Page 74 of The Viscount's Promise
Perhaps to savehimthis time.
Chapter 26
Malcolm had tried.
For hours he had tried to blend back into this world, to put the last three weeks behind him and return to what he had been before. He looked out over the mass of bodies, and just managed to hold back the growl that clamored and clawed in his chest. Nothing had been the same since his return to London.
He knew, deep in his soul, it never would be again.
Emily had changed the very essence of him. The dissolute, unfeeling rake—that persona he had claimed for so many years—was no longer within him. There was not a hint of it left. His heart no longer lay dead and cold in his chest. Instead it beat with fierce life. Telling him he was a fool. That he should go back for her, claim her, live the remainder of his days with her arms cradling him and her kiss on his lips.
Letting loose a low curse, ignoring the passing debutantes who gasped and tittered at him behind their fans, he snatched up a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman. He downed it in one swallow, returning it to the tray as quickly as he had taken it, and strode to the open doors leading to the dark garden. Breathing in deeply of the cool evening air, he fought to put his mad desire for Emily from his mind.
Had he learned nothing? He was better off alone. Even if he followed his desires and returned to Emily, even if he took her for his own, there would always be something between them. In his heart he would know that, no matter how happy he was in the moment, it could not last. It never did. Hadn’t Emily already proved that she would rather be alone than take a chance on what they could have?
The crowd felt suddenly too dense, the conversation too loud, the laughter too grating. Desperate for escape, he turned back to the ballroom, determined to leave this farce of an evening and lick his wounds in the privacy of his own home.
“Malcolm.”
Foolish hope leapt in his breast. For one bright, shining moment he thought it might be Emily. But no, she was safely back at Willowhaven. She would never come to London, at least not willingly.
Even so, he turned, a silent prayer on his lips that died a swift death when he saw who it was.
“Lydia.”
She smiled up at him, those cerulean eyes of hers as wide and innocent as when he’d fallen in love with her. Though now he looked clearly into their depths and could see that a flat emptiness lurked there.
“I didn’t expect you back in London so soon,” she said.
“Yet here I am.”
“Yes, you are.” Her smile widened. “And alone. I admit I had expected you to have a...companion with you when next I saw you.”
His every muscle tensed. Emily flashed in his mind, quickly banished. “Did you?”
“Oh, yes. Though I am ever so glad you’re unattached. Did things not work out, then, with your little friend?”
“What do you want, Lydia?” he gritted.
“I’m just so glad to see you again after so many years. I admit, I had not thought of you when I decided to move to London. But then I saw you in Northamptonshire. It was such a pleasant surprise. I had forgotten how...virile you are.”
She moved closer, her fingers skimming up his arm. He fought the urge to slap her hand away, instead stepping back so it fell back to her side.
She smirked. “You needn’t act so coy, Malcolm.”
“I assure you, I am not acting coy,” he bit out.
“Come now, we are no longer at that stuffy house party. This is London. The rules are quite different here. It is expected that widowed women take lovers.” To punctuate her words, she stepped closer to him, surreptitiously running her hand along his sleeve.
Malcolm stared hard at her. “You cannot possibly be serious.”
“I assure you, I am.”
The purr of her voice, meant to inflame his interest no doubt, only managed to spark his disgust. “Entering into such a relationship with you, madam, is the very last thing I wish in the world. As I told you in Northamptonshire, if I never see you again, I will be too happy. What I wish is for you to disappear from my life. Forever.”
She stared up at him, stunned, before her expression dissolved into humor. “You cannot mean to tell me you don’t want me, Malcolm.” She chuckled, a throaty sound that at one time would have sent him into a frenzy of passion. “Not after our past. I have never had anyone want me with such desperation. That could not have faded.”
He leaned in close to her, letting his lips brush her ear, fiercely pleased at the utter lack of response his body had for her. She gave a breathy little gasp, the laugh falling from her lips as quickly as it had started. Proving that she was not so immune.
