Page 17 of Nobody's Angel
He didn’t mind spillage on other women.
Not on Lettie. Unless she was alone with him. Because he’d have to kill any man who caught a glimpse of those soft, pink mounds.
That she actually believed the gown was daring… perhaps it was so for rustic society, but quite tame for the faster London crowd… was a tribute to her innocence. He’d always loved that about her, for there was never any artifice or guile in her. When she spoke, she spoke from her heart. Although right now she was looking at him as though she had murder in her heart.
Hell, he wasn’t going to scandalize her by telling her what he really thought. The best thing about that gown was that it would be easy to strip off her. And that’s all he really cared about, not the gown, but what lay hidden beneath it. “Reallynice gown, Lettie.”
She cast him a deflated look. “Seriously? Is that the best you can do?”
“No, I can do much better. But you’re too innocent to hear what I’m really thinking.”
Her eyes lit up. “Is it rakish and shocking?”
He laughed softly. “Absolutely.”
Her eyes were still bright and gleaming. “Then you like the gown?”
“I like thegirl. Always have.” He cupped a finger under her chin and drew her gaze to his. “You will have male eyeballs rolling all over Lord de Wolfe’s elegant marble floor tonight.”
“Yours too?”
“Already rolling, Lettie,” he said softly.
She nodded and moved away from him as Frances made her way downstairs to join them. Frances was warmly cloaked in her winter fur, and she insisted that Lettie borrow another from her because it was bitterly cold outside and Lettie hadn’t anything warm enough to wear over that thin gown that barely covered her luscious curves.
They climbed into the carriage, Frances and Lettie settling across from him. Frances wore her fur with baronial elegance while Lettie, who was smaller than France, seemed swallowedup in hers so that only her head peeked out. Once again, she reminded him of the runt of a litter, the little, vulnerable one who immediately grabbed your heart and would never let it go.
He shook out of the thought and concentrated on the countryside, the white ground glistening under moonlight, and hills and trees that blended into darkness. They rode in silence until the de Wolfe home came into view, a stately, old castle that had retained all of its medieval charm. By the amber glow emanating from the many windows, Brynne knew that the castle had been improved with comforts necessary to render the place livable.
He was immediately impressed as they entered. The entry hall was large and its stone walls were decorated with old tapestries and displays of battle armor, and yet there was something about this place that felt warm and inviting. Perhaps it was the sincere cheer with which the three of them were greeted by their host and hostess, Lord Maximillian de Wolfe and his wife, Lady Nicole, a pretty brunette with dark hazel eyes that had the same soft, accepting warmth as Lettie’s.
They appeared to be only a few years older than he and Lettie, and it was clear to even the most casual observer that theirs was a love match.
“At Christmas, this place will be a crush,” Lord de Wolfe, who currently held the title of Viscount Wrexham, explained. “We’re a much smaller party tonight, only fifty or so in attendance. But we are short one very important person tonight. Lady Frances, my father extends his sincere apologies, but his gout flared up again this afternoon and he is in terrible discomfort. He’s resting upstairs and won’t be joining us this evening.”
Frances allowed the viscount himself to assist her out of her fur. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear the earl is suffering. Do convey my wishes to him for a speedy recovery.”
“I will, of course.” The viscount then continued to boast about the castle and its enormous dining hall that could accommodate one hundred and fifty guests with ease. It wasn’t the sort of boast that was meant to belittle others he considered beneath his station. Quite the opposite, his words were delivered with pride and wonder that his family should be so fortunate to hold this exquisite property. “Do stop me at any time, for I will go on forever about this place unless you do.”
The viscountess laughed merrily. “And then our meal will grow cold and Cook will come after us with her meat cleaver for allowing all her hard work to go to waste. So you must stop right now, Wrexham, or our friends will never forgive us.”
Yes, she had the same unaffected sweetness that Lettie had. The two would become close confidantes, which gave Brynne much relief. Lettie would need a good friend, especially in the days and weeks immediately after he left.
The viscountess seemed to take to Lettie at once, chatting with her as though they’d known each other for years. She gave a little squeal when Lettie removed her fur and gave it over to the butler. “Lady Letitia, you are going to break several hearts tonight. You look exquisite in that gown. The ecru silk perfectly complements your rose complexion.”
Ecru? Brynne had never heard of the color before. He hoped Lettie wasn’t going to test him on it later because he was going to forget that word– ecru– within five minutes.
Possibly three minutes.
“Thank you, Lady Wrexham.” She blushed.
Lord Wrexham grinned. “A deadly combination, beautiful and modest.” He shot Brynne a quizzical glance, as though to say, “What are you waiting for, you ass? Why haven’t you married her yet?”
Frances joined in the merriment. “I expect Lettie will have no less than three offers of marriage before this night is through.”
Brynne bridled.
After a moment, the viscount took him aside while the ladies remained speaking to the young viscountess. “I understand you’ve been researching the battle of Towton. My ancestors and those of my wife were notable participants. We have an extensive library here that I’ll gladly put at your disposal. You’re welcome to use it at any time.”
