her husband or a member of her family. People would think I
was your mistress.”
    He made the oddest sound, almost a laugh, but too
sad. “Not you as well.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Me neither. People keep saying that to me.”
    She didn’t like the sound of that at all .
“Why?” she asked, coldly. “Are you in the habit of giving
inappropriate gifts to other ladies?”
    “No. No gifts.” Jones stared at the water, his eyes
full of its reflections. “He was a friend.”
    Rosamond’s mind whirled. He? A friend?
    Then: Arkady told me .
    Memory snapped into place. Images in a fresh
context. The way Lord Mercury’s eyes rarely strayed from Jones. The
way they stood together, moved together, unspoken intimacy in all
the spaces between them. Touching in all their nontouching.
    So why the fuck had he kissed her?
    She swallowed fury. Bitterness. Betrayal she surely
had no right to feel.
    “Well.” She was proud of the steadiness of her
voice. “You are one of those men who prefer men.”
    “Not prefer, no.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means up in the blue you don’t turn away love.
However it comes.”
    “Even if it is wrong?”
    “How can love be wrong?”
    “Perhaps,” she snapped, “if one was kissing one
person when one had already given one’s heart to another.”
    There was a long silence. Jones picked up a pebble
and skimmed it across the stream: one, two, three, plop .
“Arkady has never wanted my heart.”
    Rosamond scowled. She had intended to be very cross
with him, and now she didn’t want to be. Couldn’t be. Not when he
sounded so very . . . hurt. “Why ever not?”
    “He doesn’t believe a man can feel for a man the way
a man can feel for a woman.” He glanced at her and grinned. “And
don’t sound so surprised, sweet Ros. You don’t want my heart
either.”
    “Lady Rosamond, if you please. And I have a
sensible reason.”
    “What’s that, then?”
    “Well, there’s the fact you’re a commoner, and I am
a lady. There’s my duty to my family. There’s . . . there’s . . .
other things that are very important.”
    “And happiness?”
    “I’m sure I shall be terribly happy when I am a
marchioness.”
    “I hope so. But I still think you’re making a
mistake.”
    She stiffened. “Why is that?”
    “Because if you married me, you’d also get a
carnivorous horse.”
    The mingling of their laughter felt strangely
intimate. As natural as the splash of water over stone.
    “You’ll just have to