Page 15 of The Rakehell's Seduction
Surely Lady Alexandra Rockford did not stoop to involving her own staff in plots to make him angry. Lady Alexandra might not…but his cunning little Alex certainly would. And after all that talk this morning, when he’d felt he was coming to know her. He crumpled the directions in his palm. When he got hold of her at the picnic, he was going to get his revenge for this.
The entire walk back, Ambrose plotted his revenge for Alex’s trick. How he would get her alone away from the rest of the country folk and show her just what it meant to be the full focus of his attention. By the time he found Darby House, the rest of the town and the surrounding gentry had assembled on the lawn in front of the large Georgian country house. Tents had been erected, and tables with tea were already crowded with ladies and gentlemen. The light breeze tugged at the ladies’ skirts, making the fabric shape to their bodies. It was quite a sight when he noticed Alex by the tea tables, talking avidly with Perdita. Both ladies were distractedly pulling at their skirts while laughing.
She was lovely—there was no denying that now. He’d thought her passingly pretty before, but the more time he spent around her, the more times she frustrated him and challenged him, the more he found he admired her…admired anddesiredher. He wanted to cup that little chin of hers and brush his thumbs over her cheeks and watch her eyes darken as he bent his head to kiss her.
When she glanced his way, he flashed her a wolfish grin before he headed toward where a group of men stood by one of the large fountains.
“Ambrose, my boy, over here!” Rockford waved him over, a broad smile and merriment dancing in his eyes.
It was impossible to ignore the sudden blossom of warmth in his chest at being welcomed so openly by the older man. Rockford was very much like his own father, a kind man who never went without friends. A little voice in the back of Ambrose’s mind raised a question.
Why aren’t you the same? What made you so cold and distant?
He and his friend Gareth had once been happy young men at Eton together and later at university, but somewhere between leaving school and growing up they’d lost their inner joy. Gareth had of course married and lost his wife in childbirth. That would break even the strongest of men. But now he had Helen and was the old Gareth that Ambrose believed he’d never see again.
I haven’t lost anyone. I was never in love or married. So what makes me so cold?
He stilled just as he reached the group of men by the fountain. He had lost someone. He and Gareth had been close friends with Vaughn, who was now Viscount Darlington.
Vaughn’s father had passed away, leaving Vaughn with a mountain of debt, and he’d sought to recover himself in whatever way he could, often through winning small fortunes from other men during games of chance—not that it worked well in the long term. The Darlington estate was still impoverished. And when Vaughn had slipped into this less honorable means of obtaining coin, it had pushed both Gareth and Ambrose away from him. They hadn’t been able to stomach his harsh methods of keeping his family estate intact. It was hard to stand by a man who would financially break other men with gambling debts. But it was never enough to keep Darlington House safe from creditors. Vaughn needed a rich wife who would provide him with plenty of funds.
More than once Ambrose and Gareth had sought to convince Vaughn to part with his family’s home and sell it. But he’d refused to even entertain the idea and had severed ties with them.
Losing his friend had been dreadful, and his heart had turned to ice.
“Glad to see you found your way! Didn’t get lost, did you?” Rockford teased as he clapped a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder when he fully entered the circle of men.
“Lost? No, definitely not.” He chuckled and cast one knowing glance toward Alex, who was still watching him.
Soon he’d catch her alone and they would have a discussion about her devilish tactics to upset him. A discussion that would involve a fair amount of kisses.
*****
Normally Alex would have enjoyed Lady Darby’s picnic, but not today. She was sleep-deprived and grumpy.
“You look dreadful,” Perdita murmured when Alex joined her by the tea tables.
“Do I? I certainly feel it.” She knew she must look poorly if her friend was telling her so. Her reflection this morning had been that of a pale woman with dark circles under her eyes. It had been impossible to sleep with Ambrose down the hall. And this morning they’d talked again as they had the night before in the kitchens, sharing parts of themselves with each other. The intimacy of those moments had frightened her. The man had shown her a great affection for his mother and sister and a childhood full of happy memories that matched her own.
We each guard our own hearts.That common ground unsettled her.
“But I do have something that will cheer us up. I’ve set in motion plans to drive Mr. Worthing back to London!”
Her friend covered her mouth. “Oh no, Alex, what have you done?”
“Just a few things…I gave him false directions to send him to Mr. Merryweather’s cow field rather than to your house. If my plans succeed, he might miss the picnic altogether.”
Perdita and Alex both started laughing.
“That’s terribly wicked of you. But I don’t understand. I thought perhaps you and Mr. Worthing might have decided you rather liked each other and were not mortal enemies.” Perdita looked down, running a palm over her pale-green walking dress.
“Like each other? Good heavens, Perdita, I certainly don’t like him.”
Perdita poured herself a new cup of tea and dropped two lumps of sugar into it. “I was quite convinced you might…because well…”
“Because…” Alex focused on her friend, wondering what Perdita meant. The fact that her dearest friend seemed to think she and Ambrose liked each other was not reassuring.
“You didn’t sleep with Mr. Worthing last night, did you?” Perdita changed the subject slightly, and Alex didn’t like where this question was headed.
