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Authors: Kristin Vayden

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General

Living London (10 page)

BOOK: Living London
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I watched him, reading his expression and its sincerity before I continued. "What do you want in life? What drives you and makes you push yourself to be better?"

"No beating around the bush, eh?" His eyes searched mine for a brief moment.

I blushed, wondering if I had pushed a little too far. He turned toward me and made eye contact, captivating me with the depth of his blue gaze. "I want…" He looked toward the horizon and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to see into the future. "As trite as it may sound, I want what my parents had. To be stronger because they've survived, and love deeper because they have it to lose. It's hard to articulate what I want exactly, but it is much easier to know what I do not want. I don't want to settle for anything less than the truth — in friends, business, Lord willing, a wife, and more importantly, myself. Does that make any sense?"

His eyes begged me to understand, and I did, completely. "I think it makes perfect sense." I nodded with a slight smile. "I can see how those very things would drive you as well, providing you with motivation."

"Indeed. You asked a hard question, Miss Westin. May I in turn ask you the same?"

"Of course, but I doubt I'll be as eloquent in my answer."

"Honesty trumps eloquence any day in my book."

I grinned in response, silently hoping he meant it. "I want to leave a legacy. As a woman I think of children, family, and their care, and what I didn't have as a child. Money is wonderful and has its uses, but it cannot buy joy or love." I paused, thinking of Nanna's words. "Real love, the love of friends or family or a spouse, should never be dependent on circumstances or finances. If I find unconditional love and give it in return, then I've succeeded. I'm convinced it's rarer than diamonds."

I'd spoken in the direction of the horses, breaking eye contact as my courage failed me in the end. Turning toward him, I read the approval on his face and breathed a sigh of relief. It was so wonderful to be myself and not have to worry about doing or saying the right thing.

"Bravo. Eloquent and honest." His earnest gaze made my toes feel warm.

"Hardly, but I thank you nonetheless," I replied, trying not to sound shy.

"And look, it stopped raining." He nodded towards the sky with his chin.

"Miracles do happen," I commented.

He reached over and caressed my gloved hand with his finger. "Yes. Yes, they do."

Chapter Ten

 

"You have a caller, Miss Westin." Wains's voice startled me from my daydream of yesterday's ride with Lord Ashby.

"Who is it?"

"Miss Amelia," he responded. He never showed any emotion on his face, as if life itself had bored him beyond feeling. It made me want to dance in front of him, pull funny faces and poke him to get a reaction. He reminded me of those guards with the tall black hats that wouldn't move or react if people poked them and made themselves a complete nuisance.

"Please, show her in."

About thirty seconds later, Amelia burst into the room. "I am an idiot," she confessed with great conviction. "Why, oh
why
did I say yes?" She turned her eyes heavenward, and I thought her words were more of a prayer than question. She paced a moment and then sat down across from me in the Egyptian-motif armchair.

"What happened?" My curiosity was burning.

"I accepted Lord Heath's invitation to attend the Langton's ball." She spoke through her fingers as she covered her face.

"Lord Rake? You accepted an invitation from
Lord Rake?"

Peeking through her fingers, she gave me a pitiful look. "Yes, I did."

"Why?" She had been the ice queen earlier. What had happened?

"Well…" she paused and began to chew on her lower lip. "You don't remember, but well, I've always hated myself for being so attracted to someone like him, but I can't seem to help myself. If he thought for one second that I was interested in an alliance, I'd be compromised on the spot! He'd never let me get away with my virtue intact, simply to get at my money. Or so I thought, until..."

"Until?" Why had she accepted his invitation when she was so adamantly convinced he was only after her fortune?

"We met, quite by accident, at a card party last night and actually had a civil conversation." She spoke if she still didn't quite believe it. "He was quite the gentleman and didn't once try to seduce me or attack me with his rakish charm. It completely shocked me, so much I couldn't find any reason to not accept his invitation to allow him to escort me to the ball." Her words came out slower and slower till the last ones seemed to be dragged out of her.

"He asked about you, you know," I added, remembering our waltzing conversation.

