DD-Michaels-END.rtf (7 page)

And all he'd done was walk into the room, smile at her.

Imagine what would happen if he
ever touched her....

"Of course I did, Ethan, just as you knew I would. All our ancient scandal revealed. Why else would you have all but dragged me away from our rehearsal?"

"Yes, of course,
Ma
m
an.
Forgive me." It was true
he had counted on his gregarious mother to run her tongue on wheels, say everything that needed to be said. But did she also have to say, within Morgan's hearing, that he had wanted her to do precisely that? No head for
in
trigue, his mother, much as he loved her.

The dowager countess turned her back on Ethan and took Morgan's hands in her own, squeezed them. "He'd much rather, you see, have me tell the story, and not have you hear any nastiness about his mother from some muckraking dragon in London. At least, this way you know you've heard the right of it and can make up your own mind."

She leaned close, whispered, "He's a very sensitive soul, my dear, sweet Ethan is."

"Oh, ma'am, I think you may worry yourself too much on that head. I may have only just met him, but I already believe your son more than capable of taking care
of himself," Morgan whispered back
to
her, smiling.

"Placed in uncaring hands, my dear, anyone's heart can be broken."
D
ruscilla squeezed Morgan's hands one more time, and got to her feet. "And now, if you don't mind, Algernon is waiting, probably sharpening his ax down to a nub. Do come see me again, Morgan, as I'm sure you will, as Ethan has never before brought a young lady here. You must be very special."

"U
m
m, thank you...
D
ruscilla." Morgan dropped into another curtsy, then watched as Ethan first bowed over his mother's hand, then leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks, his mother holding him close as she whispered something in his ear.

He laughed, kissed her again and men watched her go before turning to Morgan. "My mother reminded me that I should ask if you wish to freshen up before we continue ou
r
journey."

"Really," Morgan said, tipping her head to one side as she considered this. "I doubt she was reticent to suggest such a thing to me directly, and had to beg you to ask the question. What did she actually say?"

Ethan stepped closer. Morgan was
as beautiful as
he'd remembered while he'd harried his valet into rushing through the quick change of clothes, then set the man to having his entire wardrobe moved to town by morning. Ethan had half hoped he'd had too much sun, and his reaction had been temporary...
b
ut this woman only improved on second sight
,
and
his interest only deepened.

But that didn't mean he'd tell her that his mother had suggested he should waste no time in having Morgan for his own as "you two would give me splendidly beautiful grandchildren. And
she di
d
n
't
turn
t
ail
and
r
u
n from this silly pile or your strange mama, Ethan. The girl's got bottom!"

No, he wouldn't tell her any of that. "Nothing important," he said
,
offering his arm and leading her back into the cavernous foyer. "So. Did my mother produce a deck of cards from that fantastical costume and ask you to pick one, any card at all?"

"To tell my fortune, you mean? No, she didn't."

"No, not to foretell your future, although I'm sure she wished to. I was referring to her showing you one of her card tricks. She's quite good with sleight-of-hand, but we've already seen all her best tricks a thousand times. It's why she was so glad to see a new victim, as she calls anyone who has yet to watch her perform."

Morgan withdrew her hand from his arm, pushing ahead of him through the doorway once the footman had opened the door for them. "Now you're making fun of her. Your own mother. That's despicable. I found her to be very nice..
.
extremely interesting. People shouldn't all be alike, or just what we expect. It's our differences that make us so intriguing."

Ethan relaxed, not realizing he'd been holding himself so tightly
.
She'd passed his impromptu test
,
more than passed i
t
—
s
he'd actually defended his mother to him. "Oddly enough, I believe you. Now, ask me your questions."

"I have n
o
—
o
h, all right." Morgan stood in the courtyard and gave an all-encompassing sweep of her arm. "All...
a
ll
this.
Why?"

"Fair enough question, I suppose. Because my mother told my father that she'd always wanted to be swept up by a prince and taken to his castle. He wasn't a prince, but he could build her a castle, so he did, although some might quarrel with the way it turned ou
t
—
m
e, for one, because it's wickedly drafty. I've set about correcting that, but the work is a slow process, I'm afraid. I'm drawing up plans for a second house on the estate, quite on the other side of the park. Brick, not stone, in case you might wonder. And there will be no moat. Tanner's Roost will become the dowager's residence."

"Because your mother adores her castle."

"Very much so, yes. Unfortunately, Tanner's Roost also has become one of the many reasons anyone in London will be more than happy to tell you that the late Earl of Aylesford was a lunatic who eloped with a common piece who'd worked her dark magic on him. Right before they warn you away from the couple's sure-to-be unstable progeny."

Morgan thought about all of this for a moment, then said, "And
you wanted me
to
know
all
of this. You brought me here especially to hear it, to see everything, to be introduced to
your mother, and to
have
her tell me the story. You didn't have
to
do that. You're Chance's friend. If he's accepted you, nothing anyone else could say would mean anything to me. Besides, I make up my own mind."

Ethan looked toward the pair of grooms leading Alejandro and Berengaria toward them, composing his thoughts. "Ah, yes, your brother. Chance. Would it bother you overmuch if I told you I've never met the gentleman, never had the pleasure?"

