Free The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella by Caylen McQueen Page B

drowned out her judgment. As soon as she opened her window, Brittley slipped through the frame and swaggered into her room as if he belonged there.
    “Good evening, Emilia. You're in good spirits, I hope?” When Brittley saw her tear-soaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, he added, “Well... it's quite obvious that you're not . What's troubling you?”
    “Nothing.”
    Brittley sat on the end of her bed. Mr. Fibbles tried to approach him, but Brittley wasn't a fan of cats, so he scooped him up and dropped him to the floor. “How was the wedding? Was it everything Wilomena hoped it would be?”
    “It was a beautiful wedding.”
    “I see. So what's the reason for your tears?”
    “Tears?” Emilia swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Christian.”
    “So you say. But it's obvious you've been crying, girl.” Brittley gently patted his leg. “Would you like to sit on my lap? I am sure I could significantly improve your mood.”
    “You shouldn't say things like that. In fact, you shouldn't be here at all! If Arthur knew--”
    “Arthur...” Brittley scoffed the name. “He's such a spoilsport. I have nothing to fear from Arthur Rochefort. He's really just a weak little man... all bravado and nothing to back it up!”
    “I-I don't even know why I let you in. I think you should go.”
    Brittley crossed his arms. “I'm not leaving.”
    “Please. Please . I want you to go!”
    “I don't think you do.”
    Emilia opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed they were at a standstill. Brittley didn't seem like the sort of man who would back down very easily. Now that he was inside her room, she had no idea how to dispose of him.
    “Have you ever been kissed before?” Brittley asked.
    “I...”
    “Your hesitation tells me you haven't.” He lay on her bed and propped an arm behind his head, as if he intended to stay for quite some time. “You can trust me, Emilia. Tell me the truth.”
    “I... haven't,” she confessed.
    “And how old are you? Eighteen? How tragic. You should have had your first kiss by now,” Brittley said. “But your first kiss should be from a man , not some young lad who's still wet behind the ears.”
    “Well, Mr. Christian...” Emilia could feel her heart fluttering, like a butterfly learning how to fly. In light of her epiphanies about Arthur, she felt even more inclined to flirt with Brittley. “ You seem like a man with experience.”
    “Indeed I am.” He held out his arms. “Come. Join me on the bed.”
    Emilia gasped. “I will not! I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing!” Emilia looked down at Mr. Fibbles, whose glowing eyes were peering at her from beneath the bed. For some reason, those yellow eyes seemed ominous.
    “Then I shall come to you!” Brittley rose from the bed and went to Emilia's side. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, crushing her against his chest. “Do you want to kiss me, Emilia?”
    She pushed on his chest, but her struggle was feeble. “No.”
    “Don't lie to me, Emilia. I know you want to kiss me.” He was so close to her, his whispered words fluttered a tendril of her hair. “Will you let me kiss you?”
    “No.”
    “No? Are you sure about that?” While his right arm encompassed her waist, he stroked her cheek with his left hand. “I see the way you look at me. It's undeniable.”
    Emilia closed her eyes and wished, for a single moment, that it was Arthur saying these things to her. She tried to imagine how she would feel, how her heart would be soaring. But it was Brittley. Why did it have to be Brittley?!
    She wanted to preserve her lips for Arthur, but she knew she was foolish for wanting such a thing. It wasn't as if Arthur would ever want to kiss her.
    And Brittley could be very persuasive.
    “V-very well,” she agreed. “You may kiss me... if you really want to.”
    Brittley did not hesitate. He mashed his mouth against hers, claiming her lips. He