Authors: Nichole Matthews
A wolfish smile suddenly covered his lips. Rolling over to his side, he ran his hand down her side over the generous curve of her hip and back up again. “Maybe you should try and distract my mind from all of this mundane unwanted business.
“
I would be delighted to my lord,” Her hand already wrapped around his rapidly swelling erection as she slowly kissed her way down the same path.
CHAPTER TEN
Tonight is the Wrothingham ball.
Lady Wrothingham is famous for her balls, always one of the most extravagant balls of the season. She always decorates lavishly. Very entertaining indeed. Last year she held an Italian themed ball with ices and gondolas. Very ingenious.
Parker was asking me about Chester’s cousin, George Smith. I almost fainted. I’m sure I rambled for five minutes. It was all so horrible. I hope he doesn’t have a clue. At least it kept his mind off of my hair. He hasn’t even mentioned that I chopped it off. Thank goodness!
I hope Rockwell attends and I fear it at the same time. I long to see him again, I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but him. The sweep of his hair, the width of his shoulders, his spectacles! It is all so very intriguing to me. Incredibly so…
Piper’s journal
9 July
GRAYDON SMILED, SITTING BACK, HOLDING HIS CUP OF TEA. His long muscular legs stretched out before him covered in tight buckskins, his feet encased in well-polished top boots. “Mother…” He was never able to get a word in edge wise with his mother present. She felt she was obligated to remind him incessantly of his
duty
to provide an heir.
He had a standing appointment for tea with his mother at least three days per week, but she was swiftly making these visits seem more like a chore. A few years ago he had purchased his own private home on Curzon Street which left his mother and sisters free to do as they pleased in the Rockwell townhome on Berkeley Square, allowing him a few moments of peace when he was in Town.
Annabelle Morgan, barely in her early fifties, was still an attractive woman. He had always wondered why she never remarried, especially with his two younger sisters still at home. He knew for a fact that his parents’ marriage was not a happy one. It had been strictly for money and title. He got the distinct impression that his mother had felt nothing but relief when his father died. It wasn’t as if he had given her anything to be happy about. She constantly had to grit her teeth and smile through all the gossip. And based on the plentiful rumors he was surprised that his father didn’t have a multitude of by-blows running around the country seeking entrance into Society.
“
Graydon, darling,” His mother sat wrapped in one of her expensive shawls. She lifted her fine bone china, hand painted with country roses and gold trim, and took a dainty sip of her tea. “‘Tis well past time that you took a bride.” Her gaze ran over his broad shoulders encased in Bath superfine, pleased that her son was such a fine example of manhood. “It shouldn’t be difficult. Just pick one.”
Her well-rehearsed admonishments over his lack of a bride washed over him without incident. “Mother, you’re asking me to choose a bride with less care than I choose my cattle.” Graydon grimaced, but his eyes had softened.
“
Of course not.” She snorted. I’m just asking you to choose sooner rather than later.” She paused to take another sip of tea. “You’re not getting any younger, darling.”
“
I’m not yet one and thirty. There is no need for me to rush into an unwanted marriage, Mother.” He grimaced at his now lukewarm tea before placing it on the side table. “I’ve not stuck my spoon in the wall yet.”
“
I don’t know why I bother talking to you.” She harrumphed and then took another sip of her tea. Sitting her cup down, she folded her hands across her lap.
“
Because you love me,” he said candidly, winking at her. Wishing all the while that he could somehow escape his mother’s persistent badgering without causing her undo pain. He sat quietly, his gaze not wavering from his mother’s piercing stare.
“
Can you at least pretend to be searching instead of spending all your time with that
widow
?” Her lips pursed as she pierced him with one of her haughtiest stares, “I cannot believe you would want the title and everything that goes with it to pass to some beastly distant relation,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“
Mother, you are hopeless.” He chuckled as he stood and walked to the bow window that overlooked the street. “Have I no secrets from you?”
“
Not when you insist on flaunting them publicly.” She looked anything but pleased.
He snorted. “When can I expect Esme and Olivia to come to Town, Mother?” Turning back to her with an amused expression, he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“
I wish you would take this seriously.” She sighed. “Your sisters will be here in a fortnight. You know very well that they arrive in time for the Sotherland’s garden party every year. You are fully aware that they expressly enjoy the boat rides. You are sorely trying my patience, Graydon.” Lady Rockwell smiled benignly. “And I expect you to accompany us and insist that you help me entertain your sisters.”
“
Indeed, Mother.” Graydon was always prepared for his mother’s mandates and he generally indulged her fancies without question. He had always felt that his father treated his mother most appallingly. He never bothered to hide his insatiable appetite for gambling and mistresses. His father’s desire to publicly humiliate his mother had always been a sore point for Graydon. He couldn’t think of a single human being that mourned the loss of James Morgan, including him. In fact, his death was probably a relief for most who had known him. His jaw clenched, his fingernails bit into his palms just thinking of his father.
He took the few steps necessary and plopped back in his chair, tensing at it ominous creaking. He propped his ankle on his knee, taking a calming breath. Staring at his cup, he scrutinized each intricately painted detail in the light of his mother’s parlor attempting to dwell on the mundane in order to make the important seem irrelevant.
“
Would you care for some more tea, Graydon?”
“
No, thank you, Mother.” He stood smoothing his coat.
“
You are escorting me to the Wrothingham ball tonight, aren’t you darling?” She asked with her cheek lifted to receive his farewell kiss.
Walking over to the gold brocade settee, he leaned down and kissed her lightly rouged cheek. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He smiled, giving a faint bow before exiting the house.
