Living London Read online

  A smile spread across my lips, yet I forced my features into an innocent expression. "Of course, a little rain never hurt anyone. Although I did ruin a bonnet." I couldn't help but grin as I heard Morgan cough, his expression both amused and aroused in remembering just how "ruined" the bonnet had become.

  Arynna cast a suspicious glance in his direction, clearly not understanding our innuendos. "Yes, well."

  "Well, I'm sure I'll see you soon." I spoke quickly, not wanting to give her an opportunity for further questioning. I was done being nice. With that, I nodded and walked away. Morgan followed behind me shortly, escorting me to one of the rooms adjacent to the grand ballroom.

  "I think I'm ready to leave," I stated, tired and not wanting to converse with a very determined Lord Rake who had spotted me.

  "I'll get your carriage," Morgan promised and left.

  I turned away from Lord Heath's approach. I doubted I'd avert the conversation, but I was so going to try.

  "Miss Westin," came the all too familiar voice.

  "Lord Rake," I responded without apology.

  He smiled, fitting the name perfectly. "I'll assume you meant to compliment me, so I'll take it as such." He bowed his head as his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle.

  "You would," I said as I turned back toward the dance floor.

  "You wound me, Miss Westin. What have I done to offend you so?" His feigned sincerity did nothing to dull my anger.

  "I have all faith you will survive my verbal assault. And you need to do nothing but simply breathe to offend me." I glanced back at him, awaiting his reaction.

  Unaffected, he continued to smirk, enjoying the verbal sparring. "Then I will try to hold my breath."

  "Please do."

  "Where is your friend, Miss Westin?" The question I was dreading.

  "She's… unwell at the moment and chose to leave early." Suffering from a broken heart… because of you.

  His playful demeanor changed, and he appeared to be genuinely concerned, which didn't add up. He held no real affection for her, did he? "What is wrong?" His tense posture negated his casual question.

  "Nothing serious, simply a bug," I fudged, not wanting to divulge any information. Amelia would never forgive me if I spoke of the real reason for her early departure.

  "Bug? She was bitten by something, you say?" he asked, clearly not understanding my response.

  "Not an actual bug, a virus of some sort," I amended.

  "Virus? What on earth do you mean?" A concerned and confused expression twisted his features as his body became increasingly tense.

  What did they call it? There's a word… I closed my eyes and paged through the books in my head, searching for the right one. "Ague!" I shouted, proud that I'd remembered such a strange word. Certainly now he'd understand. A few people stared but went back to their genteel conversations shortly.

  "I had no idea it was so serious! Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Lord Rake demanded impatiently.

  "It's not, she just was… feeling poorly."

  "But you just said that—"

  Irritated at the utter miscommunication I silently counted to ten. "I'm certain she will be feeling better in a day or two. It is nothing serious." I spoke evenly, hoping that he'd understand.

  He rocked back on his heels and glared at me. He indignation was conveyed by his impatient headshake.

  "It's not my fault! I had to put it in terms you understood," I shot back.

  Glaring, he opened his mouth — to give me a scathing reply, I'm sure — but stopped as the spark returned to his eyes. He smiled. "Well, catching the ague…" He cleared his throat. "…would be an excellent reason to receive roses, don't you think, Miss Westin?"

  "Maybe you should send them to Miss Windton instead. I'm sure she'll appreciate them more," I stated bluntly. I had no patience left for either of them. They deserved each other.

  "Pardon?" Lord Heath asked. His expression conveyed confusion at my remark. I simply waited, tapping my slippered foot. Get there faster, buddy, I thought as he glanced down. His eyes met mine suddenly as if remembering, and I turned to walk away. He gripped my elbow in a polite but firm grasp. I glared at his grip on my arm, then his face. My lips twisted and I clenched my teeth, severely annoyed and angered by his behavior

  "You are mistaken, Miss Westin. You should know some things are never what they seem."

  He spoke sincerely, but I wasn't buying it. "And sometimes they are exactly what they seem," I countered, pulling my arm away.

