“What are you saying?” Alex asked, turning in the doorway.
“I’m saying this may not be as easy as you think.”
Alex frowned. “What is your advice?”
“Practice getting on your knees and apologizing.” Ethan laughed, and Alex imagined his brother was enjoying the mental image immensely.
“Be serious.”
“I am. From all accounts, your behavior was atrocious.”
“Well, she was no angel.” Alex crossed his arms. “She actually threw a bowl at me.”
“Unprovoked, I’m sure,” Ethan muttered, then shrugged his shoulders and rose to leave. “Very well, if you do not want her back.”
Alex allowed him to take three steps before he gave in. “All right. What do I have to do?”
Ethan smiled. “Sweep her off her feet.”
Alex stared. “Sweep—” He shook his head. “Sweep her off her feet? You’ll have me looking like a complete—” Alex froze, and every nerve in his body tingled. That was it!
“What are you thinking?” Ethan asked. “I don’t like your look.”
“I have it.” Alex snapped his fingers. “I know what she wants.”
Ethan raised a brow. “I find that rather difficult to believe.”
“Well, it’s true. I’m going to marry her, Ethan.”
And he would. He’d never lost anything he wanted this badly. And Alex wanted her. Badly.
Lucia spotted Reginald and his wife as soon as she placed one silver slipper on the prince’s ornate marble staircase at Carlton House. The crowd was enormous, everyone jammed together tightly and screaming to be heard over the din of so many voices. But Lucia saw Reginald right away. He was watching her coldly.
His wife stood at his side, a plump brunette, dark and petite. They had arrived in Town, married only two months. She was an heiress from a good family that Reginald had met in Brighton. He’d quickly wooed and wed her, and now everyone was talking about the match.
Lucia stared at the girl, knowing the ton’s comparisons would not be in Lucia’s favor. She had called off the wedding and remained unmarried, while Reginald had snatched up an heiress. And the heiress was a ripe seventeen, while Lucia was past her prime at twenty-one.
Her mother came up behind her. “Do make an attempt to be civil, mia bella,” she said without moving her lips. “For your father’s sake.”
Lucia glanced at her mother and saw her father just behind. He frowned. “Dandridge is still a power in Parliament. It won’t do to offend him more than we have. Make an overture of friendship—a slight one. It will be enough.”
Lucia sighed. It was going to be a night in hell.
At the bottom of the steps, she smiled, nodded to her parents, and made her way toward Reginald and his bride. There was no point in putting off the inevitable meeting. As she neared the couple, she noticed the people around them quieted. Her words would be repeated in more than one drawing room the next day.
Upon reaching Reginald, Lucia curtsied, murmuring, “My lord.”
He did not bow in return. “Annabelle, pray allow me to lead you into dinner. I know you must be hungry.” He turned away, leading his bride with him. To her credit, the girl looked extremely apologetic, but it didn’t lessen the sting of the cut.
Lucia stood stiffly, watching Reginald and his wife disappear into the crowd. Around her, she heard the whispers swell. She had to force her legs to move. Somehow she made it to the open French doors and pretended to study the nearby foliage. After a few moments the ton forgot her, and she escaped through the French doors and into the brisk April night.
She dashed the unshed tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, away from the crush of people, she could breathe again. She hated London. The gossip and lies. It was a wonder that she had ever tolerated Society. She felt like a caged bird surrounded by people waiting to jab their fingers at her.
Nothing here would ever change, and until she married, she’d never escape it. She’d have to smile and nod, dance and forget. Forget, once more, how to feel. How to love.
She pushed the thought away.
The prince had ordered torches lit, and the manicured lawns of Carlton House were bright and colorful. From the terrace, Lucia watched with envy as the couples strolled together on the lawns below.
Most were drifting inside as the dancing was about to begin. What she wouldn’t give to stroll in the garden, hand in hand, like the young lovers before her, to think of nothing but a happy future together or when another kiss could be stolen.
But she couldn’t stay outside all night musing on a future that would never be. It was cold and she had no wrap, since her mother subscribed to the latest fashion that wraps, even on the coldest days, were unstylish.
She peered inside the ballroom and saw Francesca and Ethan entering the lavish room where the prince was holding court. She smiled at the surprise as she’d expected them to still be in residence at Winterbourne Hall. Her spirits rose, and she turned, bumping into a man dressed in black.
She looked up and gasped.
It was Alex.
Lucia almost fell back from the shock. “Y-you—” She stumbled over her words and then her feet. Alex reached out and steadied her, but the frisson of his touch made her jump. He released her immediately.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Watching you,” he said.
His voice caressed her, sending shivers down her spine. Lucia stared at him hungrily. His hair was still long, and he’d tied it back with a black ribbon. The eyes were the same, gray and molten, and sinfully seductive. He was all in black, save his shirt and cravat, and he was so much bigger than she remembered. So imposing. He overpowered her senses, affecting her as if they’d never been separated. All the hours of convincing herself she was no longer in love with him were for naught. Lord, her feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. She stared at him, watching his lips move, remembering the feel of them on her mouth, the hollow of her neck, the valley between her breasts. Suddenly, despite the biting night air, she was too warm.
