Philip was oddly disappointed in the girl when she blushed and bit back a pleased grin, blossoming like a morning glory in the first rays of dawn. “Thank you, sir, but truly it is not my best. To the unschooled ear it’s fine, but I assure you every native Spanish speaker cringes when I open my mouth.”
“Not possible,” Nigel replied with an authoritative shake of his head. “Not with lips as lovely as yours.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Philip stepped forward quickly, purposely jabbing his brother in the back with his elbow as he nodded politely to the woman. “Please allow me to extend my most fervent thanks for you help. Both your time and your talents are appreciated.”
Her mouth relaxed into an easy smile as she shifted her attention to him. “Think nothing of it. I’m thrilled to have my so-called talent be of use. I must say, that was terribly kind of you,” she continued, glancing back to the vendor. “He offered you blessings and sincere thanks in return.”
Her grin seemed to light her entire countenance, and he was surprised to find himself taking a step toward her. “As I seem to have found myself in a city where I don’t speak the language, I’ll take all the blessings I can get.”
Her eyes widened in mock horror. “You brave souls! I doubt I could bring myself to step foot in a place where I couldn’t understand what was going on around me. Of course, that may very well just be the busybody in me speaking.”
There was something irrepressible about her that had him smiling back at a near complete stranger as though he regularly consorted with females to whom he’d not been introduced. Or rather, who hadn’t been introduced to him. As duke, he hadn’t had to request an introduction in years.
“Libby,” her companion murmured again, her fingers visibly tightening on the girl’s arm. “Gabriel will be expecting us shortly.”
“Yes, of course,” Libby replied mildly, then turned her dark-amber eyes back to the two men. “Best of luck, my fellow countrymen. Just remember, when in doubt, smile and nod. You may agree to a whole manner of things you hadn’t intended, but at least you’ll be well liked in the process.” With a wink, she turned and started away.
“Excellent advice,” Nigel called, earning a grin over her shoulder before she disappeared through the low doorway of a nearby shop.
Neither Philip nor his brother moved for a moment, both staring through the cloudy glass to the two figures moving within. It was a singular exchange, just as Libby was a very unique woman. Clearing his throat, Philip slid his gaze to Nigel. “In the future, do please refrain from mentioning a woman’s lips before you even know her name.”
One corner of Nigel’s mouth curled up as he tilted his head. “Whatever for?” he replied, completely without concern. “Women like rakes, and rakes speak out of turn. Not to mention the fact that her lips were well worth the mention.”
They had been. A generous bottom lip that pouted without even trying, and a gracefully bowed top that echoed the slender curves of the rest of her. Philip, however, was not about to validate his brother’s response. He hadn’t realized the man was actually aspiring to be a scoundrel. “You’re not a rakehell, for God’s sake. We are gentlemen, held to a higher standard, and we should speak accordingly.”
Nigel rolled his eyes with such exaggeration, it was a wonder he didn’t hurt himself. “God’s teeth, but you’re a prude. Lighten up, Philip. Every moment in life isn’t meant to be so bloody serious.”
Prude? “There is a difference between prudishness and respect.”
There was also irony in the fact that Philip’s rebuttal sounded excessively stuffy, even to his own ears. Still, the accusation chafed like freshly cut hairs caught beneath his collar. He wasn’t a rogue, but he sure as hell wasn’t a prig, either. Sighing, he swept his hand in the direction they had been headed. “Come on, let’s be off to the waterfront. I think the air will do us both some good.”
Nigel’s teeth flashed as he tossed a mischievous grin toward Philip. “Do you know,” he said, cutting his gaze back to the shop window, “I believe I have a better idea.”
~*~
Elizabeth Abbington—Libby to anyone who knew her—grinned broadly as she tugged off her gloves and trailed her fingers over one brightly colored bolt of fabric after another. “And here I thought Spain would have little to offer in the way of entertainment.”