  "In this case, they are not. I do not hold affection for, nor do I even like, Miss Windton. If I remember correctly, even for a rake of my renown, I acted honorably. What exactly have you taken offense to?" he asked openly, without sarcasm.

  "Yes, well, you…" I thought about what I had seen. I only remembered seeing Arynna's actions, her over-the-top flirting. "You smiled," I remarked unconvincingly. The argument sounded weak even to my own ears.

  "Like I'm smiling at you right now," he said with a devilish grin.

  "Yes, but, you didn't try to leave. She was all over you."

  "No, she was not 'all over me', as you put it. I was appeasing her so I could leave quickly. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that if someone like Miss Windton thinks they've gotten the attention they were after, they'll leave you alone. That was my intention, Miss Westin. My only intention. Now tell me, was Miss Amelia upset by my conversation with Miss Windton?" His eyes were dark, daring me to lie to him. Maybe there was hope after all.

  "I think you should speak with Amelia."

  "Then maybe I do have a reason to send roses." He spoke without the air of confidence I was accustomed to hearing in his voice.

  "Lord Rake, you should know that a woman never needs an occasion for roses."

  As I finished speaking, Morgan strode purposefully toward us and nodded.

  "Lord Heath." Morgan spoke, extending his arm for me to grasp. The two men sized up one another, which flattered me. Though Morgan had nothing to be jealous over, it was intriguing to see the possessive nature in his response.

  "Lord… Heath," I commented, nodding my head. His eyebrow rose slightly at my usage of his formal name rather than nickname I'd given him earlier.

  "Good evening." Morgan said as he led me away and into the hall towards the cool night air.

  ****

  Amelia was too controlled the next day when I went to visit her. Her sharp eyes seemed dulled, and her movements were too polite and precise. She was hurting, and as much as I told her that we might have jumped to conclusions concerning Arynna and Lord Heath, she refused to believe it.

  "But what if… what if we were wrong and he was just trying to appease her? It makes sense," I offered. As much as Lord Rake annoyed me with his dark angel looks and overconfident smirk, I knew Amelia sincerely cared for him, and I was quite convinced he returned her affections.

  "No." She hadn't moved from her opinion or her prim posture on the brocaded settee. "And," she added, some of the spark returning to her eyes, "if what he had implied to me at the park was true, how am I supposed to be his wife and watch him act the very same way in order to extract himself from all the 'unwanted' attentions? How is that any better? Even if he's flirting with them to get his own way, it's still flirting."

  She had a good point. And I admired her backbone, or pluck as they called it. Lord Heath had his work cut out for him if he really wanted Amelia. But that was the way it should be. After all, the notorious rake that he was, he must have been accustomed to getting his own way with whomever he pursued. Amelia wasn't falling into his ranks as a besotted, simpering debutante.

  Good for her. If he wanted her then he'd do something about it. Something far more than was in character. And I told Amelia such.

  "You could be onto something there," she mused, eyeing past me and mulling over our conversation.

  "Miss Amelia?" came her butler's voice from the doorway.

  "Yes, Groves?"

  "You have a delivery. S
hall I bring it in?" He spoke with the same emotional detachment as Wains. The impulse to shake things up a bit to see if he'd react was overwhelming, but I squelched it, barely.

  "Yes… what is it?" Amelia asked curiously.

  "A box, miss."

  "How very helpful, Groves," she remarked sarcastically.

  He smirked — well, his face twitched ever so slightly as he left to retrieve the box. He returned and set it on the side table for Amelia. I bit back a grin.

  "Roses, dozens of them," Amelia breathed, her features lit up like a Christmas tree for an instant before they clouded over like a summer thunderstorm. "From Lord Heath."

  "Er, yes, he did say something about sending them to you when we talked last night," I added belatedly.

  Her eyes flashed fire as she glared at the beautiful red hothouse roses. "So, he thinks he can buy my good graces, does he? From afar no less! Well, let's send a message back… don't you think? It's only polite." She grinned, and I was slightly afraid at the half-mad expression on her face.