“I behaved badly in Calais,” he continued. “I wanted to apologize and—”
Her eyes narrowed when he mentioned Calais. Calais, where she’d declared her love. Calais, where he’d turned his back on her, left her. Lucia’s head cleared.
“Apologize?” she repeated.
“Yes.” His voice was wary now, and he glanced around cautiously.
She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“No,” he said slowly.
“You’ve been in England since January.” Her voice was cold, formal. “It is now April. How long has it taken you to formulate this apology?”
But instead of looking ashamed, she saw anger flash across his face. Before she could react, he grasped her arms.
“I thought you were married, Lucia. I came as soon as Ethan told me you’d called off the engagement.”
Lucia was trembling. His hands were gentle and familiar. His touch flooded her with memories. Then, as if straight from one of her dreams, he said, “I love you.”
She frowned. Why had his voice sounded so choked…so reluctant?
“What?” she said.
“I said—” He waved an impatient hand and scowled. “You heard me, Lucia.”
Lucia wanted to hit herself. How could she be so stupid? This was no dream, but the same old Alex. She shook his arm off and pushed him away.
“Yes, I heard you,” she hissed. “Barely. But I must confess that I am truly astonished. It was my understanding that only fools fell in love.”
He glared at her, and she blinked innocently. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Lucia, I am trying to tell you—”
“And I told you”—she poked a finger at him—“go to hell!” She turned on her heel and walked inside the ballroom.
The first people she saw were Lord Dewhurst and Sir Sebastian. They were
watching the dancers and entertaining two young ladies. Lucia arrowed straight for them. Freddie saw her coming, nodded slightly, then dropped his jaw as he realized her intention.
“Lord Dewhurst!” she called sweetly, sounding exactly like her mother. “I believe it is time for our dance.”
“Dance, Miss Dashing?” he said, raising his eyebrows in confusion.
“My lord! You have not forgotten the dance you promised me, have you?” Her smile was plastered to her face, but her eyes were imploring him.
“Miss Dashing, I would be pleased to dance with you,” Middleton offered suavely. But Freddie was looking at something behind her and stepped forward.
“That won’t be necessary, old boy. I’ve promised to dance with Miss Dashing, and dance I shall.”
As she took Freddie’s arm, Lucia saw almost the entire room watching them. She winced, seeing her mother’s shocked face among the onlookers. She could hear the gossip now: Lucia Dashing attacked Lord Freddie Dewhurst, a notorious rake, and dragged him to the ballroom to dance. Her reputation was going to be torn to shreds.
“Lucia.” Alex’s voice carried across the room. Lucia and Freddie froze. Everyone around them turned to look at Alex. Everyone except Lucia and Freddie.
Lucia clutched Freddie’s arm. “Keep walking.”
“Ah—” Freddie stammered and didn’t move.
“Lucia!” Alex yelled, and the room stilled, even the music of the orchestra died away. People began whispering.
“It’s the Earl of Selbourne.”
“He’s calling to Lucia Dashing.”
“Mamma mia!”
Lucia rolled her eyes. She dug her nails into Freddie’s arm but did not turn around. People were moving away from her, making a path for Alex, so she knew when he was behind her.
“Get your hands off my fiancée, Dewhurst,” Alex growled. There was a collective gasp as everyone digested this latest on-dit. All eyes swiveled to Freddie. He looked at Lucia. She released him, and he stepped gladly away.
Furious, she rounded on Alex, hands on hips. “You arrogant cad! I am not your fiancée.”
There was murmuring and whispering as the guests repeated her words then leaned closer for more. Lucia saw the dangerous glint in Alex’s eyes, but she didn’t care. “How dare you—”
He turned to the crowd. “I have an announcement to make,” he said loudly, his voice carrying to the farthest reaches of the room. Lucia stared at him, unbelieving. What was the man doing? He paused, made a wide circle around her, waiting until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. “I am in love with Lucia Dashing,” he said. “And I’m going to marry her.”
Lucia’s jaw dropped, and a wave of dizziness hit her. From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother stumble and her father grab hold of her. Lucia saw Ethan shaking his head and Francesca gaping.
“I know what you all are thinking,” he continued, meeting their eyes. “The Earl of Selbourne doesn’t fall in love. Many of you knew my father and have heard me pity the poor fool in love.” He looked at Freddie and Middleton. Then he turned to her, and what she saw in his eyes dispelled the dizziness.
“But love changes all of the rules we make for ourselves,” he said more quietly, and took her hand. He brought it to his lips, then got on one knee in front of her. “I cannot live without you, Lucia,” he said, gaze never leaving her. “I want you and only you—from now until forever.”
Everything and everyone in the room disappeared. There was nothing—no one—but Alex.
“You haunt me every moment—awake, asleep, it doesn’t matter.” His eyes burned into hers. “I can’t think of anyone but you, and I don’t want to.”
Lucia’s heart stopped beating. He meant it. He loved her, wanted her. Only her. She could see the truth of it in his eyes.
