Authors: Nichole Matthews
“
Rockwell?” A female voice, just faintly heard, held a slight hint of annoyance as it floated out to the terrace. “I saw you come this way, darling.”
Graydon glanced past her shoulder and frowned as jagged shards of frustration slashed through his body at the untimely interruption.
Piper pulled on her wrist trying to dislodge her hand from his grasp, searching his shadowed features.
Graydon tightened his grip, his fingers fixed as he watched her bright blue eyes become dull, suddenly devoid of any warmth. He concealed his disappointment with a wry grin, “My dear, it has been an unexpected pleasure.” He looked into her eyes, bringing her hand back up to his lips, kissing the tips of her gloved fingers.
Piper blinked, uncertain of the proper response to his touch, to his words, to his game. She wanted to feel anger, but the feel of his lips made her feel something wholly different. She shivered, fixing her narrowed eyes on him; unable to say a word. Yanking her hand away she stared at him with a disbelieving expression reflected in her wounded blue eyes.
He placed his finger over her lips to silence any verbal complaint, then with a wicked wink, Graydon straightened and walked back into the ballroom.
Moving to the door, Piper peeked back into the ballroom just in time to watch
Lady Carleton drape herself on Rockwell’s arm.
Blast
!
Piper’s eyes widened when Rockwell glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her once more.
Gasping at his audacity, Piper spun around and pressed her back firmly against the ivy covered brick wall. Holding her breath, she squeezed her eyes closed and counted to ten. Conscious only of her heart pounding out a wild beat against her ribs.
He was good. He was either truly an expert at trapping desperate women in his web of seduction, or she was more of a simpleton than she wanted to believe. And she most assuredly didn’t classify herself in the category of simpleton.
Silently she cursed Rockwell for making her feel this way.
For making her feel vulnerable.
For making her feel insecure.
For making her feel… flushed and hot.
And most of all, for making her feel exhilarated.
She hadn’t felt excitement like that in…well, never...
Blast the man! She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then opened her eyes to stare out into the moonlit garden enhanced by the twinkling fairy lights swinging from the trees. How dare he touch her one minute as if he had every right and then the next stroll through the ballroom with another
lady
plastered to his side. A very
unladylike
snort escaped at the word. There was nothing to it. She was going to have to remove him from her every thought, but how? She was gaining no benefit from losing herself in a daydream that incorporated a completely inappropriate example of a gentleman. She sucked in a long, slow breath and released it on a hiss. Sagging back against the wall, she fanned herself vigorously with her fan.
How dare she wish it were her glued to him instead?
Abruptly she pushed off from the wall, straightened her back and squared her shoulders. Smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt, she turned and strode into the ballroom; chin held high with a smile pasted on her face.
As soon as she walked back into the ballroom, she was immediately hemmed in by more than a few desperate men in need of a wealthy wife. She smiled and simpered to the best of her ability, but in her mind she compared them to
him
, and each were found wanting.
At that moment she became irritated with Miss Harris. Because each time she looked up, she could only see blurs and splashes of color. What was so awful with spectacles? Hers were of the highest quality, even better than most of the paste jewels worn tonight that barely sparkled in the light of the hundreds of lit candles. She fought back annoyance due to the fact that she was unable to see more than a few feet in front of her face without her spectacles perched high atop her nose. What did it matter if she wore spectacles anyway? How were they any worse than the constant squint she was forced to endure in order to see? No one wanted her for her looks; they all wanted her for her obscenely large inheritance or her impeccable family connections. If she were truly honest with herself, she was displeased at the irrational ire that circulated throughout her mind due to the fact that she was unable to clearly follow Rockwell’s procession across the dance floor, which in turn spiked her frustration even further. She had a desperate need to once again witness his outrageous flirtation with every unsuitable woman in the room in order to crush this absurd obsession she felt for him.
But just as she suspected, her efforts were futile.
In order to distract her thoughts, she forced herself to dance several more dances; but with each pass around the floor she scanned the room in hopes that she would catch even the slightest glimpse of that tall, golden man.
She was a foolish woman if she allowed her evening to be ruled by one man. A man who hadn’t bothered to seek her out further, who hadn’t even attempted to secure a proper introduction, who didn’t even know her name. Foolish…Piper tensed as an unwanted voice interrupted her already irritated thoughts.
“
Lady Piper.” Fulton bowed in front of her. “I believe this is my dance.”
Piper hesitated before glancing up into Mr. Fulton’s cold, beady eyes. “Yes, Mr. Fulton, I believe you are correct.”
Across the crowded ballroom, Graydon stood propped against the wall with a half-filled glass in his hand and a full-fledged frown upon his face.
He was cognizant of her every move.
Every sigh.
Every laugh.
Especially every dance when she was in the arms of another man.
There was not a single moment that passed that he could not pinpoint her whereabouts in an instant. He had always been intensely aware of her, but now even more so because he finally knew how she felt in his arms—perfect.