"What?" She gasped. "What did he say? What did
you
say?" She leaned forward to the front of her chair.

"I asked him why he'd asked me to dance when he was watching you the whole time we were dancing."

"He was?" she asked, unbelieving.

"He was. It was quite obvious." I nodded my head, affirming my words.

"What did he say?"

"He tried to turn on the charm and get me to simper and forget his lack of attention. I called him on it, and he said that you would have turned him down, even if it meant forgoing the rest of the dances for the evening. He actually looked hurt as he spoke the words. I don't know him very well, so it could all be an act, but based on what I said next, I think he might be authentic in his affections."

"What happened next?" Amelia whispered, frozen in her attentive position.

"I don't remember the exact words, but it was something about him being braver."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You told Lord Heath to be
braver
?"

"Yes. And he asked you to dance, if you remember."

"I don't believe it."

"What part?"

"All of it."

"It's the truth, Amelia," I offered gently.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said softly.

****

As I entered the Langton's ball, I searched furiously for Amelia. I found her grinning behind her gloved hand at something Lord Rake had said. With a smirk, I walked over to where she stood. I was her wingman tonight, her moral support, and I wasn't about to shirk my duty.

"Good evening, Miss Westin." Lord Rake spoke in his honeyed tones. I hoped Amelia was on her guard. His voice alone could melt the North Pole. With a polite nod he turned his attention back to Amelia. He wasn't playing the arrogant cad, but more of the devoted gentleman. His manners were perfectly respectable, and he didn't give off the bad boy vibe nearly as strongly. If I were a betting woman, I'd say he even dressed for the occasion, with lighter and more muted colors.

The night promised to be entertaining as I watched Amelia genuinely smile in Lord Rake's direction.
Yes, interesting indeed.

Feeling like the third wheel, I extracted myself from Amelia, who seemed to be doing well. In fact she had hardly taken her eyes off of Lord Rake long enough to say a quick hello. The smile she gave me as I walked away alleviated any guilt I would have tried to carry with me. No, I wasn't abandoning her. I was giving some space. As the evening progressed, I continued to check in with Amelia, but she was content to speak with Lord Heath. So I danced with a new gentleman each set, but never with the one person I hoped would ask me. My gaze kept straying to the entrance. I wondered if he perhaps hadn't been invited or had decided not to come to this particular party.

"Miss Westin?" said an elderly voice from behind me. Turning, I saw an overfed gentleman with clothes that looked uncomfortably tight.

"Yes?" I answered, dubious.
Oh, please do not ask me to dance
. It was clear he wasn't of the grandfather variety, more of the dirty old man variety. I took an involuntary step back.

"May I have the honor of this dance?"

No, go ask someone your own age or at least within twenty years of it.
"Of course, Lord..?" I trailed off, waiting for him to supply his name.

"Lord Haymore, at your service." He bowed, but his eyes lowered and leered over my body. Shivering with disgust, I tried to control my gag reflex.
Eww, nasty. Not happening, you dirty old man.

He led me onto the dance floor and, to my utter misery; the strains of a waltz began to play.
This is not happening.
His breath reeked of sour alcohol, and he definitely didn't have a dental plan. Desperate to keep the proper distance between our bodies, I fought as he constantly tried to pull me in closer. When I spoke he glanced up at me, but otherwise he blatantly stared at my breasts.

"I knew your grandfather, you know," he stated proudly.

"Is that so?" I asked, trying to inhale as little as possible as his breath continued to poison my limited air supply.
Meaning you're old enough to be him?
I wanted to interject, reminding him of our vast age difference. I could never be a gold digger. Good thing I was wealthy.

"Yes, I'd love to speak with you about him. Wanted our families united." His eyes dipped lower again, and he tried to drag me closer into his body. Straining against his unwanted advances, I stepped on his toe, hard.

"Oh, please forgive me. I seem to be so clumsy tonight." I spoke harshly, hoping he'd take my hint.

"Perhaps you simply need a breath of fresh air? I'll escort you outside in the gardens after our waltz. It will be sure to—" He paused as he leaned down to smell me. "—alleviate any tension, and relax you." His eyes darkened as he pressed me in closer.

