Wicked Angel (19 page)

But this was
far
worse. All Alex had to do was smile, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and her stomach would flutter madly. She was a giddy little fool—no,
imbecile
was a better description. Alex Christian was as far removed from her as a person could be, yet here she sat, practically pining for him.

While she was sitting with his fiancée, for Chrissakes!

She wearily glanced around her. The women were listening to Lady Paddington—except for Lady Marlaine, who smiled nervously when Lauren caught her staring at herself and Charlotte.

When the men finally rejoined the ladies, her tension soared. Lord Westfall came immediately to the circle of women and sat next to Charlotte, causing the poor girl to turn two shades of red. The duke sauntered over and chose a seat next to Lady Marlaine—directly across from her, of course. As if he sensed what that did to her, he flashed an indolent smile.

She retaliated against the raw impact he had on her by immediately engaging Lord Westfall in conversation, hardly noticing when Charlotte seemed to sink in her seat. For the rest of the insufferable evening, Lauren managed to avoid any conversation with the duke at all. Trying gamely to include Charlotte, she chatted with Lord Westfall about the horse races at Ascot. Although a bit of a dandy, she discovered that Lord Westfall was charmingly witty and personable. When she confessed she had been to Hyde Park only twice, she was actually rather pleased when he asked if he might drive her around the next day.

As Lord Westfall mapped out a plan for their excursion, she was conscious of the duke watching her.

Having endured his unnerving scrutiny long enough, she was vastly relieved when Lady Whitcomb stood to leave along with Lady Marlaine. Alex also came to his feet, prepared to escort them home. Lauren kept her eyes on her lap as the trio bid all a good night. When at last the departing guests made their way to the door of the drawing room, she could not help stealing a final glimpse of him. Though he was speaking with Arthur, he was looking straight at her. He smiled very faintly at her blush before following the ladies out.

Lauren sagged when he left, the tension finally leaving her.

"Come sit and talk with me, Countess," Lady Paddington called from her armchair. Oh God, no more conversation, she thought, but reluctantly did as she was bid. The moment she seated herself on the footstool, Lady Paddington eagerly leaned forward. "I think they make a handsome couple, don't you?"

Beaming, she nodded toward Lord Westfall and Charlotte, still seated on the settee.

"Indeed, madam."

"You should invite Miss Pritchit to join you for your little turn about the park tomorrow. My dear David would like that very much. Now stay a bit, will you? I rather think my nephew is enjoying Miss Pritchit's company, but she will be uncomfortable if you go," she whispered. She could hardly refuse, and the longest supper party in the history of mankind fast became eternal damnation as she sat and listened, stupefied, to Lady Paddington and Mrs. Clark turn a discussion of a new wool cloak into an argument about the proper care and feeding of sheep.

When at last Lord Westfall stood to go, she smiled and assured him she would remember their engagement on the morrow. She very carefully did not look at Lady Pritchit, but she could feel the daggers the woman was staring at her. When Lord Westfall finally made his exit, Lauren stood, determined to take her leave.

"Might I offer you a ride?" Arthur asked after she had wished Lady Paddington and her guests good evening.

"Oh no, but thank you kindly," she said, and with an airy wave, slipped into the foyer before he could press the issue. "Where might I find a hack?" she asked the butler breathlessly as she quickly slipped into her cloak.

"I shall call one for you, milady."

"No! I mean… do not trouble yourself. I shall walk to the park—surely I might engage a hack there?"

"Forgive me, ma'am, but I could not recommend it. Wallace! A conveyance for the lady!" he snapped, and pulled the front door open. Lauren hurried after the dispatched footman, who looked as if he were on an afternoon stroll as he moved down the street toward the park. She debated calling out and urging him to hurry. Never in her life had she wanted to be gone from a place so badly. She just wanted to go home so that she might forget this horrid evening. God, she was such
a fool
for letting Alex unnerve her so badly.

She turned eagerly toward the sound of a coach turning onto the street, her face falling when she saw the ducal crest. It couldn't be. It simply
couldn't
be. Dear God, was she in
hell?
She turned so that her back was to the coach, listening as it drew to a stop. The coach door flung open; she heard the fall of expensive heels on the cobblestone, and mouthed an unladylike curse when the footfall stopped just behind her.

