On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9) - Page 40

"Not yet" was all he said.

Later still, they returned to the ballroom where he insisted they waltz and wait for the unmasking so all would know that yes, they were there, in the ballroom where they were supposed to be, then, very correctly, he escorted her home.

Luc called in Upper Brook Street the next morning, only to learn that Amelia had gone walking in the park with Reggie.

He debated for all of two seconds, then headed for the park. He had to talk with her. Privately, but preferably in a safe, public setting.

He saw her before she saw him. She was standing on the lawn with a group of ladies and gentlemen. Pausing under a tree, partially screened by its leafy branches, he considered — her, him, what he was doing there.

Trying to buy time. Time to learn, to understand. To find answers to questions like: when had having a woman become synonymous with commitment? And now it so very strangely was, what did that mean?

He knew very well that the equation would not add up that way with any other woman, yet with Amelia… that's the way it was. No matter what he tried to pretend, no matter what he wished. He'd spent half the night forcing himself to face that truth. And trying to see beyond it.

The first thing he'd seen was the Hightham Hall house party he, Amelia and their mothers and his sisters were committed to attend — three days of unfettered summer entertainments starting tomorrow. At this stage, such a house party was the last thing he needed.

Time was what he needed — time to come to grips with his need for her, to understand it well enough to manage it, to control it. Instincts warred whenever he was close to her — he wanted her, now, yet on another plane knew that was dangerous. It wasn't she who was dangerous, but what she made him feel, and what that feeling might do to him. Being controlled by his emotions was not something that had ever threatened before — and he was adamant he wouldn't allow even this to develop to that extent.

So he was here to sue for mercy. Temporarily.

He sauntered out of concealment just as the group broke up. Lady Collins and Mrs. Wilkinson were late for a luncheon; he greeted them only to bid them farewell, using the distraction of their leaving to greet Amelia and appropriate her hand.

Reggie, on Amelia's other side, noticed, but pretended not to; as the two ladies departed, he tugged down his waistcoat. "Don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind stretching my legs. How about a stroll to the Serpentine?"

The others — Mrs. Wallace, Lady Kilmartin, Lord Humphries and Mr. Johns — greeted the suggestion favorably; as a group, they turned down the graveled path leading to the water.

It wasn't difficult to drop back, to slow their steps until there was sufficient distance between them and the others to talk freely.

Amelia cocked her head, lifted a questioning brow. "I presume there's something on your mind."

The smile that flirted about her lips, the glint in her blue eyes, suggested she knew very well what thought had leapt into his brain the instant he had her to himself again, a soft, female body by his side. Ruthlessly, he squelched it, but didn't take his eyes from hers. "Indeed."

His tone made her blink. Before she could start speculating, he continued, "The Hightham Hall house party. Tomorrow."

The light that leapt into her eyes had him hurrying on, "We need to be careful. I know what you're thinking, but while the venue might appear at first glance to be greatly amenable, in reality, such a crowded and cramped house poses dangers all its own."

Head tilted, she'd listened, her gaze steady on his face. Now she looked ahead. "I had thought that the house party was all but fated in terms of our direction." She glanced at him. "Are you telling me that view is incorrect?"

He nodded. Somehow, he had to convince her not to take advantage of the amenities afforded by a major house party to tempt him further — he felt certain she would try. His aim was to prevent that, in case she succeeded. "The prospect seems ready-made, I grant you, but—"

The others strolled ahead; luckily the Serpentine Walk was quite long. Amelia held her tongue and listened — to what anyone knowing Luc would instantly recognize as a plethora of nervous excuses. From him, given the subject of their conversation, the fact was astonishing.

"I can assure you the outcome risks being far less satisfactory than you might hope." He glanced at her, saw her rising brows, mentally replayed his words, hurriedly amended, "Not in terms of immediate enjoyment, but—"

That he didn't want to take advantage of the house party to further their interaction, to take what surely had to be the ultimate step, was crystal clear. Why was less so.

She let him talk without interruption, hoping to learn more. The situation, his reaction, was so unlike what she'd been expecting — what, knowing him, she had every reason to expect — she was more puzzled than dismayed. This was the man she wanted to marry; he was proving to have more layers than she'd imagined — it behooved her to pay attention.

"Ultimately, we have to consider the fact that any action likely to result in rumors besmirching your name must be avoided at all costs."

He sounded so pompous, she had to fight to keep her lips straight. They reached the end of the Serpentine's banks; the others had turned back toward the lawns. Luc halted, and drew her to face him. His eyes searched hers. "You do see, don't you?"

She studied his dark eyes, confirmed he was indeed worried, but about what she couldn't be sure. Nevertheless, she knew how to respond. She smiled reassuringly. "You know perfectly well I would never do anything to besmirch my name."

He wasn't so sure of her that he jumped to conclusions; his eyes searched hers for confirmation that she meant what he hoped she did. She let her smile deepen and patted his arm, then glanced up the Walk. "Now you'd better take me back before Reggie starts wondering if he did the right thing in allowing us to be alone."

Their mothers had decreed their party would set out for Hightham Hall at nine o'clock the next morning. Reggie's mother was feeling unwell, so he, too, was joining them. To

Luc's mind, that still left him in charge of too many females with insufficient male support — every one of those females could twist Reggie around her little finger.

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Cynster Historical
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