Read His Forbidden Debutante Online
Authors: Anabelle Bryant
His Forbidden Debutante (31 page)
Her legs quivered when she turned to face the crowd, but her heart danced the most beautiful waltz, as enchanting as she had ever dreamed possible. And then, a burst of exuberant applause filled the room, the serenade of the violinist a sweet accompaniment to her pure elation.
Like the disobedient tail of a kite, the biting February wind whipped the lengths of Livie’s hair. The soft, mahogany ribbons escaped from the ermine-lined winter cap and floated with weightless joy as she glided on the frozen Serpentine, her divine skates perfectly fitted and gloriously warm. It was the gloaming, the mystical in-between time when the sun traded position with the moon. A frisson of enchantment charged the air and a lively bonfire burned bright on a distant hilltop to crown the evening’s festivities and welcome the night.
Learning to skate had posed a difficult challenge, but with Randolph beside her, his encouraging guidance at her elbow and his unmatched strength quick to provide rescue, she soon accomplished the balance needed to glide upon the blades as agile as Lord Braven, the old man’s skill a respected achievement on the ice. To her credit, unswerving determination compelled her to persist until she’d mastered the ability, although knowing it unlikely her bottom would hit the ice before Randolph lifted her to safety proved a remarkable boost to her courage.
He shadowed her now and, with a quick glance over her shoulder, appeared beside her, always present and protective, a luxury she cherished.
‘Would you like a cup of chocolate?’
Randolph’s deep tenor met her ear despite her cap pulled tight to guard against the chill. She slowed, coasting to a stop near the wrought-iron railing placed at the edge of the riverbank for that exact purpose. Her gloves found purchase and she smiled with her reply. ‘What a delicious suggestion.’
Randolph leaned closer. ‘I know something twice as delectable.’ Obscured by the breadth of his shoulders, he dipped down for a stolen kiss.
‘You’re fogging my spectacles.’ Her feigned indignation was laughable, her breath little puffs of steam and amusement.
‘Better still.’ His voice rumbled with pleasure. ‘Then you won’t see me do this.’
Being swaddled in layers of wool kept her comfortable despite the frigid temperature; still, nothing warmed like her husband’s affection. Another grin broke free, prompted by his teasing proposition, until, indeed, his hand stole beneath her cloak to brush against her breast.
‘Randolph.’ She strove for a strident tone, though a wave of heat swept through her. ‘Can’t you wait until we get home?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ His reply was all seductive invitation and now he grinned, his eyes aglitter with sly mischief as if she’d played right into his hands – and well, she usually did. ‘Why don’t you tell your sister we’re leaving?’
They moved beyond the railing and further from the edge of the ice to where wooden benches lined the gravel walkway. People sat in conversation, a line of boots and skates standing sentry to the activities.
‘Whimsy will know exactly why we’re making an abrupt exit. I daresay my face is crimson with embarrassment.’ She fanned her hot cheeks despite the air snapped and then she settled to remove her skates.
‘She will assume it’s the cold.’ He leaned in to whisper against her lips, his kiss a lethal tool of persuasion.
Her eyes fell closed and, for a brief moment, she melted into his embrace. ‘I’m so very glad you found me, Randolph Caulfied, Earl of Penwick.’
His eyebrows raised high at her sudden confession. ‘Indeed, you found me, Lavinia Caulfield, Lady Penwick.’ His voice dropped low. ‘Now let’s leave and return home so I can show you how very well you are loved.’
Despite their sense of urgency, it was an hour before they disentangled themselves from the jovial group at Hyde Park and climbed the stairs to their new home on High Street. As one of many wedding gifts, Randolph purchased property with vast bucolic acreage on the outskirts of London, within a morning’s travel to the endless amusement of city life and still connected to country living, the essence of their childhoods and favoured respite. The horse stable housed cattle of superior quality and stood within walking distance from their home, a grand brick estate, free of ornamental pilasters and other decorative features, adorned with bowed flowerboxes below the middle row of windows, where Livie anticipated blooms of every variety would accent their home come milder weather.
Now, she stepped onto the marble balcony off their bedroom, the frosty quintessence of the evening sinking into her bones as much as the winter temperature. All was silent save a slight wind soughing through the trees. Moonlight bathed everything in silver, the outline as far as her eye could see as prettily detailed as the charms on her cherished bracelet. She touched the bejewelled crown, her mind flitting through the rapid succession of events which encompassed her life of late.
What a beloved coincidence she bid farewell to Randolph, author of her many cherished letters, and allowed her heart the freedom to fall in love with the Earl of Penwick, the incredible man one in the same. She’d regained her strength and balance, her legs stronger than ever, and walked down the aisle to begin a new life of love and happiness.
Together, they’d survived horrible circumstances, and thankfully, Randolph’s recovery left nothing behind except a few heroic scars. In turn, the Allington jewellery shop had fallen out of favour, their diamond business abandoned by most everyone once word leaked concerning the dangerous collusion Jonathan had perpetrated against his father and Penwick, all in the name of greed.
‘Lavinia.’ Randolph’s voice reached her before he did. He folded her into his arms, encompassed from behind in warmth like a great coat, a reminder to live in the present not the past. ‘Come in before you catch a chill.’
‘How did I become so lucky?’ She nuzzled her face against the sleeve of his banyan, breathing in the rich scent of cashmere and bergamot, comfort and happiness, as he led her into their bedroom. The glass terrace doors closed and locked before she exhaled. He swept her up and deposited her on their massive bed with succinct grace.
‘Luck had nothing to do with it.’
He loosened the tie and slid the sash of her wrapper free, the brisk trace of silk across her spine sending a cascade of sensation to her toes. His banyan dropped to the floorboards next. He wore only trousers and looked absolutely wicked, all smooth muscle and potent virility, his chest marked by memories, proof his heart beat stronger than ever, and the image of her husband, his dark gaze smouldering in wait of her, evoked awe as well as passion, an extraordinary combination.
Her eyes went to the cheval glass across the room, enamoured by her husband’s reflection, broad shoulders, lean waist and firm buttocks, a prime specimen of masculine wonder, but he didn’t allow her time for prolonged study and joined her on the bed.
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Her words were nothing more than soft appreciative murmurs as he drew her down to the mattress and kissed a path from her neck to shoulder. The heat of his body caged her in as much as his muscular arms, allowing just enough space between them so she could feel every breath. ‘I love you, Randolph.’ Her whisper brushed his lips.
His lashes lowered, accepting her words as he breathed deep and then laughed, low and sexy. His mouth found hers as he answered. ‘Our fate could only have been written by Destiny’s pen.’
The comment forced her eyes to the satinwood box atop the wardrobe, the chest unlatched and lid ajar, filled to the brim with their numerous letters, but not nearly as full as her heart.
CARINA™
ISBN: 978 1 474 03594 1
His Forbidden Debutante
Copyright © 2016 Anabelle Bryant
Published in Great Britain (2016)
by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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