“I know I treated you badly.” He squeezed her hand. “I was afraid of appearing the fool. But now I see that the real foolishness was in ever letting you go.”
Lucia was lost in his eyes. There was only Alex, and he loved her.
“Marry me?” he asked. His face blurred as tears swam in her eyes, but she managed to nod her head. Then, a moment later, she was in his arms, laughing, crying, she didn’t know which. Alex was kissing her, and nothing else mattered. Later she’d read in the paper about the applause of the crowd and her mother’s scream as she fainted. But she remembered none of it. At that moment, everything but Alex was a blur.
Alex swept her up and carried her through the crowd, up the stairs, and outside. Hodges had his carriage waiting, and Alex wanted her inside it before she could change her mind.
God, she was beautiful—the most beautiful woman in London, in the world. She’d taken his breath away in her gown of silvery satin and her amethyst jewels. And now she was in his arms, and he stared at her.
The dress was cut low enough to show the graceful slope of her shoulder and the tops of her rounded breasts, and her glorious hair was piled high on her head, a few curls tumbling down her back. But her eyes—they were so blue and so full of love, he had to remind himself to breathe.
How could he ever have doubted his love for her? His every pore craved her. He wanted her in his arms. Now. Forever.
Inside the carriage, Alex pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. His hands were in her hair, on her face, and she was looking at him as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Didn’t believe this was happening. He frowned.
“Lucia.” He pulled away from her. “When you nodded, you were agreeing to be my wife, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, laughing.
Immediately his fear subsided.
“Are you trying to find a way out already?”
He gripped her arms. “No. And if you don’t believe me, then tell me where to go next.”
“Your town house?” she suggested, her voice seductive. Desire ripped through him.
“Don’t tempt me,” he managed to get out. “I mean, which ball or dinner party. If I have to, I’ll swear my love at every event this evening.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh God! No, Alex. After that scene at Carlton House, we can’t get out of London fast enough.” She clutched his shoulders. “Oh, Alex! What will my parents think?”
“We’ll write them from Gretna Green.”
“Gretna Green? We’re eloping?”
“I’m not going to let you get away from me again. And I don’t even want to wait for a special license.” He kissed her again, tasting her lips, drinking her in like a man deprived of sustenance.
“Whatever possessed you to make a fool of yourself like that?” she asked when he pulled away to breathe. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Didn’t I?” he said and kissed her again. Even if he hadn’t needed to prove it to her, he’d needed to prove it to himself. The shadow of his father had loomed over him for so long that he had allowed it to control him, exactly the situation he had always feared. But now it felt so good, so liberating to be rid of all that resentment and fear. And now Lucia was in his arms, smiling at him, pressing against him. Nothing else mattered.
“We’ll never live this down,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Do you care?” He ran his hands along her arms, wrapped his fingers in her long golden hair.
“No.” Her voice was a breath.
“The ton can forgive anything as long as one has money and a title. I have both.”
He pulled her closer, nudging her to a sitting position, intending to kiss her from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes. When his mouth reached the peaks of her breasts, she moaned. “Oh, Alex, what took you so long?”
“I’m an idiot,” he murmured, hands pulling her gown off her shoulders. “Bloody hell.” He’d forgotten. Lucia gave him a puzzled look.
“I vowed I’d wait to make love to you until you were my wife. I want to do things right this time.”
She raised an eyebrow, looking like a mischievous cat. “
It’s a long way to Gretna Green.” The wench kissed his neck, and he felt her nip his skin.
“I can wait.” He clenched his teeth when she wiggled against him invitingly. “I made a vow, Lucia.”
“But I didn’t.” She reached up and untied his cravat.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Alex said huskily as she loosened his shirt, running her fingers, her tiny claws, over him.
“It’s a fitting revenge.”
He could have sworn she was purring.
Epilogue
A year later ladies were still sighing over Lord Selbourne’s romantic declaration. In fact, for a few weeks, public romantic overtures were quite the fashion. Doing a Selbourne, the dandies termed it.
Gentlemen, of course, still found Selbourne’s behavior incomprehensible and a little disturbing. As Freddie Dewhurst put it, “If it could happen to Selbourne, no bachelor is safe.”
A terrifying thought.
In their bedroom at Grayson Park, Alex and Lucia were far from terrified. Lucia snuggled in Alex’s arms, listening to his slow, sated breathing. Then she frowned, thinking about Marie. The poor girl didn’t seem adept at any of the tasks a lady’s maid was expected to attend to. She certainly gave her duties her best efforts, but nothing the girl did turned out quite right.
“My hair looked a little better today, don’t you think?” Lucia said, turning in Alex’s arms.
“It was still lopsided,” he murmured against her shoulder, tickling the bare skin with his breath.
“Well, since it is only noon and you have already made a mess of it, I suppose Marie will have another opportunity to practice.”
“Three tries yesterday did nothing to improve her talents.”
Lucia couldn’t argue. But that reminded her of another issue she wanted to discuss. “Alex, now that my parents have forgiven us and are coming for a visit, you are going to have to behave appropriately,” she told him. “You can’t do what you did today or yesterday while they are visiting.”
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