~ The 12th Kiss ~

by

Laura N. Hogg

Fine carriages were everywhere, and handsome couples walked into the doorway of the opera theater. Relief heard the orchestra practicing as people filed in. Her husband walked a little ways and greeted a friend, but he turned and looked upon Relief with love from a few yards away. It made her almost decide to change her plans, almost. She closed her eyes, and Honora touched her arm.

“Leafy?”

“I’m well. Plans as usual, Honora,” she whispered.

“There will be no time to dress you as a boy.”

“I do not care anymore. I miss being who I am. It cannot concern me further if I am seen as I am, at least for tonight. I’ll worry about disguises later.”

“How could he do this to you, Relief? I know that he thinks he is protecting you, but this is not fair. I know it breaks your heart.”

She turned and gave Honora a look as her heart thumped with sorrow, and she nodded. She pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you, sweetheart, for everything you do.”

Honora squeezed her. “Mum and Pop are here at the performance as well as our intimidating brothers. You know they will help him, do you not?”

“I know,” she sighed.

She felt a pang of regret and loss. She looked over and into his eyes with regret for what she was about to do.

“I love you,” she saw him mouth.

He watched her ardently, then came to her, took her hand, and guided her to their seats. Later during the intermission he stood and squeezed her into his arms.

“Ah, beloved.”

She closed her eyes, and she felt tears sting them. He pulled away.

“Relief?” he almost whispered. He leaned closer.

“Are you going to kiss me, my lord?” She opened her eyes and muttered from softly parted lips, preparing for the warmth of his lips.

He drew close and stopped a breath away.

“Kiss me, Relief. Give me the twelfth, and I will be your husband in full tonight. I long to share that with you, my love.”

She shook her head, feeling remorse.

“Then my wife, I will not kiss you.”

“Benjamin--”

She grasped the sleeve of his expensive suit. “My lord husband.”

“I hope you cannot doubt I am grateful to my bones that I am your husband, Relief. It goes beyond wanting to make love to you. I am just so very happy to belong to you. Now, let us speak no more of this until after the performance,” he said with tenderness that made her knees buckle.

A tear ran down her face as she watched the performance.

~ * ~

Relief and Honora stood up to leave the box. Lord Cheltham stood to go with them, but she smiled and assured him that all was well, that they would be back presently. Moments after she left, a young man dressed in fine clothes approached Lord Cheltham and handed him a folded note. He took it from him eagerly and opened it.

We should not suit.

Relief

He dropped the paper.

He immediately jumped up, calling for her. He looked around, but he couldn’t find her. His heart began to race. He grew increasingly worried that she had been kidnapped. Perhaps the note was forced. She wouldn’t leave, would she? He alerted security and the Moore family. A search began. Honora was missing, too.

~ * ~

They were racing like the wind on horseback, still in their opera clothes. It started to rain heavily, and the wind picked up. At some time around midnight, they slammed open the door to the rough, run-down inn. They were breathing heavily and pressed against the front wall. Relief reached out an arm and shut the door.

The place was filled with men, gruff, sloppy, drunken, hungry-looking men, and they were staring at the ladies with their wet dresses clinging to every inch of their bodies. A couple of choice spirits were singing and bellowing in the back. Several candied fellows grinned liked starving cats eyeing a bit of cream. Relief touched Honora’s arm.

“Do not leave my side, sister.”

“Not if you paid me ten thousand guineas.”

“There’s that number again,” she said and grinned. “You are obsessed with it!”

One man approached them. “Ladies?”

“We are in need of drinks.” She tried to pull Honora toward the bar. He stepped in front of her.

“Allow me to buy them for you.”

“No, thank you, sir.”

He frowned. “What’s the matter? Too good for me?”

“No, sir. We do not accept gifts from men we do not know. We are proper ladies.”

A couple of other men stood up. They were big, and they smelled like manure.

“Tonight you will accept a gift. A big one!” The man gestured to his lower regions.

That inspired every man around him to burst out into laughter.

Relief pushed Honora behind herself and took a wide-footed stance, hands up, palms out. The man directly in front of her started chuckling. At first it was a low rumble in his throat and then it built up until it flew out of his mouth with great mockery. The other men in the room soon joined him in his mirth. He stepped toward Relief. In less than two seconds, she had him face down on the floor, and she was twisting his arm fiercely as he yelled out. Honora went to him and kicked his side with her little foot. She jutted her chin out proudly.

Another man attacked. Relief jumped up, spun around and kicked him in the chest. He went flying. Two more men lurched at them. She rendered them senseless, lying on the floor, and stood hunched forward, her open palms in the air, her eyes promising a world of pain. More dared to come forth. Honora stood against the wall, her chin up proudly.

The innkeeper spoke. “I thought you said that you were proper ladies.”

“We are. We just know how to fight.”

“What will you ladies have?” He knitted his brow and looked around. Several men were rubbing various parts of their bodies, wincing in their pain.

~ * ~

At one-thirty a.m. a lord dressed in breeches laced over a pair of fine shoes, a quality shirt, a lush white cravat with a diamond pin sparkling within its folds and a velvet trimmed coat pushed open the door, dripping wet; long, drenched strands of blond hair sticking to his neck, and falling to his shoulders; and he gripped a pistol at his side. He was accompanied by an angry-looking stout man even bigger in muscle size than he was, nicely dressed as well, but obviously not a lord, more like an American. The lord strode across the room with his friend and sat at the bar, great perturbation marring his features. He ordered a drink and slammed it down. He gestured rapidly for another. The innkeeper poured him one.

“What troubles you this night, my lord?”

“My wife has been kidnapped. My brother-in-law and I are searching around here. I have others looking elsewhere. Have you seen anything unusual this way tonight?”

Chuckling caused him to turn around.

“Is something funny?”