  "What were you, um, thinking?" I dared ask.

  "Here." She handed me a rose. "Take all the petals off."

  "What?"

  "Take all the petals off." She drew out the words as if challenging my intelligence.

  "And do what with them?"

  "Give them back."

  When we finished, the box was filled with demolished roses and the room smelled heavenly. Each flower had been dissected, its petals removed and its stem placed back into the box amongst the petals. "Groves?" Amelia called, dusting her hands on a handkerchief.

  "Yes, miss?" He stood at attention in the doorway, a dubious expression barely discernable across his high brow.

  "Please have this box delivered to the residence of Lord Heath immediately."

  His expression remained bland except for the slight widening of his eyes. "Of course, miss. Was there a note to accompany your… delivery?"

  "No," she replied, smiling. "A note will surely not be necessary."

  As he left with the box, Amelia regained some more of her spark, and we drank tea while I told her of the heroics of the elder Dannberry brother, saving me from Lord Haymore. We hadn't spoken for long before Groves once again appeared in the doorway.

  "Miss Amelia? You have a gentleman caller; are you at home?" He came over to her with a shining silver tray with a card on top.

  "Ahh, no. I'm not at home."

  Glancing over, I saw the name. Ah. Lord Rake got the message apparently.

  Groves nodded and left.

  "I heard her voice, and I know she's home. Please ask again." A familiar voice in the hall carried through the slightly open door. The deceptively calm voice belonged to Lord Rake.

  Groves replied, "Sir, I'm afraid that I can't—"

  "If you won't go back, then I will," Lord Rake interrupted, followed by heavy footfalls and a sputtering and protesting Groves. "Amelia!" he boomed.

  Here come the fireworks…

  Lord Rake strode into the room and stopped abruptly at our wide eyes and my amused grin, tempered by Amelia's icy glare. He cleared his throat. "Amelia, a word please."

  "I have nothing to say to you." She spoke with perfectly polite tones that warred with her glacial stare.

  "Oh, I believe you do." He nodded and strode to where she sat.

  Groves had been watching the whole exchange with a mixed expression of horror and entertainment. The stoic butler was visibly appalled at the scene before him but unable to do a thing about it without offending Lord Heath.

  "Now, what is it that has you shredding roses and ignoring the very same man you dove to near madness in the park the other day? Are your emotions so fickle? Am I some sort of game to you? A prize to be won and then discarded once you've secured my intentions?" Lord Rake's voice continued to rise until he ended his tirade.

  I could see Amelia's ire rise to epic proportions. "Me?" she all but yelled. "You accuse me of playing with your tender emotions?" You? You were the one who was flirting shamelessly with that tart of a debutante Arynna! I saw you! You didn't discourage her advances at all! And what was I to think then? Hmm? The very same man who kissed me so passionately and tenderly the day before, the man who told me he had been watching me for years only too afraid he was unworthy to approach me, the same man who told me I was going to be his wife, what was I to think? Tell me that!" Her chest heaved, and tears fell down her face. "Is that how I would feel as your wife? Watching you flirt shamelessly with other women? No! I'd rather be an old spinster. I don't need you if that's what you're offering me. Take your shredded roses and leave. Now. I have nothing further to say."

  Groves stood rooted to his post by the door as if unable to move. A paralyzing sensation prevented me from moving as I watched the passionate exchange. Amelia turned away and wiped her eyes furiously with her gloved hands. Lord Heath had visibly calmed down and was reaching inside his coat for a hanky, which he gave to her.

  "Amelia, dear Amelia," he whispered, reaching over to touch her shoulder as she sniffled delicately. She shook her shoulder, trying to remove him, but he held firm, sliding his hand down her arm till he came to her elbow and gently turned her around.

  "Amelia, everything I've said to you was true. Not once have I lied or embellished my intentions or affections in your regard. I apologize that my actions hurt you. In the future, I'll be more aware. But when I do fall short, I need to know that you won't think the worst of me." His eyes were sincere. The intimacy of the moment forced me to glance away and give them at least a shred of privacy.

