Page 4 of The Rakehell's Seduction
“Of course Iwould. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what it would be like, kissing a man like that? One who actually knows what to do with a woman?” Perdita’s dark-brown hair was pulled up, but loose curls teased the slope of her neck, and when she glanced about the curls danced on her skin. “You know what they say about him in London…”
“You mean about how he…” Alex’s words died on her tongue as Ambrose strode straight toward her. Fury blackened his eyes, but a sensual smile hovered at the edge of his perfectly curved lips as though he’d already planned his revenge. Whatever he’d dreamed up, she knew it wouldn’t be good.
“Oh dear, Perdy, save me quick!” Alex shoved her friend in front of her just as Ambrose reached them.
“Mr. Worthing, I presume?” Perdita flashed him a charming smile. She wasn’t a diamond of the first water, but men seemed to enjoy spending time with her during social engagements. There was a liveliness and playfulness to her that made her instantly amiable. It was a rare man who didn’t enjoy being around Perdita when she was playing the part of a charming young lady. Ambrose, however, seemed unaffected.
“Yes. You must be Miss Darby. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your mother.”
Even though his reply was directed at Perdita, his gaze scorched a path up and down Alex’s body, despite the human shield her friend presented.
Perdita chuckled wryly. “I doubt my mother’s acquaintance was much of a pleasure, but you are kind to say so. Are you staying in Lothbrook long?” She was a master conversationalist and wasn’t at all perturbed at being used as a shield. Alex was never more thankful Perdita was her friend.
Perdita suddenly nudged backward with her elbow, prodding Alex to try to slip away from her and Ambrose. A wonderful idea…a quick escape…
Ambrose, under the apparent guise of avoiding a nearby dancing couple, stepped closer to them and blocked Alex’s route to freedom. “I’m staying at the inn, but I’ve received an invitation to join the Earl of Rockford at his estate.”
Alex’s blood drained from her face. Her father had invited one of London’s most notorious rakehells to stay in their home? What on earth could he be thinking? Surely he wouldn’t have done so if he’d known of Ambrose’s reputation.
“You are acquainted with my father?” she blurted out.
“Your father?” His responding look of confusion caught her off guard. He didn’t know who she was.
“Yes, James Westfall, the Earl of Rockford.”
This time it was Ambrose who paled. “You’re Rockford’s daughter?” An unreadable expression filled his rich brown eyes. Earlier in the darkened garden, she hadn’t been able to make out his features as clearly, only that he’d been a tall, muscled man with a smooth voice and a decent face. But now in the light of the assembly room, when she was really having to face him, she couldn’t help but hate him just a little. He was too good-looking. With dark hair and dark eyes, full lips that seemed most comfortable when curled in a slightly sardonic grin, and a strong chin and straight nose, he was an ideal specimen of a man. Just like Marshall had been…
She shoved thoughts of Marshall away. The last thing she wanted to do was think of the young man who’d broken her heart five years ago before he’d left for London.
She forced herself to eye Ambrose critically. She liked being able to read a person, and it unsettled her, not having a clue what he was thinking. She shifted restlessly on her feet. If Alex didn’t know better, she’d have thought the look was that of quickly masked calculation.
“Mr. Worthing is acquainted with your father?” Perdita looked between them, amusement tugging the corners of her lips.
Ambrose recovered himself and smiled warmly. “I met him when I was a lad. Our fathers are old friends. I’ve only recently had the opportunity to renew the acquaintance.”
“Oh,” Alex breathed in relief. “You won’t be staying long then.”
“Alex!” Perdita jabbed her elbow sharply in Alex’s ribs.
“Oomf!” Alex hissed from the discomfort of that unexpected little blow and glared at her friend.
“Alex? You told me no one calls you that.” Ambrose crossed his arms, and Alex couldn’t help but admire the fine cut of his dark blue waistcoat. With broad shoulders, narrow hips, and muscled legs in buckskin breeches, Ambrose Worthing was a vision of masculine perfection. It was a pity he was no better than a bounder who preyed upon ladies of quality by seducing them for his own pleasures. A man like him should have had a sweet disposition and a kind heart and be loyal to a wonderful wife. But alas, the most attractive men were always the most dangerous, the rakes, the rogues—devils each and every last one.
“Her friends call her Alex.” Perdita flipped her fan open and looked at Alex from behind the lacy contraption, hiding a wide grin.
“Well then, Alex, I am delighted to make your acquaintance and am quite sure I shall win you as a friend.” Ambrose captured her hand and bent to press a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Alex’s blood heated at the hot pressure of his lips. He flicked his tongue against her pulse. She jerked her hand back in surprise. She’d suffered a hundred kisses to the hand over the last few years, and none had such an effect as Ambrose’s.
Why would he be different? It is probably because he infuriates me so, with his arrogance and his determination to woo. Well, I shall not be wooed.
“Miss Darby.” Ambrose kissed Perdita’s hand in a much more gentlemanly fashion. “Would you care to dance?” He flashed a smile in her direction, ignoring Alex completely.
Perdita’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Worthing. My dance card is full. Alex, however, has the next waltz free.”
“They allow you to waltz here?” Ambrose’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
“Alex can. Her father convinced the matrons of Lothbrook to allow it.” Perdita announced this with a great deal of pride. After all, it had been after the request her father had made, and it had taken Alex’s best behavior for two seasons to prove to the matrons she could be trusted to dance the scandalous waltz.
“Dancing on the edge of scandal?” Ambrose quirked his lips, reading her silent thoughts.
