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Authors: Emma Wildes

BOOK: Our Wicked Mistake
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As a married lady, she’d discovered she had a sensual nature. When Colin died, she had dismissed that part of her life, thinking it could be put aside and forever ignored. Obviously that wasn’t true, or the one night with Luke would never have happened in the first place. Now, having seen him again, spoken with him, looked once more into those mesmerizing gray eyes, she couldn’t stop thinking about that wanton, delicious night . . . about
him
.
Mrs. Pearson said blithely, “I’ve heard some wicked rumors about Altea, I admit it.”
“Do tell.” Lady Hendricks stopped in the act of taking another sweet.
“He’s as reckless in the boudoir as he is in the gaming rooms.”
“Where there’s a Daudet male, there will always be women,” Mrs. Pearce agreed sagely.
“Brazenly willing women, no doubt. I was afraid Lady Hart was going to ravish him on the ballroom floor the other evening. She’s positively shameless in her quest to snare his interest.”
“Well, I heard—”
Oh, no.
This was the last scenario Madeline wanted. Older ladies exchanging intimate gossip about Luke. She rose abruptly. “I just noticed the time. My apologies, but I forgot I have an appointment. Please excuse me.”
“Darling . . .” her mother began to say, her eyes wide and startled.
There was no question of explaining her precipitous departure. Madeline smiled at the room at large and murmured a hasty farewell, exiting the house to find her driver waiting by the carriage, idly talking to a tall young man in a nondescript coat and threadbare hat, his lean jaw showing a straggle of dark whiskers. An interesting scar bisected one eyebrow and lent him the air of a down-on-his-luck pirate. He politely tugged on the brim of the disreputable hat when she approached. “My lady.”
Her questioning look was met with a small smile. He bowed and produced a small packet from his jacket. “I was instructed to wait and hand this to you personally, Lady Brewer.”
It was oblong and heavy, and a small thrill of relief went through as she realized just what it was. Colin’s journal, no doubt. Luke had come through as promised. “Thank you,” she said with as much dignity as possible.
The man’s eyes showed a certain keen level of intel ligence at odds with his threadbare clothing. “Not at all. A pleasure to serve such a lovely lady.”
She watched him walk away, a little bemused, and then let her driver help her into her carriage. Once in side, she unwrapped the delivery as they pulled into the street, her hands not quite steady.
Luke’s note was brief.
For you, as promised.
For you. As promised.
Madeline held the journal in her hands and gazed out the window, not seeing the passing houses or hear ing the street hawkers on the corners. Touched, moved, relieved . . . she was all of those things and more.
Unfortunately, so much more.
What to do about it was the question.
Chapter Six
 
 
 