Amelia snorted softly and shook her head. “First of all, you thought no such thing, and secondly, I’d hardly call a minor exchange in the middle of the street entertainment. Speaking of which,” she said, raising a reproving eyebrow, “you should know by now that one shouldn’t speak to strange men on the street.”
The mild reprimand was an echo of Amelia’s former life, before her husband had pried her from her shell. Back then, every stranger was suspect.
“Strange, no. Gorgeous, yes,” Libby replied teasingly, earning the expected eye roll from her friend. “Come now, Amelia. We haven’t all been blinded by love. If you could see past that handsome husband of yours, you’d have noticed what fine specimens those gentlemen were.”
“Specimens? Oh, Libby.” Amelia half laughed, half groaned. “What on earth did they teach you at that fancy school of yours?”
Libby couldn’t help but grin. “Why, to always be discerning when it comes to a sizing up a gentleman, of course. With the occasional history and language lesson thrown in for good measure.”
“Well, just so long as they focused on the important things in life,” her friend replied drily. She had a sense of humor that always made Libby laugh.
It was hard to imagine that they hadn’t even known each other a year ago. After meeting at Libby’s sister’s wedding, they’d begun corresponding almost immediately. Since then, they’d written more and more prolifically, until Libby felt as though they had always known and loved each other. When Amelia had invited her along on her and Lord Winters’s belated honeymoon, Libby hadn’t hesitated to agree.
“Indeed. Didn’t you know that finding a handsome, well-connected, deep-pocketed husband is the greatest goal in life?” Libby asked, batting her eyelashes in her best impression of the vapid debutante many expected her to be. A thought occurred to her, and she lifted a teasing brow. “Why, if you had attended, you would have been their greatest success story.”
Amelia choked on a horrified laugh. “I shudder to think. I’m the least likely role model I can imagine.”
“Nonsense. Who wouldn’t look up to a viscountess with the aim of a champion marksman and the right hook of a prize boxer?”
Tilting her head, Amelia gave her an odd look before breaking out in a wide grin. “When you put it that way, I suppose I’m not the worst person in the world to emulate. Though it should be noted that my aim is vastly better than my right hook.” Her smile wilted a little as her eyes darkened. “Every young woman should know how to protect herself and how to open her heart to the right man. In my opinion, both can be equally scary.”
“I agree,” Libby said with a decisive nod. “Although, at this exact moment, I am much more interested in the ‘opening one’s heart’ part. As such, I see no harm in sharing a few words with a handsome stranger or two.”
She’d spent her entire debut Season behaving with all the decorum that dreadful Uncle Robert and the school he had shipped her off to had relentlessly drilled into her. She’d smiled, she’d curtsied, she’d made polite small talk. It was good to know the proper way to behave, but she was positively itching to break a few rules.
Not the important ones, of course. She had no intention of finding herself ruined—or worse—by being imprudent, but a little flirtation here and there wasn’t a sin, for heaven’s sake.
Amelia shook her head, her expression teetering between amusement and exasperation. “It’s comments like those that make me wonder how Lady Margaret ever convinced your uncle to allow you out of his sight.”
Coiling a marigold ribbon around her fingers, Libby shrugged. “You know Aunt Margaret can be surprisingly persuasive when she puts her mind
to it. And, of course, it did help that she could refer to my traveling companions as Viscount and Viscountess Winters when describing my plans to summer on the continent.”
Amelia chuckled fondly. “She always was a clever old dear. Thank heavens she’s feeling so well these days.”
Nodding, Libby released the ribbon and went on to the array of satins. Aunt Margaret had been quite unwell in the months following Mama’s death, but she truly seemed back to her old self these days. Which was a good thing since Libby had no intention of living with Uncle Robert, and she certainly didn’t wish to impose on her sister Eleanor and her growing little family.
Behind them, the door to the shop creaked open, clanking the wooden chimes above the jamb.
“Pardon the imposition, ladies.”