  "Amelia, you assumed much, all of it misguided. Please, please don't let a misunderstanding take you from my arms." At his romantic words, I couldn't help but glance up. He wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her body flush with his own. "Don't run away from me. It wouldn't work anyway, I'd just chase you." He offered a small smile, and Amelia returned a trembling one.

  "You'd chase me?" she asked uncertainly.

  "To the ends of the earth," he affirmed, never once breaking eye contact. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her. Her eyes drifted closed, and I sighed. This is better than the movies.

  Groves finally found his voice and immediately cleared his throat, reminding the couple of their audience. Lord Heath pulled back and grinned at Amelia. "So, if I keep my roguish ways to myself or simply lavish them upon you… will you marry me, Amelia?"

  The possessive way he spoke her name gave me goosebumps. My gaze darted between them. Amelia searched his eyes with a passionate intensity that gave away her answer even before her lips spoke it.

  "Perhaps, but you must have a care. I will not share you." She nodded and straightened her posture, waiting for him to affirm his loyalty.

  "There's nothing of me to share, Amelia. You already own it all." He whispered so softly I almost missed the deep, rich timbre of his sincere words. "I already spoke with your father, if that is what concerns you. And in case you were uncertain, he gave his permission."

  "Can you forgive me for my lack of faith in you? And for shredding your lovely roses?" she added with a grin.

  "Oh, I think I'll find a way for you to make it up to me." His rakish gaze took in her face and then dipped down along her body. I looked away, embarrassed. She slapped him playfully, and he laughed.

  "Well!" Groves interrupted." Now that we've settled, um, everything…" He cleared his throat again. "I'll just be bringing in some tea."

  After offering congratulations, I excused myself as well, grinning the entire way home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The ballroom was all abuzz with the news of Amelia's engagement to Lord Heath. There was no way I could keep the smile off my face whenever I gazed at them, which was often.

  "They make a handsome couple," said Morgan's voice from behind me. Barely resisting the temptation to lean into his hard body, I turned to look at his face instead.

  "They do; I couldn't be happier for them," I commented, looking again at the happy
couple.

  "I never thought I'd see the day when Heath settled down." He shook his head in amusement. "A true rogue, that one."

  "Ah, I know. I gave him a nickname immediately. Amelia and I found it quite amusing."

  "Oh? What was it?"

  "Lord Rake."

  "Good heavens. It fits."

  "I know. He took it as a compliment."

  "He would." He nodded and then squinted his eyes. "Wait, you called him 'Lord Rake' to his face?" he asked, amazed.

  "Of course."

  "I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

  "Impressed, be impressed."

  He smiled and shook his head at me.

  "Whatever are you going to do with me?" I teased, giving him a saucy smile.

  His eyes lost their merriment and took on a predatory glint. They fixed on my lips, and he licked his slowly and raised his eyebrow. "Oh, I can think of a great many things."

  "Now who should be called Lord Rake?" I whispered.

  "Should I take it as a compliment as well?

  "As long as your roguish charm is only aimed at me, then yes. You most certainly can." I lowered my eyelashes with my bold comment.

  "As you wish, Miss Westin." He bent and picked up my hand, kissing it, not the air above it. After an overly long moment, I felt my skin flush and prickle. "Care for a dance?"

  "With you? Always." I tried to keep my voice from sounding breathy, but failed. The spark in Morgan's eyes told me he was aware of the effect he had on me.

  The reel was fun, and I ended up dancing part of it as Lord Heath's partner, adding to the merriment. After our final bow — or curtsey in my case — Morgan escorted me to the balcony overlooking the Wingshire's garden and maze. The evening was young, at least by ton standards, and the moon had just risen over the horizon. Miraculously the sky was clear for the moment, giving us the perfect view.

  "This way." Morgan tugged on my gloved hand as I turned my attention from the night sky to where he pulled me gently to a small spiral staircase.

  "Do you know where you're going?" I asked, noticing how dark it had become.