"My, my, if it isn't the countess. I rather thought David would have escorted you home by now so that he might speak to your uncle about his intentions," he said mockingly.

One thing was certain—his extreme arrogance had not lessened since the ball. "I beg your pardon, your grace, but should you not be with your fiancée?" she snapped.

His chuckle was soft and low. "Perhaps. But I promised Arthur a nightcap at White's."

She could feel him standing very close to her; it was just a strange coincidence that her stomach seemed to climb to her throat. She took a nervous step forward. "Well then, just run along and fetch him why don't you? A driver will be along for me any moment." A long moment passed as she waited for some response, but he said nothing. What was he doing? Why did he just stand there? She waited, the curiosity killing her, the need to look almost overwhelming. When she could not endure it another moment, she abruptly peeked over her shoulder.

The insufferable man was grinning.

"Oh! By all that is holy, you are the most
unbearable
man!" she cried impulsively.

His grin deepened. "That is a rather heavy mantle, but I shall very graciously consider the source."

"I beg your pardon? Whatever do you mean by
that?
" she gasped, truly affronted.

"I mean, Countess Bergen," he said, sobering, "that since our reacquaintance at the Granbury reception, you seem quite put out with me."

Put out
with him? Really, just because he seemed to think
she
was a fortune-seeker while
he
was to be married to a very pretty woman, she was not
put out
with him. Not in the
least
. The hired hack turned onto the street.

"I had honestly hoped the gardenias would take the edge off your disdain."

That startled her. "The gardenias? But they were from—" Oh God, she had thought they were from Magnus, but she had not actually looked at the card! Her heart started to beat erratically. He had sent her
flowers!
And gardenias, her very favorite!

"Ah, I see," he said quietly. "Too many suitors."

"I… I did not know," she murmured as her thoughts tumbled wildly over one another. Why had he sent her flowers? What had the card said? What had the bloody card
said?
She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled graciously. "They… they were lovely. Thank you."

A strange emotion flickered in his eyes. "Not nearly as lovely as the recipient," he said quietly.

That unexpected and tender compliment washed over her. Unsteadily, she took a step toward the curb as the hack rolled to a halt. The footman jumped down from the rear running board, and moved toward the little door.

"Hold!" Alex suddenly barked. Startled, Lauren jerked around to face him. He began to move steadily toward her. Instinctively, she made a desperate lunge for the hack, but somehow, he reached it before her.

"Hold, driver!" he called as his arm shot up beside her, effectively barring the door and blocking her from the curious gaze of any onlooker. "Thank you, that will be all," he said to the footman. The man glanced uneasily at Lauren, but not one to argue with a duke, he quickly pivoted on his heel and disappeared through the gate.

Trapped between the hack and his powerful frame, Lauren pressed into the carriage as he slowly leaned into her, bracing his weight against the hack. His eyes flicked across her bosom, lingered on her pursed lips, then traveled slowly to her eyes. "God help me, but you intrigue me, Lauren," he murmured. His sweet breath fanned her cheek, sending a convulsive shiver down her spine. "So full of surprises, aren't you? I can't help but wonder if that giant is worthy of your affections."

His nearness was a powerful drug on her senses—her knees shook and she frantically clutched her reticule to her stomach. "Who… Magnus?" she mumbled thoughtlessly.

A lazy smile stretched his lips, contradicting the dark, pointed look in his green eyes. "Yes, him."

Unconsciously, her eyes fell to his mouth. The memory of that long ago kiss came flooding back to her in the form of a queer tingle in the pit of her stomach. Intuitively, she understood herself to be on dangerous ground. "I—I think you sh-should leave me alone," she stammered.

"I think I should too, but I am afraid I cannot." With that startling revelation, he leaned closer and gently laid his palm against her cheek. Lauren drew a sharp breath at his gentle touch, astounded by the heat that quickly spread down her neck.

He meant to kiss her.

For one insane moment, she desperately hoped he would, but when she felt his breath against her lips, fear, propriety, and the image of Lady Marlaine caused her to bring her hand up and push against his chest. "
Don't do it
," she whispered frantically.