The sound of soft laughter floated across the ballroom, and he knew it was her laughter because it caused his whole body to tighten in response. Unfortunately for him, Lady Caroline’s tart voice required all of his concentration. Her ample body practically spilled out of the gown she wore as she strategically pressed herself against him. Her cloying perfume no longer enticed, it suffocated, contrary to Piper’s fresh scent. And although she did have the most extraordinary breasts he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on; and he had seen more than his fair share, the sight no longer aroused.
In fact, he was repulsed by her outrageous behavior, her shrill voice, and her nakedness.
At that precise moment, Lady Caroline’s talons raked over his coat sleeve sending chills down his spine.
Brusquely he pulled away from her, looking at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Not tonight, my dear.” He gave her a tight smile. “I’ve made other plans.”
……………………………………
..
The guests scattered as he plowed through the masses. His stormy countenance was enough to keep even his closest friends at bay. Not one of them attempted to stop him when he stomped out of the ballroom. They only followed his departure with curious stares, some with noticeable amusement.
He was surprised that Wells, his aging butler, didn’t scurry from the foyer the minute he slammed open his front door.
Handing over his coat and other accoutrements for the evening, he hastily made his way to the library. The sedately appointed room covered with deep mahogany walls and furnishings eased his spirits tremendously. His haven, his sanctuary, his secret vice.
Retrieving a glass and a decanter of his best brandy, Graydon sprawled in his favorite over-stuffed chairs situated comfortably before the low burning fire and methodically breathed, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension apparent there.
“
My lord? Another message was delivered. I thought you would want to read it before morning.” Wells handed over the paper, then stepped back. “Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable, my lord?”
Graydon rolled his head back and forth against the back of his chair. “I’m sorry old friend. My attitude is unforgivable.”
“
Not at all, my lord.” Wells bowed. “Have a pleasant evening.”
Graydon reached for the book lying atop the low table.
Frankenstein
, how fitting. He snorted derisively. He started reading at the page he marked earlier.
I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion,
to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on.
Slamming the book closed, he tossed it uncaringly to the floor. Reaching for his glass he finished the drink in one mouthful, wasting no time in pouring another.
Remembering the note left atop the end table, he unfolded the square and read.
Rockwell,
There is nothing you can do to stop me.
W.
Son of a bitch!
Who was
W
?
Fifteen minutes later he was well on his way to forgetting the note and to being comfortably numb.
Why must he be suddenly consumed with such deep reflections? It was what it was. Or so his mother felt compelled to remind him at each one of his visits.
He hated the way he must always be on guard. Why must he be endlessly wary of each person that attempted to breach the walls he had intentionally built around his heart?
And he was hopeful that someone would truly be brave enough to do so.
Did no one else notice the wit that lay beneath her blue eyes? Shaking his head, he swallowed another healthy dose of brandy.
Where had that thought come from?
He was clearly becoming sentimental in his old age. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Thirty. Why did that suddenly feel so old? And when did he start turning down well-endowed, lusty young widows for a night of bed sport?
Graydon surged to his feet, pushing back his chair with such force that it almost toppled over, rocking precariously for several seconds before settling on all four legs. Swaying slightly, he struggled to maintain balance in his inebriated state. “It’s her,” he muttered in exasperation to the empty room, closing his eyes to stop the spinning. His mother must be getting to him. Her constant chatter about marriage was seeping into his brain. He rolled his eyes with exaggerated fear. Life was so complex.
Graydon sat down again with a thump as the brandy induced fog swirled warmly through his veins. He raised his glass high above his head and spoke loudly to the same empty room; a sloppy grin spreading across his face.
“A toast to Graydon Morgan, one poor, deluded bastard.”
He downed the remainder of his brandy before throwing his glass against the stone fireplace, watching raptly as shards of glass splintered over the carpet. He watched as colorful prisms of light danced happily over the wall, brought to life by the glow of the dying fire.
The last thought that flittered through his muddled mind was the difficulty of removing brandy stains from a rug. It was quite expensive, after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tonight I’m going to find out what the men do that is so much more exciting than us mere females.
I’ll do practically anything to have the best club in London.
Piper’s journal
1 July
“
AGNES, YOU ARE THE ONLY OTHER PERSON THAT KNOWS OF MY PLANS, besides Chester.” Piper raised her brow challengingly at her best friend, watching Agnes’ fretful pacing, back and forth at the foot of her bed before she finally halted before her.
“
Only you would believe it reasonable to ask me to choose between the stocks or sneaking into a men’s literary club.”
Piper’s smile was calm and serene. “Aren’t you doing it a little too brown?”
“
Have you forgotten who my father is?”
“
He will only know of our plans, if you find it necessary to tell him.”
“
I can’t believe you are putting me in this predicament.” Agnes groaned. “What if you’re caught?”
“
Well, just hide.” Piper glanced around the room. “All you are doing is pretending to be with me for the night. No one but you and I will know any different.”
“
I suppose I can hide in the nursery and read for the evening,” Agnes responded.
“
It’s not as if you are going with me.” Piper smirked. “Of course, you can still change your mind if you want. Think how much fun we could have going together. What an adventure!”
“
No thank you.” Agnes laughed. “I’m not going to be sent to the country for the remainder of the season or even possibly my life.”
“
You exaggerate.” Piper snorted.