Living London (19 page)

He withdrew slightly, and I pressed in closer to hold off his retreat for a few more blessed moments, but to no avail. "Jocelyn, love," he gasped with breathless passion. "I must stop, or else I swear I'll ravish you right here."

“Well…rumor has it that you already have…” I leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw. The faint stubble from his beard prickled my lips and made them tingle. Morgan’s breath caught then sped up as I traced my hand down his chest. But I paused. Was I really ready for this?

My heart sped up at the thought. Part of me wanted him to pull me into the whirlwind of passion that had already kindled a fire within me. Yet I wanted my first experience in lovemaking in a bit of a more private environment. Besides, Nanna would haunt me all of my days if I were to be intimate with Morgan before the wedding.

As my heart slowed, my mind also sobered and I thought of a problem. "Morgan?" I asked warily. His eyes immediately were concerned. "What… what will happen to you? Your family's reputation. I'm not… they think I'm a—"

His fingers came up and stopped the word from coming out. The blue of his eyes turned icy cold. "Don't," he articulated. "Do not even say the word. You. Are. Not."

I shook my head, unwilling to go back into the dark depression that had consumed every bit of light that past week. "My reputation," I insisted. "It's ruined.
I'm
ruined. What will that do to you?"

His expression softened, and he bent to give me a sweet and tender kiss. "I think it's time to call in our friends. You've nothing to worry about, love.
This
is where it gets interesting."

Chapter Seventeen

After our powwow with Amelia and Lord Heath, I was walking on air. Lord Heath had explained with glee that we were to have a bit of fun. I'd been more than a little hesitant. But as Lord Heath outlined his masterful plan, hope surged through me. Even though I was ruined by ton standards, the damage was repairable
if
done correctly. Phase one would begin in a few minutes, and I was fighting a few butterflies.

"Don't worry, love, it will be fine," Morgan crooned in my ear as he led me down the stairs and out into Hyde Park. It was the fashionable hour, and the park was full of ladies walking, carriages rolling, and men on horses trotting along Rotten Row. At first everything appeared normal, but soon people began to notice us and an obvious hush covered the park. The hush quickly turned to furious whispers. Morgan beamed beside me, holding my hand and pointing out scenery, whispering for me to wear a smile and keep my chin up. I thought of the note from the Dannberry brothers —
Chin up.

With a brave grin, I dared the ton to call me a harlot now. Armed with love and hope, we continued down the way. I resisted the temptation to turn around and watch Amelia and Lord Heath begin their part of the plan a moment later. They were to locate a few key ladies known for their love of gossip and spread the word: Miss Westin was
not
ruined—rather she was engaged to Lord Ashby. He had left simply to notify his family of his intent on taking Miss Westin as wife.

They had prepared themselves for doubters, so I wasn't concerned when I heard a dowager pelt them with questions. "If that's the truth, then why would she be published in the papers like a common—"

Thankfully, Amelia interrupted the woman before she spoke the derogatory word. And after seeing Morgan's display of anger when Lord Heath had said "harlot" when trying to prepare answers for potential questions, I was thankful for her intervention. The last thing we needed was an irate Marquess giving a dowager a piece of his mind. I had no doubt that Morgan would do it, too. The thought brought a genuine smile to my face.

Soon the word spread. It reminded me of an adult version of Telephone, only with a lot of staring. I hoped the truth was circulating rather than some sort of distortion, as usually happened with the repetition of gossip. Although, as I thought about it, nothing could be worse than the original lie.

It was entertaining to see ladies blanch as we passed, no doubt remembering how they had treated me. Gentlemen shook their heads and cursed gossip columns. By the end of the walk, I was no longer receiving the cut direct but was gathering smiles and small nods of affirmation. Morgan never left my side as he led me through the park, nodding to each person and showering me with proper affection. With deft skill he would draw my attention to a squirrel or cloud to take my mind off of the stares. Again I was reminded how much I loved the man.

By the time we headed back to my house, there was one question left unanswered, a question only few people knew the answer to. If I wasn't ruined, if Morgan was indeed my fiancé, then why had the gossip papers so erroneously published the contrary? They had said they were given information from a reliable source. Thus leading to the final question. Who did it…?

