Perfectly Proper
Page 9
Tristan reflexively grasped his friend’s hand, stunned by both Jack’s reaction as well as his resignation.
“You? Resign?” Tristan snorted with disbelief. “What about Grey, Montrose, and the scrolls?”
“They’ll surface again—eventually, and there are other agents of the Crown to track them down.”
Tristan considered his friend. “Just what do you plan to do?”
Jack grinned, feeling lighter than he had in years. “I haven’t the foggiest. But it is past time for me to consider my own future as well as that of the Earldom.”
*****
Morgan made her way back downstairs. Her maid was tearfully packing the rest of her clothes. She really didn’t want to attend to whoever this visitor was, and she was a little vexed that Paul did not remove the door knocker as she requested. It really didn’t matter. She would make small talk for the appropriate amount of time and hope nobody else came to call. Then she would remove the knocker herself if she needed to. She did not want be ‘at home’ for callers.
Morgan reached the foyer, but nobody was there, including the staff. Frowning, she moved toward the slightly open door to the salon and paused. It would be considered a minor breach of etiquette if she was not announced, but she really just wanted to get through this visit. So she took a breath, put her best smile on, and sailed through the door.
“I’m sorry if you’ve been kept waiting, but…” Morgan came to a sudden halt and breathing became difficult. Tristan turned to face her from where he was standing by the fireplace. Morgan hated the surge of emotion, and yet was overwhelmed by relief. The last time she saw him, he was half dead and being taken by the surgeon. She stood, frozen while her desire to fling herself into his arms warred with the hurt and anger from his absence.
Tristan watched the play of emotions across Morgan’s face. He knew he hurt her. He just hoped it was not too late for her to forgive him.
Morgan recovered somewhat, and was proud her voice did not shake. “Jack… Is not here.”
“I know.” Tristan began walking toward her. “I came for you.” He planned to have her sit while he explained himself. He also had a pretty speech and a ring in his pocket. But he couldn’t stop himself.
Morgan barely got out a muffled squeak before Tristan’s mouth was devouring hers.
Neither noticed the parlor door being closed.
Epilogue
The wedding was a beautiful affair. Tristan was awarded an Earldom by the Crown for his years of dangerous service, and everyone wanted an invitation to the ‘love story of the season’. So although it was held at Tristan’s estate in Scotland, it was well attended and a lavish affair. Jack spared no expense.
Everything was just as a grand wedding was expected to be, and every protocol followed. Most of the guests departed soon after Tristan and Morgan left in Jack’s coach for the honeymoon. Shoes and pence littered the gravel in front of the house.
But some of the wedding guests would swear, as they made way to their own homes, that a couple resembling the bride and groom was seen riding across the moors. But as the two riders were both in pants, the tales were dismissed, as that would certainly not have been perfectly proper.
END
Please enjoy this excerpt from the next novel by Bailey Griffin
Jack ignored the inquiring glances and whispers as he tried to concentrate on the words of introduction coming out of Lady Macane’s mouth. This was going to prove more difficult than he thought. I should have anticipated the fervor my appearance at ton event would cause. As an Earl, a very wealthy, very eligible one, every match-making mama was aware of his status and that he was in attendance. Bowing over the hand of another simpering debutante whose name he promptly forgot, he murmured the appropriate greetings and tried not to sigh. The silly chit looks like she’s going to have the vapors! After several more introductions and an appropriate amount of time for idle conversation, he excused himself. Gads! I feel like a horse at auction. Jack resisted the urge to tug at his intricately tied cravat as he made his way toward the card games in one of the side rooms. Suddenly, he felt all of his senses sharpen and go on alert. He scanned the area to see what triggered that response as he proceeded through the crowd. Seeing nothing unusual, he was about to dismiss his reaction when the crowd shifted again. This time, there was no doubt what captured his attention. Jack focused on a girl, a young woman actually, who was turned partially away from him. Aside from being striking, there was something familiar about her, yet Jack simply couldn’t place it. Her hair glinted in the candle light like it was flecked with gold. Her movements were graceful as she fanned herself, obviously looking for someone.
Jack felt someone approach and knew it was Devon without having to turn around, “Who’s the young lady?”
“Well my friend, you have impeccable taste, but if you want people to think you are serious about this marriage bit you would do better to pick one of her cousins instead.”
“I was not asking to marry her,” Jack tried to ignore the defensive edge in his voice. “She does look familiar. I was trying to place where we might have met.”
“I doubt you would have had the opportunity, Jack. That’s Lauren Cavell. It’s unusual she’s here at all, but I understand it’s to help her aunt, the Duchess. She is actually quite pleasant to converse with, but not suited to your plans at all. She has no desire to marry, and has made that quite plain.”
Petulant was not a word usually used to describe Jack. But that’s how he would have inexplicably described himself once Devon finished speaking. He was annoyed, and not sure why. Jack heard Devon sigh as he started toward the area where the young lady stood. So intent was his gaze, none dared waylay him. Devon followed resignedly.
The ball was now officially a “crush” and Lauren was bored stiff. And hot. With a practiced flick of her wrist she hid a yawn behind her ivory and lace fan. Schooling her urge to fidget she slowly scanned the room from her vantage point on the balcony. She and Cerise found some relief earlier, but it was just as crowded as the floor below. The vibrant gowns of the ton’s ladies reminded her of a kaleidoscope as they dipped and swirled around the dance floor. Lauren felt a brief moment of dizziness as her vision tunneled. “It’s stifling in here. Let’s step outside and get some air.”
Cerise murmured her agreement and the two began winding their way down the stairs. Working her way through the crowd, Lauren did not realize she and her friend had been separated until she reached the doors. Lauren waited, but did not see Cerise anywhere. The smell of sweat, perfume, and candle wax was overpowering. I’ve got to go outside or I’m going to faint! I’ll be back in before anyone even notices. Lauren stepped through the open French doors and breathed a sigh of relief. The night was cool, but not cold. She looked over her shoulder and noted she was still well within sight of the guests in the ballroom. She might not be looking for a husband, but her behaviors were just as closely scrutinized, if not more so, than the current debs. The ton loved nothing more than gossip and scandal and Lauren had no intention of offering even the least on dit. There were other people about, so Lauren felt comfortable moving away from the doors to the railing. As she gazed out over the manicured gardens, lost in her musings, she did not realize anyone approached until she was addressed.
“Pardon me, Miss Cavell, I would like to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine.” Lauren recognized the pleasant voice of Viscount Barclay and turned expectantly toward the gentleman at his side.
“May I present Jack Westfall, the Earl of Rathbourne.”
Jack bowed low over Lauren’s hand as the introduction was made. He hesitated slightly before rising in order to smooth his expression. When she initially turned to be introduced, her startled look of recognition sent alarms skittering across his brain. There were few moments in his life that Jack found himself speechless, but this was one of them. It couldn’t be! His mind scrambled to reconcile what, or rather who, he was seeing. As in their first meeting, time seemed to slow down,
but this time Jack would remain firmly planted. His water sprite was not going to disappear this time. As he stood, his gaze locked with very startled green eyes. He could see a slight flush rising up her cheeks. She recognized him too.
About the Author
The author lives in Ohio with her husband Mike. In addition to reading and writing, she enjoys ballroom dancing, traveling, and wine.
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