…………………
.…………….
Piper looked at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror. Her ladies maid, Bridget, was arranging her new short curls. “I think my short hair is
growing
on me,” She chuckled at her
bon mot
.
“
Oh, you are being a silly girl.” Bridget scrutinized Piper’s hair, her gaze serious. “I do believe I am beginning to like your short hair as well, miss,” Bridget said, applying brilliants to her perfectly arranged curls. “It certainly brings out your eyes. Others will be envious of your curls. No curling papers can do what this cut has done for yours.”
Piper turned her head to the left, then the right in an effort to view the style from all angles. “Do you truly think so?” Piper frowned. “As long as Parker doesn’t notice, I believe I will be all right.” Grinning. “Much easier to deal with, don’t you agree.”
Chuckling softly, Bridget nodded her head in agreement. “Much easier, miss. You will be all the rage for the remainder of this season. I’d wager on it.”
Piper stood and smoothed her hands over her white satin gown with gauze overskirt. She stood still for a moment as Bridget fastened her Amethyst pendent about her neck. It had been a gift from her father to her mother on their wedding day. She always felt more confident when it circled her neck. It’s the very necklace her mother wore in her final portrait that hung above the mantel in the
Rose Room
at Rosebriar.
She patted the pendant then slipped on her long white gloves. Turning in front of the beveled glass that stood in the corner, she raised her eyebrows in question, staring ruefully at her reflection before turning. “Thank you, Bridget.” Piper grinned brilliantly. “You have worked your magic once again.” She spun enthusiastically in a circle unable to hide her enthusiasm. She was going to see Rockwell tonight. She could feel it in her bones.
“
Have a grand time tonight, my lady.”
“
Don’t wait up for me, Bridget, for we will be home very late.” Then she dashed excitedly out of the room.
…………………………………
Piper smiled brightly as she was twirled about the room with her third dance partner for the evening. She loved to dance. She felt free. Her reserve disappeared when she danced. She didn’t have to worry about being witty, she just had to move. She could do that without any anxiety. This was one of the obvious differences between her and her twin. Poppy could talk to and charm anyone, too bad she wasn’t here to help tonight, and too bad they weren’t identical. She could surely use an identical twin to help woo Rockwell. One with heaps more confidence.
Spinning around and around and around she laughed gaily with her partner, Lord Rothenberry. She knew he was trying to woo her. He wanted a lady to be the mother of his young daughter, but he wanted an heir more. She wrinkled her nose. He was like an uncle though, not someone she wished to marry.
A shiver of awareness slithered down her spine when she glanced over Lord Rothenberry’s shoulder nearly stumbling when she suddenly met the indolent gaze of Lord Rockwell. A slow wicked smile curved his mouth. He stood next to Lord Seymour, both propped negligently against the doorframe that led out to the garden. He was watching her with avid attention, causing a peculiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. She continued to meet his stare. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t pull her eyes away. Even as she spun around and around her eyes kept returning to his.
Soon the music stopped and she was escorted back to her long-time companion Miss Aurora Harris, curiously she glanced back over her shoulder one more time to find Rockwell staring back at her with a cocked eyebrow. She quickly turned around tugging on her right earlobe, a deep flush warming her face.
Graydon’s eyes had been drawn to her the minute he had entered the ballroom. His list of conquests was long. Too long, embarrassingly long, but none had affected him beyond the physical until now. She challenged him. She charmed him into thinking of lifetimes instead of evenings. Content to stand propped against the wall as she was engaged for every dance. A wide grin spread across his face as he watched her play with her earlobe. Her
tell
. He noticed she tugged on her ear whenever she was uncomfortable. Everyone has a
tell
and he had learned one of hers. He knew it. He could always count on his instincts when it came to women. Well almost always.
“
How in God’s name did I let you talk me into coming here tonight? What did I ever do to you?” Seymour asked dryly. “I give you ten more minutes of my company and then I will be searching for more entertaining venues.”
Taking a swallow of Wrothingham’s
finest
whiskey, Graydon’s golden brows raised high upon his forehead. “Let me think for a moment,” he contemplated, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Could it be the laugh you attempted to gain this past summer at Ashford’s using me for your amusement? Surely you didn’t think that would remain a secret for long with Durham with you.” He snorted. “He is worse than a gossiping chit. He practically wrote to me the very next day.” His tone was one of resigned humor.
Turning languidly towards his friend, Seymour snorted. “Is that all?” He waived his hand dismissively, shaking his head dubiously. “All I was attempting to do was liven up Ashford’s picnic. Why would you mind? You throw women to the side all the time.” Looking at his perfectly manicured hand, then he glanced up. “How was that time any different?”
“
You know perfectly well that I have never taken advantage of an innocent maiden,” he gritted out through his tightly clamped jaw. “I have never seen the need.”
“
Then why are we at this particular ball watching Ashford’s
innocent
sister?”
Graydon’s frown deepened as the silence dragged. “Fuck off, Seymour.”
Seymour threw back his head and laughed loudly drawing unwanted attention towards them. “Resorting to such vulgarities so soon and in public my friend? You must be completely smitten with the chit.”
“
I’m only trying to teach her a lesson.” He glanced sideway. “All I need you to do is help me distract Portland or anyone else that might get in my way tonight. He is her little protector. God knows why?” He glanced at Portland in amusement.
“
No woman has ever been able to resist you for long,” Seymour observed. “You’d better watch it. Ash will eat you for breakfast if you hurt his little sister.”