When we arrived home from our walk, Amelia wrote anonymous notes to the three gossip columns, notifying them of their misunderstanding just in case the gossip traveled too slowly. I also wrote a letter demanding an apology. I didn't know if I'd see it ever, but it was cathartic to write the letter. Then, after several hugs from Amelia, a wicked grin from Lord Heath as he studied Morgan and me, and several coughs from Morgan as he tried to rush them out the door, we were finally alone.

With a mischievous grin, Morgan led me into the blue parlor, firmly shutting the door behind us. "What are you trying to do? Ruin me?" I teased. It was freeing to joke about it.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he stalked forward, his eyes raking over me, sending shivers throughout my body. "Since I already had, according to the gossip, I thought it would be prudent of me to at least do a thorough job of it," he remarked casually, but there was nothing casual about his eyes. They were blue fire.

"Oh, really? What makes you think I'm the type of woman who would go so willingly into your arms?" I backed up, fighting a grin in spite of the heated feel of the room. As much as I had hurt the past week, I was free from it now. The simple joy of knowing I was going to marry Morgan erased the pain and replaced it with pleasure, hope, and joy.

He stopped and raised his eyebrow. "You aren't," he replied seriously. "And that is simply one of the many considerable and at times very aggravating reasons I love you," he provoked as he drew closer. His last words came as a whisper against my lips. My backwards motion stopped as I hit the desk behind me.

"I see," I replied, my eyes locking with his.

"But…" he added as the teasing light in his eyes began to burn brightly.

"Yes?" I asked with a small smile.

"But soon you won't have anywhere to run except to me."

His head descended and he brushed a light kiss across my lips, making me ache for more. He drew back slightly, and an amused grin drew up the corners of his mouth. "That, my love, is the most exquisite kind of anticipation. And I'll be counting down the days, hours and minutes till you're truly mine." He pressed a kiss to my jaw, and my eyes slanted closed in pleasure as I moaned softly.

He stiffened before continuing his sweet seduction. Even if he kissed me each hour of every day, I'd never tire of his ardent affection. "I love you," he whispered just before he kissed me gently, parting my lips and teasing my lower lip with his tongue. He drew back, and the loss of his touch created a physical pain. His intent gaze was flickering with restrained passion. "And mine you will be," he swore as he cupped the back of my neck in his powerful hand and pulled me into a fierce kiss that made me forget my name.

Over and over his mouth ravaged mine until the corners of my lips were tender, but I didn't care. I never wanted him to stop kissing me, to leave. The pain of loving and loss was nothing compared to the powerful sensation of being loved fully and being pursued as Morgan had pursued me, even when I had been rendered unapproachable. He broke the seal of our lips, gasping for air as he threaded his fingers through mine.

"I have to leave," he groaned.

"No," I begged, irrational fear hitting me. What if it had all been a dream?

"Yes." His eyes met mine, and I saw self-control warring against his desire. Part of me wanted to be reckless, but I knew that threatening his control and taking that step would be not only reckless, but also harmful. Both of us would regret it later, and I wanted nothing to hinder our love. Lust's passion could have full reign later, and reign it would.

"When will you be back?" I asked, tracing his features with my fingers, memorizing the texture of his rugged skin and the bristle of his evening shadow of a beard.

His eyes closed, and when he spoke, it was a in a low timbre. "Not nearly soon enough." He kissed me again, ardently. Then, pushing me away gently, he took a deep breath. "Tomorrow, love, tomorrow," he promised.

"Morning?" I asked, remembering the same response I had given him at Drury Lane Theater.

He grinned. "Morning. Always the morning, love." He took a step toward me and caressed my cheek before kissing it lightly and striding to the door.

Chapter Eighteen

After the emotional roller coaster of the day, I wandered into the library on my way upstairs. I walked over to the fire and held out my hands to its blazing warmth when I noticed
Persuasion
still sitting out on the side table. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, looking for Nanna's note. Once I found it, I did something I hadn't done since I'd been three. I gently tore the page from the book and walked over to the shelf where it belonged. I reread the note aloud. "If you wish, you may return. Simply put on the same gown that got you here. But if you wish to stay, replace the book and don't look back, because you won't get the opportunity. You must always look forward."

