Intelligence, wit, and a polite smile are a lady’s greatest weapons.

~A Lady’s Guide to Proper Comportment

 

 

 

Accepting the scarlet rose, Olivia solemnly faced Allen. Even in the dim light, with only moonbeams and the glow from the house’s windows, she glimpsed a trace of vulnerability in his turned down mouth and hooded gaze.

She had never been able to hide her emotions from him. What did she have to lose by being completely candid now? Not a blasted thing. After tonight, she would likely never see him again. She lifted the flower to her nose. Shutting her eyes, she sniffed deeply.

He’d given her a red rose. Did he know they symbolized love? Likely not. Purely chance he had selected that color of bloom. Foolish of her to wish the gesture meant more.

“I was so young—having just seen my eighteenth birthday the month before—and when you suggested we run away to marry that night, I panicked.” She waved her hand back and forth. “Everything happened so fast between us.”

He scowled, kicking at a stone lying on the grass. “Our love was real. Don’t tell me it wasn’t.”

Olivia nodded, and another curl slid free to tease her ear. Why bother to put her hair up at all?

“Yes, I know it is ... was.” She stumbled over her words, but recovered, her voice softening. “I’ve never doubted it for a moment.”

He fingered a fragile petal. “Then why did you leave?”

“Why did you let me go?” She peered into his unfathomable eyes.

If he had only made some sort of effort, had come to her house or the ship, done anything to prevent her from leaving, her resolve would have melted as rapidly as sugar in hot tea.

The Lady’s Guide to Proper Comportment says a lady never complains or criticizes—

Do hush, Mama.

Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, Allen gazed off into space for an extended moment. The quiet hum of the guests on the terrace, the faint strains of the orchestra, and an occasional cricket’s rasping song interrupted his weighty silence.

“My devilish pride,” he finally murmured, splaying his fingers through his hair, leaving several tufts standing straight up. If his valet saw his destroyed handiwork, he would gnaw Allen’s hairbrush to a nub. “I’ve always been too prideful. Arrogant some might say. Definitely privileged, and I seldom don't get what I want.”

Allen’s honest confession startled her, and Olivia dared to harbor the tiniest bit of optimism.

Grinning sheepishly, he rolled a shoulder. “I couldn’t credit that you would leave me, that you expected me to wait a year for your return. I desired you then, and I acted the part of an intractable bratling.”

“You broke my heart.” Utterly shattered it was more apt.

He hadn’t indicated he still cared for her, only that he had been as hurt as she. A breeze wafted past, and she crossed her arms, suddenly chilled. She must return inside soon, else Aunt Muriel and Bradford would become worried, not to mention the gossip Olivia and Allen’s extended stay outdoors would ignite. “Fearing your scorn, I didn’t dare reach out to you afterward. I have my pride too.”

“I know, and I’m remorseful beyond words.”

Stepping nearer, he took her hand in his. With his other, he lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Can you forgive me? Please? Might we begin again and take our time this go round?” He playfully tugged on of the escaped curls then caressed her cheek with his forefinger. “I promise not to be demanding and to always consider your feelings and needs. I beg you, give me another chance.”

Blinking back tears of joy, Olivia swallowed the lump of emotion choking her. Even when the carriage had rattled to a stop before the mansion, she couldn’t have imagined this most welcome turn of events. She nodded as one tear spilled from the corner of her eye.

Allen caught it with his forefinger. “I never want to make you cry again, Livy. A least not from sorrow I caused. Happiness or passion, yes, but never ... never tears of unhappiness again.”

He kissed her forehead before resting his against hers.

They were probably being observed, and the tattlemongers would be flapping their tongues until next Season, but she didn’t care. In fact, Olivia wouldn’t be surprised if Aunt Muriel—silently cheering, and clapping, and congratulating herself soundly for contriving this whole wonderful evening—wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby, perhaps in those bushes just there, watching everything that transpired between Allen and her.

“I never stopped loving you.” He kissed Olivia’s nose. “Not for a single moment. When you left, the light went out of my life. I never wanted to smile again, and I cursed the sun for rising each day. I knew my selfishness and inconsideration had cost me the one thing that mattered most. You.”

“Oh, Allen.” She traced his jaw with her fingertips. “If only we had talked this through, this misunderstanding wouldn’t have kept us apart all this time. Promise me we’ll always be able to tell the other anything, and that we’ll listen before ever jumping to conclusions or acting rashly again.”

“Always.” He grasped her hand and pressed a hot kiss into her palm. The heat of his lips burned through the fabric of her glove, sending delicious frissons spiraling outward. “Tell me you love me still, Livy. That there’s a morsel of hope for us.”

“Yes.” She grinned and nodded. More curls sprang free. She didn’t care. “I do love you.”

He released a long breath, as if he had been afraid of her response. “Will you marry me? Not right away. We can wait if you wish. I won’t rush you. I know I asked you before, but I want to go about it properly this time.”

“Of course I will.” She toyed with his jacket’s lapel, giving him a coy smile. “Then you’ll ask Bradford—?”

“Ask Bradford what?”

She whipped around to see her brother standing behind them. So caught up in the magical moment with Allen, she hadn’t heard him approach. From the nonplussed expression on Allen’s face, he hadn’t either.

“Ask me what?” Bradford repeated, curiosity glinting in his eyes as he came nearer.

Allen stood taller and met his gaze straight on. “For your sister’s hand in marriage.”

Bradford’s face broke into an immense grin, and he clapped his hands.

“Thank God. I had no idea what I was going to do with her if you two didn’t reconcile.” He planted his hands on his hips. “She has been in the doldrums for months and months, a regular Friday face, I tell you, scarcely cracking a smile during her fit of the blue devils and—”

Olivia whacked his arm with her fan. “That’s enough, Brady. Say another word, and I shall not invite you to the wedding.”