“I
can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Elizabeth gazed at her companion with exasperated consternation. “Miles won’t court someone just because I tell him I think he should do so. He might, in fact, form a distaste for Miss Meyer if I encourage him to consider a romance. He likes nothing more than to irritate me. We are always squabbling over something or another.”
“You told me you and he were inseparable as children.”
“We’ve grown up and it isn’t the same.” That was an understatement. The Miles she remembered had changed. It was hard to define how, but it was
there
.
“Yet you waltzed with him twice the other evening.” Walking next to her, Amelia St. James seemed to consider a group of playing children with their watchful nannies, but her mouth twitched.
“He’s my cousin.” Elizabeth shrugged, enjoying the warmth of the beautiful afternoon. The park was predictably crowded with both fashionably dressed gentlemen and ladies, and the horse paths were also busy. They walked side by side, parasols above their heads. “We grew up together. Quite frankly, I am not sure why he is garnering so much attention. He’s just . . . Miles.”
Her friend laughed. “To you, perhaps. To the rest of the young females of this season he is rather deliciously handsome. He also reputedly possesses a decided skill for flirtation and has that singular lazy smile. Trust me, I know the power of a wicked smile quite well.”
Considering Amelia’s recent marriage to one of London’s most celebrated rakehells, Lord Alexander St. James, youngest son of the Duke of Berkeley, she probably did know. “Hmm. Well, Miles isn’t half—no, even a third—as charming as your husband,” Elizabeth muttered. “He’s abrasive and annoyingly smug at times. Not to mention his sometimes questionable sense of humor.”
“He’s considered
quite
charming.”
“If they knew him, they might change their minds.”
“That is precisely what Susanna wants. To get a chance to know him. Miles Hawthorne isn’t titled or rich, but she has enough money for the both of them and her father indulges her.”
Oddly enough, the summary of Miles’s shortcomings as a suitor made Elizabeth bristle. “His family, even aside from the Daudets, is perfectly respectable.”
“My very point.” Amelia raised her brows slightly. “Can I tell Susanna you will give your cousin a gentle nudge in her direction? She’s a friend.”
The flicker of irritation was illogical. Elizabeth couldn’t care less what young woman Miles chose to consider in a romantic fashion. She nodded once. “For what it is worth, I will mention her name the next time I am in his company.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth glanced sideways. “Perhaps you can return the favor.”
Blond, stunning in lemon muslin this warm afternoon, her parasol held in slim fingers, Amelia was the personification of the true English beauty: pale, perfect skin, shining hair caught at her nape, azure eyes framed by long lashes. No wonder St. James had fallen for her. And Alex St. James just happened to be one of Luke’s closest friends.
“How so?” Amelia’s eyebrows rose in question. “Is there someone who has caught your interest? Does Alex know him?”
“That isn’t the kind of favor I mean. I’m worried about my brother,” Elizabeth said bluntly. Amelia was trustworthy; of that she had no doubt. “I know you’ve heard about the wager of the other evening. As I understand it, all of London is agog.”
A small child raced after a puppy in front of them, both delightfully clumsy, an observant nanny trailing behind with an indulgent expression on her face. Amelia smiled as both puppy and child collided in a heap of chubby legs and wagging tail and the little boy shrieked with laughter. She acquiesced, “Yes, I heard.”
Green grass brushed their skirts and the breeze was gentle.“Will you ask Alex if he has noticed anything wrong with Luke lately? They know each other well, and if Alex would confide in anyone, it would be him or Lord Longhaven. I cannot quite imagine asking the formidable marquess anything, but
you
,” she said pointedly, “also know
Alex
very well.”
Mirth surfaced in Amelia’s voice. “I suppose you could say that, as he is my husband.”
The word
husband
conjured obscure images of dark bedrooms and secretive touches, and Elizabeth had to acknowledge that her lack of information on just what marriage entailed became more and more the subject of her thoughts as the season progressed. “You always smile a certain way when his name is mentioned. Is it really that . . .” She trailed off, not sure how to finish.
“Magical?” Amelia supplied, her voice hushed. “I cannot speak for everyone, naturally, but for us . . . Yes.”
“I really can’t imagine it.” So far, the whirl of society had been entertaining enough, but Elizabeth wasn’t impressed with any specific gentleman. They varied from foppish and eager to smooth and sophisticated, but with none of them had there been any certain sense of elevated interest on her part. A few she liked quite well, some she thought pleasant, but her attitude in general was ambiguous.
She wanted to fall in love, which was a hopelessly romantic view of the entire process, she knew, but it had happened to Amelia, so why couldn’t it happen to
her
?
A mischievous smile curved her friend’s mouth. “You mean you can’t imagine it
yet
. There’s a distinction. When you meet the right gentleman, it could all change.”
“I want to share your confidence.” Elizabeth gave a rueful grimace. “But so far, marriage doesn’t seem all that appealing.”
“I completely shared your views until one evening, when a mysterious stranger appeared on my balcony.”
“Balcony?”
“Never mind.” Amelia waved at a friend, her expression as sunny as the sky. “My point is you should be open-minded about the possibilities ahead.”
“I’ll accept your word on it.” Disappointed, Elizabeth murmured, “In the meantime, as we wait for me to discover my gallant prince, can you please ask Alex to talk to Luke? I am not sure how to describe it. He’s restless, distant.”
There was a pause. Then Amelia nodded once. “I’ll ask. Though I can’t promise Alex will be in favor of complying with my request. Men are such strange creatures at times.”
Thinking of Miles’s infuriating refusal to interfere, Elizabeth said darkly, “I agree.”
Quiet settled between them, except for the chatter of the children and the people strolling in the park. The slanting sun added to the bucolic feel of the afternoon, even in the middle of the city.
She might be an ingenue, and she might be a debutante with little experience, but it suddenly struck Elizabeth that her friend seemed extraordinarily absorbed and had been since they set out on their stroll, their maids a suitable distance behind them. The direction of Amelia’s gaze was definitely fastened on a baby in his pram.
A light dawned. Elizabeth was uninformed, not completely ignorant, and Amelia had so precipitously married the notorious St. James. Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
Amelia blushed.
The banks of the Serpentine were crowded, and they walked parallel through the grass instead of on one of the winding paths. Elizabeth observed neutrally, “I am not a mystic, but also not without some intuition.”
“Like?”
“You’ve been quite absorbed in the children ever since we started this walk.”
“Have I?”
“Indeed, you have.” The remonstration was gentle but direct. “Can I guess the reason?”
“You always have been able to be perceptive about the emotions of others, with the exception of your own.” Her friend was composed and amused, her cheeks still a becoming pink. “Well, yes, then. Alex and I are expecting a baby.”
This was, Elizabeth realized, why Lady Amelia had called on her and suggested the walk in the park in the first place. She smiled warmly. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. We’re delighted, of course. I—”
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
The interruption of a deep voice made Elizabeth jerk her attention back to the path. A man stood there, bareheaded, his ironic smile all too familiar. He was dressed casually in buff breeches and a white shirt, his cravat looped in a simple tie, a well cut dark brown coat com pleting the informal ensemble.
Miles.
What an inconvenient coincidence.
 
At what point had he lost any semblance of dignity and begun to drift into a life of humiliating covert surveil lance?
Probably when I was about ten
, Miles decided sar donically, inclining his head politely and taking Lady Amelia’s hand. It was the first time he remembered fol lowing Elizabeth and her governess. Then it had been harmless enough; he’d hated Latin and wanted to avoid his lessons and tutor. Whatever his spritely young cousin had been doing was surely more interesting than Mar cus Aurelius.
Now it was a bit less innocent.
Silver eyes with a hint of disdain regarded him from under the rim of a parasol that exactly matched her moss green gown, and the richness of her hair was even more vivid in the sunshine. For whatever reason, both Elizabeth and her companion were blushing, and as they’d just spotted him, it must have to do with the conversation they had been absorbed in before he stepped into their path. He said, as pleasantly as pos sible, “May I say you are both extraordinarily lovely this afternoon?”
“And you are very gallant, Mr. Hawthorne.” Amelia St. James was undeniably one of society’s loveliest jewels, and her recent marriage to the Duke of Berkeley’s in famous youngest son was still referred to in scandalized whispers. Personally, Miles didn’t blame St. James in the least for her seduction and the elopement, whatever the order of occurrence. The young lady was breathtaking.
Elizabeth made a small, derisive noise over the allu sion to his possible gallantry, which he ignored.
“Mind if I join you?”

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