Morgan turned on him, her glorious gray eyes opened wide. "You
lied?
"

He grinned at her. God, she was gorgeous. Fiery. "Blatan
tl
y, yes."

"But...
b
ut you said Upper Brook Street. I heard you. Only a few steps off Park Lane.

"Your groom is quite gullible, and inordinately helpful. I'd slice out his tongue, were I you, if you have any secrets you don't want told."

Morgan shot a glance toward Jacob, a small smile beginning to play about her lips. She'd been fooled, tricked. Lied to. And she didn't care. "I have considered that, from time to time." Then she turned back to Ethan. "It isn't just what people may think, what they might say. You really are reprehensible, aren't you? You may even enjoy what must be your terrible reputation."

"Oh, there's no
may
about it, Morgan," Ethan said, cupping his entwined hands so that she could use them as a mounting post as he all but threw her up onto the sidesaddle.

Morgan looked down at him from atop Berengaria, who had begun to dance in place, eager to be on her way once more. "Please be certain to behave yourself when you deliver me to my brother,
Ethan,
because I believe you and
I could become very good friends over the coming weeks."

He bowed to her in agreement, then swung gracefully onto Alejandro's back. "There are many things in this world and out of it, Morgan, many questions to which I don't know the answers. But there is one thing I do know, and that is thi
s
—
y
ou and I are destined to be
very
good friends. We'd both have it no other way, and I will grea
tl
y enjoy introducing your unique self to the ton. Shall we ride, take ou
r
first steps in shocking the good citizens of Mayfair?"

Morgan, being who she was, knowing who she was, didn't bother to dissemble, and certainly did not even consider acting coy or
m
issish. Odette hadn't given her any suggestions on how to handle a dangerous man like Ethan Tanner, but Morgan had already made
up her mind. She would be straightforward, would never back down, and she'd challenge him to be the same.

"You can't wait to stand London on its ear, can you? But what makes you think I should be such a willing partner to what is most probably your ongoing assault on the ton?"

"You were about to ride into London, unescorted, straight into Mayfair. And, if I may be so bol
d
—
a
nd I'm always bol
d
—
i
f I ever saw a young woman ripe for mischief, it's you. I imagine there's little you'd shy from, Miss Becket."

"My father, as I understand it, has already sent my brother his condolences as
he attempts to steer me through the Season, if that's what you mean. But all I wanted to do was
make clear, from
the outset, that Chance might be my host
for
the Season, buthe will
not
be
my keeper. And it's Morgan. I'm Morgan, remember? And you're Ethan."

"With each other, Morgan, yes, we are, but not in public. Then we would be wise to play by some of the rules, even as we bend or break many more of them. I will address you as Miss Becket, and you can simply call me Aylesford. Agreed?"

"So your mother isn't the only one who enjoys playacting," Morgan said. "Very well. I suppose I've played my own share of games."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you may have made a point to have your mother explain at least something of you to me, but
I'm convinced she doesn't know the half of it. Oh, and that
,
much as you may have hoped I might
,
I'm not returning the favor by confessing my own possible shortcomings, either in part or in whole. After all,
Aylesford,
I barely know you and, from what you have said
,
I have to think you at least slightly scandalous in your own right."

"Only slightly?" Ethan's full-throated laugh shooed several birds from the canopy of trees above them. Moments later, me two riders turned onto the main roadway once more, already a good fifty yards ahead of Jacob and the coach.

"Jacob will be having fits if we get much farther ahead of him," Morgan said, looking back at the vehicle.

"Really? How very unfortunate for Jacob. It's a straight run from here to Birling, and with little traffic to get in our way. Shall we?"

Morgan and Berengaria were a full three lengths ahead of Ethan and Alejandro before he'd finished speaking....

CHAPTER FIVE

"
I,
a
s A gentleman, hesitate to point this out, but I believe you might be sulking, Morgan," Ethan said as they rode side by side through the streets of London. The loud, crowded, definitely not perfumed streets of London.

He'd tried, not successfully, to convince her to return to the coach for this last short leg of their journey, to sit with the maid he'd stationed in the coac
h
—
a
mazing himself with his concern for her reputatio
n
—
b
ut when Morgan had refused, he'd decided that the best education often comes from lessons learned by one's own experience.

He'd been amused by her obvious delight when they'd first approached London and she eagerly pointed out steeples and tall buildings she recognized from books in her father's study. Her eyes had shone, and she'd been as excited as any child. But she'd grown more and more silent, withdrawn, as they'd moved into the metropolis.

"I'm fully aware that I'm sulking, thank you," Morgan retorted, longing to lift a handkerchief to her nose, for the smell these last ten minutes or so had gone from annoying to faintly sickening, to perfectly vile.

She wasn't eager to separate the odor into all its contributing smells, but she could tell that they were near the Thames, near the docks. And town docks were docks, here or in the islands.

All Morgan knew was their own small, isolated island, their safe paradise that, to her, was only a vague memory of sand, and heat, and clear, blue-green water. Of laughter, of freedom. And from the time they'd left the island, she'd never traveled more than five miles from Becket Hall.

This street, this place, was so alien to her. Had she been born into squalor like this? If her papa hadn't bought her the very day she'd been born, and taken her to the island, would she still be living in a sorry, desperate place such as this? Would she even
be alive now, to wonder?