With care, I lifted the book to the small space where it had been. After gently replacing it, I waited, wondering if some sort of magical effect would take place. Nothing. Disappointed, I folded the piece of paper with Nanna's note, caressing the bold flourishes with my finger. Then I continued upstairs.

Before I got ready for bed I searched my wardrobe for the dress — the one that I had almost used to go back to my own time. I'd been so close the night before. Just a breath away from making such a huge mistake.

As I searched, I was amazed at how such a short amount of time could change everything so entirely. Only last night I had lost all hope and nearly given into the fear and run. Now, only a scant twenty-four hours later, I was walking on air, full of hope and love. I was loved. Irrevocably and fully loved.

I went through my dresses again, but I couldn't find it. Sighing, I made my way to the desk in the corner of the room. I placed Nanna's note in an old Bible and lovingly caressed the cover before heading to the bed.

As I blew out the candles, I grinned to myself. Now that I was here forever, I'd be saying goodbye to all the modern inventions I'd relied on for so much of my life, but it didn't matter. It was worth it. Love was always worth it. Soon I'd be sleeping next to Morgan, and the thought brought a smile to my face. I drifted into a soft sleep, thankful that I hadn't gotten my wish, that I had stayed here.

Knock, knock, knock…

Ugh.
Was I never going to get to wake up without someone trying to pound down my door?

"Miss Westin!" Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton cried in unison.

"Oh, just come in already!" I grouched, wanting to go back to my dreams of Morgan.

They both barreled through the doorway, almost getting stuck as they tried to enter at the same time. "Jocelyn, look!" Mrs. Trimbleton's tone was joyous. "The presses must have run hot all night to get this out! Can you imagine?" She beamed, and I lost all my anger at being awoken.

"What does it say?" I asked, trying to swipe Libby's copy.

"Here!" Libby handed it to me. "Read this one! It's the best, but all of them say about the same thing."

I tumbled out of bed and hauled the paper over to the window for light. I began to read, my smile so wide it was painful.

Fig's Society Note, July 11, 1914

Imagine my humiliation when I was delivered not one, but two notes last night of the most shocking nature, both pertaining to the previously maligned Miss W. Yes, you read correctly — previously. As I have learned, gentle reader, Miss W. was indeed not, I repeat, not ruined by a Lord A., but rather was left in the care of her friends till he could return from a short trip to his country estate to notify his family of his impending marriage. A marriage to Miss W. I, for one, cannot imagine the shock of dear Lord A upon returning to London and discovering not only his beloved future fiancée's distress, but the smear upon his own name from a bit of juicy, but grossly false, gossip. My letters — one from Miss W. herself — demanded apology, and indeed one is warranted. I would imagine that most of the haute ton is thinking the very same thing, wondering desperately how they can garner once again the good graces of one of the ton's brightest stars. I don't doubt that many notes will be written after this column is read and a great army of footmen dispatched on errands that will take them to the southwest corner of Hyde Park. On behalf of myself, I offer a sincere apology to Miss W. It is a sad day indeed when a woman must defend herself against the lies of others, especially in the publishing world. Only two questions remain: why was the rumor spread, and who, gentle reader, did it?

Clutching the paper to my chest, I spun in a circle, thrilled to my core. It was better than I had hoped. The joyful faces of Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton reflected my own, and I rushed to them, wrapping them both in a big hug. Mrs. Trimbleton paused a moment before hugging back, but Libby squeezed me immediately. It was over.

****

As the news had predicted, I was inundated with an obscene amount of correspondence, invitations, and visits from people offering sincere apologies, along with some not-so-sincere apologies. However, one face I did not see was that of Arynna. I was curious as to what she thought of the whole situation, but my curiosity faded quickly. I spent the morning in Morgan's company as we went over wedding details and plans to have the banns read. The true highlight of the morning came when my voucher to Almack's was restored.