The husky timbre of her voice sent blood pumping furiously through Alex's veins. He covered her hand with his and pressed it tightly against his racing heart. She gasped; her gaze locked on his hand. God, but he was powerless to resist her, and slowly he leaned down until his mouth brushed lightly against her full lips. Jolted by the warmth of her breath, he groaned softly and leaned into her, delicately painting her lips with his. The tension left her jaw, and he swept his tongue inside the forbidden sweetness, savoring the faint taste of wine, the smooth veneer of her teeth.

He could feel the tremble in her slender body and he deepened the kiss, wanting to fill his senses with her. Her head tilted backward as his kiss grew more insistent; her fingers slowly fanned across his rapidly

beating heart. Dangerous desire spiraled through him, unfurling rapidly in his groin.

The sound of voices shook him; Lady Pritchit's sharp voice calling good night shattered the moment.

Stunned, he jerked his head up and pivoted about, dropping Lauren's hand from his chest. The Pritchits were at the threshold of his aunt's house, preparing to leave. He stumbled backward as Lauren clumsily pushed past him and climbed into the hack unaided.

She had dropped her reticule. He was, uncharacteristically and overwhelmingly, embarrassed. He hastily picked up the little beaded bag and handed it to her. Lauren refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead, clearly mortified. He shot a look at the driver and commanded hoarsely, "Russell Square."

A rush of shameful anxiety escaped his lungs as the carriage turned toward the park. The guilt and shock at what he had just done warred with the heat of her, the
taste
of her that still coursed through his veins.

He ran a hand through his hair, realized he was trembling slightly, and shoved both hands in his pockets.

That was, he thought madly, a
very
close call—in more ways than one.

He turned and walked shakily out of the shadows and toward the house, calling a greeting to his aunt.

Lauren's sleep was unsettled after that reckless kiss. In the morning she awoke with feelings that were new to her, and conflicting thoughts of Alex. The only thing that saved her from going completely mad was the arrival of two letters from Rosewood. Davis thrust them at her the moment she finished breakfast; with a delighted cry, Lauren closeted herself in the small dining room to read them.

Mrs. Peterman, in her weekly letter, proudly reported a bumper crop of tomatoes, which Fastidious Thadeus was doing his best to trade at his apothecary shop. The second letter filled her with joy. In her sprawling girlish handwriting, Lydia used many exclamation points to relay the news that Ramsey Baines had smiled at her after church services. After a long, rambling discussion of that monumental event, she wrote that Leonard and Rupert were repairing another fence, and that Theodore requested a book of poetry if there were funds for such an extravagance. Horace had fashioned a pirate's hat from one of Lauren's old bonnets and could not be persuaded to remove it, even when Mrs. Peterman had threatened to cut his head off at the neck. Sally, bless her heart, missed Paul so badly that she made him the guest of honor at all her imaginary tea parties, which she hosted at least twice daily.

A haze of unshed tears filled her eyes. She missed the children desperately, but Ethan's promise of a trip to Rosewood had been put off for another fortnight. He had railed at her when she protested, claiming that it was her own fault, and when she decided on one of the two good offers he had for her hand, she could return to Rosewood.

If that was to be the prerequisite, she might never see Rosewood again. She was suddenly reminded of Magnus repeating his offer just two nights past, and his avowal that he was prepared to wait for her answer as long as it took. It was touching in a way; his rugged face looked almost hopeful, as if he somehow believed that she could come to love him. In another place and time, she might have considered his offer.
Might
have. But at that moment and more so now, the only thing she could think of was Alex, and her heart unexpectedly twisted in her chest.

With a heavy sigh, she glanced at the clock. There was still enough time to respond to Lydia's letter before Lord Westfall called. Better she occupy her thoughts with something before despair swallowed her whole.

Alex galloped to a lake in the middle of Hyde Park and reined the mare to a sharp halt. Pushing his hat back from his forehead, he frowned at the water as the horse drank her fill. Marlaine's demeanor this morning still perplexed him. He had offered to take her to the park as she had requested last evening, but she had looked at him strangely and had asked in that soft way of hers if he did not have a previous engagement. After explaining his appointment had been canceled, Marlaine considered him curiously for a long moment, then politely declined, citing a headache.