Living London (14 page)

"Thank you." My words were heartfelt, and I could have kissed my old friend if it wouldn't have scandalized everyone.

"Not to worry." He nodded. "A pleasure to be of service. I haven't liked Haymore since we were at Eton together, more years ago than I dare mention. He was an idiot then, and he's only gotten worse with age." He grinned, and more of my tension left.

Morgan was waiting for me when the dance ended, and he offered a sincere apology for not being there to defend me when Haymore had "accosted" me. He also offered Dannberry a sincere thank you. "I would have been there, but I was… er, waylaid." He appeared exasperated.

"What happened? Spill lemonade on a debutante?" I teased.

"Egads, no, I'm not that clumsy, but your confidence in me is overwhelming." He sent me a sarcastic smile before continuing. "Miss Windton cornered me, and apart from physically moving her out of my way, I had no mode of escape."

"Miss Windton?" I glanced around, trying to find whom he was referring to. I still hadn't learned everyone's name, or I only would remember part of it. First names stuck easier.

He clarified, "Yes, Miss Arynna Windton."

"Her?"

"Er, yes."

"Well, well, she's been busy tonight," I remarked, not caring if I sounded like a petty, jealous female. I already wanted to strangle her, along with Lord Rake, but her flirting with Morgan —
my
Morgan — was the cherry on top.

"I take it you are not friends with Miss Windton?" he asked, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.

"No, we are not
friends,
as you put it." Nanna's rule,
if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all,
ran through my head, and I shut my mouth not a moment too soon.

"Jocelyn! How are you?" said a syrupy voice from behind me. Glancing first at Morgan, who appeared concerned, I rearranged my face into a coolly polite expression. "Arynna." I tried to keep my voice level, but judging by Morgan's reaction I failed miserably.

"Lovely to see you," she simpered as she walked over and stood too close to Morgan. "We were just talking about you, weren't we, Lord Ashby?" She gazed up with adoring eyes, and I wanted to poke them out.
Fake.

"Er, yes, we were," Morgan replied through a barely restrained chuckle.

"I was telling Miss Windton—" He removed himself with grace from her side and came around to stand next to me. "—about how we had a lovely stroll in the park today. Miss Windton didn't believe me since it had rained almost all day."

"Oh, pish and tosh, I said no such thing." She leaned forward. "I only stated that it would be disappointing to have a walk in the park with such a dashing gentleman cut short by the rain."

"Forgive me." He nodded in her direction, perfectly polite. "And I was simply affirming to her that we did not mind the rain." His eyes twinkled, and the anger slipped away and was replaced with a warm joy at the inside information we shared.

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. Shall 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
…