Libby’s breath caught in her throat as she dropped the silky smooth satin she’d been caressing and wheeled around. The younger of the two Englishmen stood just inside the door, his blue eyes settled directly on her as he lifted his lips in that devil-may-care way that all the young Corinthians seemed to favor.
Before she could answer, his companion hurried in behind him, his face tight with displeasure. A flutter of excitement slipped through her chest like a ribbon caught in the wind. She’d wondered if she would see him again, and here he was, jarringly out of place among the cheery fabrics and ribbons.
He was probably only five or so years older than the other man, but the hawkish disapproval drawing his mouth taut and his brows together highlighted the discrepancies of maturity between the two. They had to be related, given their similar features and tall, lean builds. Oddly, despite his forbidding expression, something about the older man intrigued her. It had been such a kindness forfeiting those coins to the merchant, and he hadn’t seemed to begrudge it at all. In a world where everyone seemed to pursue wealth like a religion, she admired that sort of generosity.
Forcing her attention back to the man who had spoken to her, she lifted a single brow and said, “Have you need of an interpreter again so soon, kind sirs?”
“Actually,” the young man said, meeting her gaze boldly as he stepped forward, “I was thinking exactly that. Not knowing anyone else in the city, not to mention another native English speaker, I thought it prudent to skip convention and introduce myself before the opportunity passed me by.”
Amelia came to stand by Libby’s side. Her lighthearted smile from earlier had disappeared completely and was now replaced with a suspicious frown. “And what, sir, would lead you to believe that the opportunity has not yet passed?”
“Excellent question,” he responded, nodding once. “I decided to take a chance, madam. May I proceed?”
“Nigel,” his companion hissed, warning tightly woven though the two harsh syllables.
“You see? It would seem my brother is eager to introduce me,” Nigel quipped, completely unaffected by his brother’s glare.
Amelia looked very much like a person about to refuse, so Libby quickly stepped forward. “But of course. Having an ally in a strange city is never a bad thing.” She was less interested in the brash younger brother, but allowing his introduction would lead to learning the older brother’s name.
“My thoughts exactly.” Triumph warmed Nigel’s eyes as he swept his hat from his head and bowed, causing his overly long brown hair to fall just so across his forehead. “Mr. Nigel Westbrook at your service.” Straightening, he gestured over his shoulder toward his companion. “My older, wiser, and infinitely more boring brother, Mr. Philip Westbrook.”
Though they looked quite similar, with their thick brown hair, dark-blue eyes, and perfectly straight noses, Nigel’s face was still slightly rounded with youth whereas Philip’s cheekbones and jawline were noticeably sharper. Truly, it was their expressions that set them apart from each other more than anything.
The elder Mr. Westbrook dipped his head in acknowledgment of the introduction, briefly smiling to both Libby and Amelia despite his clear displeasure at his brother. In fact, if she were to guess, she’d say at least some of the sharpness of his jaw came from the clenching of his teeth.
Libby held back a grin. She used to drive her own sister mad when they were younger and had been on the receiving end of that sort of look more than once. “A pleasure to meet you both. I am Miss Elizabeth Abbington, and this is my dear friend, Lady Winters. She is very disapproving of our appalling lack of decorum, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “You make it sound as though I am some prudish old matron, Libby. It is very nice to meet you both, but I do admit I think it best not to go introducing ourselves to every English-speaking stranger on the street. No offense,” she added, offering a perfunctory smile that in no way resembled her actual smile.
“Noted and understood,” Philip replied, the first hints of amusement curling his generous lips. “I attempted to impart exactly that concept upon my brother, but you see how successful I was. Not that I regret making your acquaintance, of course.” His gaze slipped to Libby’s as he spoke, sending a little frisson of awareness dashing down her spine.
Libby didn’t shy from his gaze. Quite the opposite—she boldly returned it. She was here for adventure, was she not? “I’m so glad to hear it. Now that I have exactly doubled the number of people I know in this country, it is my hope that we might meet again.” She purposely avoided looking toward Amelia. Chaperones—even those who were dear friends—were best no consulted when pushing the boundaries of propriety.
