Page 26 of Nothing But a Rakehell
“But not for me,” they said in unison.
They shared a long look, then. A moment of perfect communion. Something inside of him let loose a long breath, like a relieved sigh—and relaxed.
“I’ll tell you a truth, Lady Glory.”
“How refreshing.”
He chuckled. “I was not excited at the prospect of attending this house party. In general, I prefer London and its amusements and variety of people. But I’m glad I came. I’m glad I met you.”
Her color rose, but some of the tightness around her eyes softened. “I’m glad we met, as well.”
“I think we should make a pact. You are not looking forward to the onset of this party any more than I am. What say we help each other through it?”
She nodded. Her gaze turned toward the distant estate. “Yes. I suspect I won’t be nearly as helpful to you, but I’ll do whatever I can.” She held out her hand and they shook to seal the bargain. “Here’s to both of us making it through this, unscathed.”
Chapter 6
The first guest for the house party arrived the next morning. Fortunately for Glory, it was only Mr. Barrett Sterne. An old friend of Tensford’s, he was already well acquainted with her and her limp—and he always teased her like a little sister. Teased her about everythingbuther limp—and she both appreciated the fact and cringed a bit over it.
Mr. Sterne was good natured and funny—and also a good friend of Lord Keswick’s. They all had a grand day while the men caught up and they all set up wickets and netting for lawn games and partook of a dinneral frescoon the terrace. The evening shadows grew long as the friends told stories about each other, each more outrageous than the last, while Hope and Glory laughed until their sides hurt.
She’d been right to stop him, she told herself over and over, as the day went on. She’d been right to stop the viscount before he kissed her. Even though her brain kept dragging the images forth, reliving the moment when those blue eyes had held hers, when he’d touched her cheek and leaned in, his wide shoulders blocking the sun. She’d shivered, but it hadn’t been from lack of heat. She’d been practically boiling over with conflicting emotions. Longing, curiosity, nerves, and yes, fear. Fear of the unknown, of appearing foolish—and of appearing to be just another besotted girl, like all the rest.
So, she’d stopped him. And they had made a pact. A friendly pact. That’s what she and Keswick would be . . . friendly. Real friends, perhaps. That moment when they’d connected . . . They were similar, in some elemental way. She didn’t quite understand it, yet, but surely it must be better than being just another girl that he’d kissed.
By the end of the day, she’d convinced herself it was true. They would be friends—and no more. And that would be both different and enough. When they all retired, Glory went to her room with a lighter heart, and the hope that she might survive this party, after all.
Her hopes wavered the next morning, when a mob of guests arrived all at once—all strangers. The courtyard was a buzz of greetings and laughter and servants running to and fro to see to the unpacking. Glory hung back, but Keswick caught her at it. With a stern look, he pulled her forward, right into the thick of the confusion.
Her leg dragged, but nerves danced to life in her wrist, where he gripped her. His touch sent tingles all along her arm. She could feel the heat rising in her face. Surely the newcomers would notice that. She was too busy noticing how lovely Keswick smelled to worry overmuch, however. It was her sister’s doing, she told herself sternly—and yet she couldn’t help but take another, deeper breath.
The air came sputtering back out when a pair of young ladies noticed her limping gait and exchanged glances. One merely looked startled, the other wore a familiar frown of distaste.
“Lady Glory,” Keswick said, pulling her to a stop before them. “Allow me to introduce these lovely ladies, whom I have only just met myself. Miss Parscate and Miss Redsmock, may I make you known to Lady Glory Brightley, who is sister to Lady Tensford?”
Glory dropped a curtsy.
One of the girls flushed. “Actually, my lady, it is Miss Ruddock.”
“Oh, do forgive me!” Keswick smiled, all charm. “I will make it up to you by presenting my very dear friend, Mr. Spurn.”
His friend rolled his eyes. “Ladies. I am Mr. Barrett Sterne. A pleasure.”
“Miss Ruddock,” the girl repeated.
“And Miss Parsonbait,” Keswick said smoothly.
The second girl laughed right out loud. “It is Parscate, sir. We are delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“My pleasure, and do forgive Lord Westlick,” Sterne said with a raised brow. “He truly is terrible.”
“At names,” Keswick prodded.
“That too,” Sterne agreed.
They all laughed and went into the house where guests were being sorted into rooms.
“You appear to be injured, Lady Glory,” Miss Ruddock said. “I hope you will recover quickly.”