I wanted to slap him. How was it possible that I was being sexually assaulted in the middle of a crowded room? My skin crawled — I couldn't disguise my horror at what was taking place. I sent a heavenward prayer for the dance to end, or for Lord Haymore to drop dead. Preferably the latter.

Once the dance was finished and he'd escorted me back to the edge of the ballroom, I excused myself as quickly as possible. No way I was giving him any opportunity to "relax" me in the garden. Saying I needed to speak with a friend, I disappeared. The thick, humid air in the room suffocated my senses, and I needed to escape. There were so many people and so many different types of cologne, perfumes, and sweaty bodies that I wanted to just get a breath of fresh air… no matter how small it had to be. Just as long as Lord Haymore didn't follow me.

After regarding the exits, I followed a hallway I assumed led to a powder room of some sort. Once free of the crush of people, I closed my eyes and paused to lean against the wall. "What I wouldn't give for a good rain shower right now." I spoke to myself, feeling the sweat trickle down my back. My skin continued to crawl from the dirty old man's touch.
Ahh, the good ol' days of running through the sprinklers in summer. And antibacterial soap. And mace. What I wouldn't give for a can of mace.

"We'll, it is England you know," came a teasing reply. My eyes flew open to see a very amused Lord Ashby leaning against the opposite wall.

"What are you doing here?" I asked a little too bluntly. My heart was still pounding — for a moment I had thought Lord Haymore had found me.

"Don't worry, I won't compromise you. No one will know I met you here. Although the thought is tempting." His eyes were full of wicked intent, but not the kind I feared. The kind I anticipated.

"Oh! It's not that, I just…" Telling him I'd thought he was Haymore would surely insult him, so I thought I'd simplify. "You startled me." Confusion dawned as I absorbed his words. "Wait, how would this be compromising? We simply met in a hallway."

The question sounded naive, but I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. Of course this was a compromising position! All my books centered on debutantes finding themselves compromised by the rake in a darkened hallway. All it took was one person to spread the word, and we'd be as good as married. But the thought wasn't frightening at all. I could easily wake up next to Lord Ashby.

"Well, yes, we're not chaperoned," he explained.

A quick observation told me just how secluded we were. "I just didn't want you to think that I'd force your hand or take advantage of the situation."

"Force my hand in what? In marriage?" I asked, cursing my stupidity as the words slipped from my mouth.

"Yes."

"But, why?" Again, my mouth needed a filter.

His eyes widened before settling on an entertained expression. "Because, well, you're known for your fortune." The wicked intent had left his eyes, washed out by the reminder. His ears were a touch pink, and he looked so playfully attractive with the shy look. Humility in a guy was overwhelming in it’s allure.

"And?" I waited for him to continue.

"You're a Westin, and therefore… How to put this delicately?" he mused to himself. "Well, exceedingly wealthy, if I may be so bold to say, and someone in my position could take advantage of our rendezvous."

So now our compromising situation was a rendezvous. I liked the sound of that better, but I saw where he was going, so thought I'd help him out. "You could take advantage of my position because I'm wealthy, and you're…well, not," I offered.

"When you put it so delicately it sounds not nearly as humbling. Thank you." He spoke sarcastically as he ran his hand through his already tousled hair, clearly exasperated with the whole conversation.

I couldn't help but smile a bit at his frustration.
Poor guy.
But I had to admit the whole conversation was more than a little diverting. In fact, it was the best I'd had all night. Here I had men more than willing to drag me into a compromising situation in order to gain access to my name and money, yet the one man I wouldn't mind finding myself in a compromising situation with had too much integrity to do anything about it. Well, things could certainly be worse, but they could also be better.

Glancing around, I made sure that we were completely alone. Lord Ashby was still berating himself for something or another, so I decided I'd brighten his mood a little… at least I hoped it would brighten his mood. I knew it certainly would make
my
night. I reached forward and placed one finger to his lips to silence him, then pulled him by his coat sleeve into the tiny alcove next to us.

BOOK: Living London
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