Alex’s gaze roved leisurely over her state of dishabille, raising an eyebrow when he’d finished.
“Well—” She fidgeted, trying to straighten the creased silk of her skirts. “I would have had things under control given a moment more.”
“Undoubtedly.”
She reached up to restore some order to her heavy curls, but after several futile minutes, threw down her hands in frustration. “Why are you here anyway? It’s been years since I’ve seen you, and I can’t remember the last time you called at Berkeley Square.”
It was an obvious attempt to change the topic, and Alex allowed it, smiling at her understatement. “I’ve never called at Berkeley Square. And I’m content to keep it that way. Your parents are my brother’s in-laws. Let Ethan deal with them.”
Lucia frowned at him. “Have you no sense of etiquette?”
Alex settled back on the bench, stretching his long legs and watching her under lowered lids. A cloud, long and wispy, passed over the moon, casting the garden into semidarkness. The remaining silver halo of moonlight reflected off the white silk of her gown, leaving her looking more like an angel than the girl he remembered. The dark, heavy smell of the roses wafted over them, and he wondered vaguely if this was some kind of dream.
“Perhaps my manners leave something to be desired. I assure you”—he added an extra measure of sarcasm to his tone—“had I realized the beauty you’d grown to be, I would have called. And frequently.” In the pale darkness, he thought he detected a blush on her vanilla complexion. “I’d heard of your charms, but I seldom agree with the ton’s definition of beauty.” His eyes swept over her. “I’m pleased to find myself in error.”
At his appraisal, her cheeks crimsoned further, and for a moment she was speechless—a rare occurrence, he surmised—then she shook her head in disbelief.
“You are a rake. I’d heard as much but never believed it. Your brother always speaks so highly of you, but the rumors are true, aren’t they? No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer. Your behavior confirms everything. All the on-dit and allusions and half-whispered stories. Well, I won’t fall into one of your rakish schemes. I have nothing but contempt for girls who ruin their name and that of their family for a scoundrel like you.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re far too innocent for my tastes. Anyway, I regard you as a sister. A sister who’s surprised me by growing up.”
He rose and took her hand. Turning her toward the drive and the waiting carriages, he said, “Let’s be friends. I promise no further unbrotherly perusals of your lovely form.” Her fingers on his sleeve tensed.
“If you promise no further eruptions of that unsisterly temper.”
She looked away and harrumphed, which he supposed was an agreement of sorts. With a low chuckle, he led her out of the garden.
Chapter Two
“I don’t want to be here,” Lucia muttered to herself. It was a lie, and she knew it even before she settled on the sensuous squabs of Selbourne’s town carriage with the Selbourne coat of arms emblazoned on the door. She was a bad liar. Why, she couldn’t even convince herself. This was exactly where she wanted to be—only not tonight, not under these circumstances.
She snuggled into Selbourne’s greatcoat and tried not to think about what might have been. The night air was chilly for early May, and on the way to the carriage, he’d wrapped her in the voluminous garment. The gesture had surprised her. It wasn’t as if he’d shown any other inclinations toward civility. In fact, she’d been so confused when he’d draped it about her shoulders, she’d started to protest, then closed her mouth abruptly as the delicious warmth from his body seeped from the coat into her skin.
Even now she could smell his scent on the material—something dark and enigmatic, like the man brooding in the shadows across from her. The curtains were drawn, enfolding them in a plush darkness penetrated only by the flickering carriage lamps. Normally she found carriage lamps comforting and was warmed by their soft glow. But Selbourne’s lamps seemed cold and weak.
She shifted, unnerved by the silence that reigned between them since leaving the Pools’. As promised, he’d given her no more of those seductive stares, no more lingering looks that caused heat to rush to her face—and other parts of her body. In fact, he seemed not to notice her at all.
“You never did answer my question,” she said finally, more out of a need to break the heavy silence than out of curiosity. “Why did you attend the Pools’? I know this is only my second Season, but I’ve never seen you at any other functions. I was under the impression they were not to your taste.”
“I just returned from Hampshire and thought I’d better make a social appearance.”
Lucia almost jumped at the sensation the sound of his voice produced in her—warm velvet in the golden dark. The deep tones caressed and enveloped her like his scent on the greatcoat she wore. She shivered and tried to focus.
“Hampshire? I thought you spent most of your time on the Continent.”
“As you say.” He pushed the curtains aside and peered at the silvered streets.
Lucia frowned. He certainly wasn’t given to conversation, but she’d expected as much. His stoicism was one reason she’d never liked him—well, except for the tendre she’d harbored for a few months after they’d first met—but even when she’d fancied herself in love with him, he’d made her nervous. Or perhaps not so much nervous as filled with anticipation, as though something—she didn’t know what—was about to happen. She had only to catch a glimpse of him and her pulse would thrum. But, she reminded herself, she was not the only one ill-at-ease in his presence. Reginald’s reaction to him in the garden was a perfect illustration of his effect on most people.
Selbourne snapped the curtains closed, and Lucia jumped. She liked him better when she could prod him to talk.
“And what brought you to Hampshire?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence.
His gaze slid to her, and appearing as though he was making a monumental effort on her behalf, he said, “Business.”
“Oh?” Lucia straightened. Business—a safe, banal topic. Tedious, but at least she was making progress. “What business?”
He raised a brow. “Business at Grayson Park, and now business in London.” He parted the curtains again, obviously impatient to arrive in Berkeley Square and be rid of her.
Lucia scowled. Why did she have to be saddled with him?
If mad King George himself had emerged from behind those trees in the garden, Lucia could not have been more surprised. It was bad enough to be caught in such an embarrassing position, but worse yet to have Selbourne witness the indignity. She hoped he didn’t plan to inform her parents.
She assessed him through the gloom. “I—I hope you won’t feel obligated to mention the—the, ah, incident with Lord Dandridge to my father.”
With a grin, Selbourne dropped the curtains and looked at her.
“I prefer to sort out my own scrapes,” she said, tossing her hair for emphasis. “And I don’t need a knight on a white horse, or black horse as the case may be, coming to my rescue.”