Anabelle Bryant - To Love A Wicked Scoundrel

But he did not move, not even a hair’s breadth. Instead his gaze slid down her length. Slowly.

‘And end our intriguing little interlude? We have yet to make our agreement official and seal it with a kiss?’

His improper suggestion was scandalous to say the least. How else could she explain her riot of emotions? Yet the fact he wooed every female with his fancy words and polished appearance afforded her the opportunity to find reason with expedience. She knew better than to take even one step onto such a dangerous path, no matter the temptation of kissing Constantine Highborough’s sensual mouth. Adventure, indeed.

Resorting to a feminine ploy far below her level of intelligence, Isabelle wriggled her wrist until her dance card fluttered to the floor at their feet. The embossed paper landed near his right boot. Then taking full advantage of the situation as he bent to retrieve the fallen card, she skirted around his prone form and out through the double doors. Isabelle thought she heard rich laughter, in tune to the thunderous beat of her heart, but she could not be sure.

Chapter Five

True to Isabelle’s prediction, Meredith described her midnight waltz in every minuscule detail during the carriage ride home. The few minutes spent within Lord Handsome’s embrace secured her determination to seek his affection and become his newest paramour.

Meredith continued to discuss the experience in a dreamlike tone at the breakfast table the following morning. Isabelle neglected sharing any mention of her brief interlude in the library. She was grateful she escaped the room without having to reveal her last name and held no desire to interfere with her stepmother’s plotting. The new day brought with it rational thinking and a sensible solution was easily found. From now on, she would steer clear of the devil with his hypnotic blue eyes and long golden hair. No matter how she itched to gather the lengths together where it overrode his collar.

Good heavens, she was behaving like a ninny. She forced the vivid images from her mind and helped Lily make her plate from the sideboard server, aware a change of topic was in order for no other reason than that the child had joined them.

‘I have a wonderful idea.’ Isabelle confirmed her sister had everything she needed for the meal before she filled her own plate and brought it to the table. ‘After I return from the flower mart this morning, let us plan to spend the afternoon in the square. You may take your hoop or we can walk the paths and look for interesting items to add to your jars.’

Lily’s favourite pastime stemmed from adding items to her vast collections. Isabelle was anxious to give the best part of the afternoon to her sister having spent so much time out of house the day before. ‘I am sure we will discover a rare feather or pretty pebble.’

The child clapped her hands and excitement lit her eyes. ‘That is a grand idea. I will be ready as soon as you return. I do hope we will find a lost button. I always wonder about the person who wore it before it fell off.’

Isabelle recalled the black glass button on Lord Highborough’s cuff when he reached forward to touch her hair the night before. She’d had the fleeting thought Lily would adore the sleek glass fastener, but had lost the idea once her gaze settled on the earl’s entrancing mouth.

Even in the light of a new day, the remembrance of his perfectly formed lips continued to haunt her. And his suggestion that they kiss . It was downright inappropriate. She ascertained its scandalous nature served as the reason she could not chase the persisting proposition from her mind.

‘What time are you going to Covent Garden?’ Meredith took a sip of tea with distracted attention. Would her stepmother hear her answer this time? She had mentioned her plans twice already.

‘After seeing the tulips last evening, I am anxious to explore the variety of flora available. On the rare occasion Father brought me to London, he always said a trip to Covent Garden was a waste of time. I’ve always wanted to go.’ A knowing smile teased her lips. The Rochester tulips had proved the perfect excuse for her absence from the ballroom upon Meredith’s inquiry of her whereabouts. She turned to Lily who looked quite adorable, her huge bites of currant toast having left smudges of sticky red jam on her cheeks.

‘Would you like me to bring you anything special from the flower market? Something we could keep upstairs in your bedchamber and will not cause your mother to sneeze?’

Lily giggled and leaned forward as Isabelle cleaned her sister’s face with a linen napkin. ‘You decide. I love surprises.’ Then she paused and cast her eyes downward in a compelling pose. ‘Although I do want a dormouse more than anything in the world.’

Meredith interjected, her tone adamant. ‘We are not getting a pet mouse. Most people work hard to keep mice out of their homes. I have told you as much before.’ She dismissed her daughter’s request and continued. ‘It will be terribly crowded at Covent Garden. Are you sure you wish to go?’

Isabelle stood and placed her napkin on the table, anxious to be on her way. ‘Yes, the market will be busy but I do not mind. Janie knows the area, as well as many other servants who shop there each week. She promised to show me the best merchants.’

‘Hurry back. I cannot wait to walk with you in the square.’ Lily’s appeal to return with haste was lost in another bite of toast, her cheeks again smudged rosy.

Isabelle moved to the front door and pulled on her gloves as Janie joined her. It would prove refreshing to take the quiet coach ride to Covent Garden. She missed the peacefulness of her flowers at Rossmore House and although the city promised a whirlwind of pleasant distractions, she enjoyed working her hands through the soil and nurturing the tiny seeds she’d planted until they reached full bloom. Gardening afforded her the opportunity to reflect upon life without the ubiquitous noises that filled the city streets on any given day. They’d resided in London for less than a week but already she grew restless. How would she ever keep herself sensibly occupied throughout the length of the season?

It took less than an hour for the coach to bring them to the famous shopping square and Meredith’s prediction of the crowds proved true. Janie kept her word and manoeuvered them through the market with ease. They headed towards the last stop of the day, a small vendor located at the far end of a narrow lane. The shopkeeper did not look busy even though the flower arrangements in the storefront display burst forth vibrant and abundant, the finest shown thus far.

Isabelle chose daisies, perfect for Lily’s bedchamber, and then spotted the loveliest bundle of red dahlias. Dahlias were her favourite flower and rather uncommon in England. The bouquet sat alone in a cobalt glass vase as if it awaited her attention. She walked to the table and reached to gather the flowers, but in a blur of red, the dahlias were scooped up from behind as a man dressed in servant’s attire reached over her shoulder in a brisk movement and collected the bouquet. Isabelle objected and Janie rushed to her side at once.

‘Indeed, that was not well done of you. I mean to purchase those. May I have them please?’ Isabelle hoped the servant would do the sensible thing and hand her the flowers under discussion. He already held several other selections in his over laden arms.

‘I am sorry but I cannot do that. My master made it clear I was to purchase dahlias this morning. It is unfortunate for you that I acquired the last bunch.’

Janie interceded, assuming the man would hear reason from a fellow servant, but it proved to no avail. The man refused to relinquish the dahlias no matter the discussion presented. Then, in an unexpected gesture, he offered Janie a wink at the conclusion of the exchange.