Revealing his perfect white teeth, Allen returned Bradford’s silly grin. “Then we have your approval?”

“I’ll say.” Bradford chuckled heartily while pumping Allen’s hand “My approval, consent, permission, blessing—”

“Bradford,” Olivia warned. Must he carry on so? She hadn’t been so awful, had she?

His eyes widened. “By George, I’ll even pay for a special license, and we can have the deed done tomorrow.”

“Not so fast, brother dear, else I may take offense at your eagerness to be rid of me.” Olivia swung her amused gaze to Allen. “I should like a short courtship, but I would also like a wedding. Aunt Muriel will insist upon it, in any case.”

Allen raised her hand to his lips. “Whatever you wish, sweetheart. I’m eager to make you my bride, but won’t rush you. I’m just as certain my mother will want an elaborate showing too.” He winked. “I think it may be dangerous to allow the duchess and my mother to put their heads together. We might very well end up with the wedding of the decade.”

Olivia laughed. “Yes, Aunt Muriel is a force to contend with.”

“There you are, Allen, my dear.” Miss Rossington glided across the lawn.

Allen?

Only intimate acquaintances addressed one another by their first names, and unless betrothed to a gentleman, a young lady never did so in public. And she most certainly did not call him her dear.

A Lady’s Guide to Proper Comportment, page thirty-six.

Her fine brow puckered in puzzlement, Miss Rossington looked between Allen and Olivia then turned her attention to Bradford, eyeing him like a delicious pastry she would like to savor. Or gobble up, rather. She batted her eyelashes and licked her lips provocatively.

Brazen as an east end bit of muslin.

“Whatever is going on?” She lowered her voice to a sultry whisper, her wanton wiles in full play.

Wasted on Bradford. He might like dampened gowns and appreciate a beautiful face and form, but he couldn’t abide fast women, and Miss Rossington would make it round the racetrack swifter than The Derby’s prime blood.

Olivia couldn’t suppress her pleased smile as Allen wrapped a muscled arm about her waist and tucked her to his side, even if his actions were outside of acceptable.

“Miss Kingsley has just done me the greatest honor by consenting to become my wife.”

“What?” Miss Rossington, sounding is if she had gargled gravel, blanched and clutched her throat. “Your ... your wife?”

“Indeed. I told you she was the woman I almost married.” He gave Olivia’s waist a squeeze. “Well, now I’m beyond blessed to say that dream will at last come to pass.”

Miss Rossington stomped toward Allen, her countenance contorted in rage. “You damned churl, toying with my affections. Do you know how many men’s address I refused?”

Allen lifted a brow. “We both know that’s utter gamon. An alley cat has more discretion.”

The blonde sputtered and choked, daggers shooting from her eyes. She whipped her arm back as if to strike Allen. “Why you—”

Bradford swiftly stepped forward and snared her hand.

“I wouldn’t. Do you truly want those denizens witnessing you acting the part of a shrew?” He thrust his chin toward the terrace. “I assure you, a dead codfish, green and rotting, has a greater chance of finding a husband amongst the haute ton than you do if you strike the son of a peer.”

Yanking her hand from his, Miss Rossington turned on Allen. “You bloody bastard.”

The curl of his lips simultaneously expressed his scorn and amusement.

Teeth clenched and seething with rage, she glared at Bradford then Olivia. “Damn you all to the ninth circle of hell.”

Hiking her gown to mid-calf, Miss Rossington spun on her satin slippered heel. She proceeded to stomp her way back to the house, muttering additional foul oaths a woman of gentle breeding should never have let pass her lips.

Page nineteen, paragraph two.

A form separated from the shadows on one side of the French windows.

Olivia blinked in disbelief as Aunt Muriel emerged from behind the drapes. Olivia would wager the Prussian jewels she wore, her aunt had been watching the whole while.

Aunt Muriel lifted her nose and pulled her skirts aside as Miss Rossington tramped into the house. Then with a little wave at Olivia, Aunt Muriel bolted out of site. Likely to apprise the Wimpletons of what she had witnessed.

The adorable sneak.

“It seems we’ve drawn a crowd.” Chagrin heated Olivia’s cheeks as she canted her head slightly in the terrace’s direction. At least a score of guests mingled about the porch, their rapt attention focused on the trio left standing on the grass.

Dash it all. Allen hadn’t wanted additional fodder for le bon ton’s gossipmongers.

A roguish glint entered his eyes. “Let’s make it worth their while, shall we, darling?”

A lady never participates in public shows of affection.

Olivia cast a glance heavenward.

Then I guess I’m not a lady, Mama.

She didn’t resist when Allen drew her into his embrace, although she cast her brother a hesitant look.

Bradford winked. “Please do, Wimpleton. Give the chinwags something to babble about. Make it something quite spectacular, will you? Something scandalous to keep their forked tongues flapping for a good long while.”

With a smart salute, he turned his back on them and, whistling a jaunty tune, strolled along the path wending into the garden’s depths.

Bradford was proving to be every bit as indecorous as their aunt.

Olivia inclined her head and eyed Allen. “Well? What outrageousness do you have in mind?”

“A kiss, perhaps?” He ran his thumb across her lower lip.

Olivia quite liked this rakish side of him. “Oh, yes.”

Allen took another step closer, and his thighs pressed against hers, their chests colliding.

Winding her arms around his neck, she raised her mouth in invitation.

A scandalized voice carried across the expanse. “Do you see that? They’re kissing. Right there on the lawn. In full view of all.”

“Yes. It’s utterly lovely, isn’t it?” Aunt Muriel’s delighted laugh filled the night air.

Allen dipped his dark head until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “A kiss for Miss Kingsley?”

“Perfect.” Olivia smiled as his mouth claimed hers.