Nigel rubbed his hands together, the dove-gray leather of his gloves dulling the sound. “I can think of nothing that would please us more. An outing tomorrow, perhaps? With Lord Winters, too, I hope,” he added with a nod toward Amelia.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say that he is tending to business for the next few days. We are in Spain in part because he’s looking to invest in the refurbishment of the Royal Tobacco Factory.”
Philip nodded, as though suddenly placing her. “He’s the new viscount, is he not? I believe I recall reading about your marriage in The Times a few months ago.”
Amelia’s brows rose. “That’s quite the memory, sir. Yes, he is.”
“My congratulations to you both. From what I gather, the estate is better for having your husband at the helm.”
Though he had no way of knowing it, Philip’s words were exactly the right ones to lower Amelia’s defenses. All the better, as far as Libby was concerned.
“Well then,” he said, smiling politely and backing up a step. “We won’t keep you. My brother and I are staying at the Augusto de Seville for the month. If there is a time that pleases you to meet again, you’ve only to send a note.”
Libby abruptly straightened. “The Augusto de Seville? Why, that’s only two doors down from the house we’re renting.” Anticipation licked up her spine like a kindling flame. This little holiday just became much, much more interesting.
Though his smile didn’t falter, something flickered in his eyes. Apprehension? Discomfort? Before she could properly read it, impassiveness took its place. “How fortuitous,” he said, his voice perfectly correct and polite. “Then I look forward to the possibility of crossing paths. In the meantime, I wish you both good day.” He tipped his head to each of them before turning and striding from the shop, leaving a vacuum of silence in his wake.
“Well,” Nigel said, shaking his head as he stared after his brother. “I suppose that is my cue to leave you ladies to your shopping. I hope you’ll forgive my brother; I’m certain he’ll be much more agreeable when next we meet. Until then.” He dipped in an abbreviated bow and took his leave.
After a few seconds, Amelia crossed her arms and turned back to face Libby. “Well,” she said, clearly suppressing a whisper of amusement. “That was interesting. Remind me not to let you out of my sight on this trip.”
Libby laughed, still getting used to her friend in the role of proper chaperone. “I’ll do no such thing. I will, however, promise not to
do anything you wouldn’t do.”
Amelia groaned and shook her head. “Come along. I think I shall have Gabriel fashion a lead so I may keep you firmly tucked beneath my wing where you belong.”
Waggling her eyebrows mischievously, Libby slipped her hand around Amelia’s elbow and squeezed. “Mmhmm. We shall see about that.”
The Westbrook brothers added a very interesting dimension to an already exciting trip. After the strict confines of her first Season this spring in London, it felt liberating to be free to simply talk to a man and not have people fret over his wealth, status, or connections.
Oddly enough, she had actually wanted to attend the annual pilgrimage to London and join in the unending rounds of parties, dances, and entertainments. Eleanor had warned her against joining their uncle and his wife for the Season, but Libby couldn’t help but want to experience the right of passage, especially with so many of her friends from Hollingsworth attending.
It was a mistake she didn’t plan to repeat.
Yes, the gowns had been gorgeous, the venues glamorous, and food amazing, but the novelty had very quickly worn off. All the posturing, preening, and outright deception of people of the ton had quickly tarnished the whole experience.
But this trip was something else altogether. There was no reason to hold back or pretend to be something she wasn’t. She thought of Philip, and that instant spark of attraction when she’d first spoken with him. He certainly didn’t have the overt charm of his brother, but he had shown kindness and a quiet authority that intrigued her. Hopefully Amelia would relax a bit when they next encountered the Westbrooks because Libby was quite determined: they would meet again.
Chapter 2
“Admit it.”
Philip glanced at his brother, wary of his smug grin. He’d been quite lost in thought as they’d navigated their way westward. The street had widened, and they now strolled along the pavement as carriages and wagons rumbled past. “Care to elucidate?”
Sweet Summer Kisses Page 2
