Strictly Forbidden (18 page)

“It will pass,” he said, hoping desperately it was true.

Before Brock could reply
or refute Gavin’s claim, Lady Litchfield entered the room with her usual noble grace.
And right behind her stood a wholly unexpected guest.

The Earl of Westland, the uncle Kira had never met.

A
vise
of apprehension clamped inside his gut. Damnation! The night was about to get bloody
complicated.

Kira resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest as she observed Mrs. Howland’s
dinner party. Rather, she pretended interest in the intricate plaster moldings of
urns and rosettes above the doorways. An occasional glance at the muted landscape
paintings upon the walls broke the monotony. And she wished herself anywhere else.

The subdued chatter made her head buzz. A half hour past, Darius had pressed a glass
of sherry into her hand, but it remained there, untouched.

Why had James insisted she attend? Her presence here would do nothing to change the
ton’s
opinions. Oh, James had done his best to introduce her around, but he had discerned
very quickly that no one viewed the meeting as a pleasure. He had given up finally,
and Kira retreated against the pale yellow wall, fighting back the same tears she’d
fought all her life.

Why did no one see her for who she was? They saw only the scandal, the half-Persian
blood. Blast it, neither made her less of a person.

Across the room, James trailed after his mother, who made her way about the room in
a subtle gown of pale blue. Gavin stood with a handsome gentleman who’d come with
a lovely auburn-haired lady. No one in her fiancé’s family, even James himself, seemed
inclined to include her in their conversation. At times like these, Kira yearned to
be socially adept, so she might seem less like an outcast. But her shyness held her
back. Well, that and scandal…

A moment later, Gavin turned to the door. Kira raised her gaze in the same direction.
A tall, statuesque woman with shining golden hair entered, seeming to float past a
half-moon table and the velvet Grecian chaise. Dressed to perfection in an elegant
gown the color of spring grass, the woman and her smile were cool, collected
,
as if untouched by the world. Her blue eyes shone with intelligence in a face of the
palest porcelain. Quickly, Kira observed that everyone greeted her with deference.
The woman accepted the attention as if it were her right, deigning to grant the
crowd
of people
polite nods and greetings in return, as she saw fit.

She epitomized the perfect English rose, one who was everything
Kira
would
never
be
. A pang of envy pierced her. How confident the lady must feel to know she would be
well received wherever she went, her opinions sought and respected. How wonderful
not to feel timidity in public.

Kira watched her, alternately dispirited and fascinated, as the woman greeted a group
of revered matrons, including Mrs. Howland. A dashing, if slightly older man named
Lord Toth, to whom she had been earlier introduced, approached. The woman gave him
little notice until a very tall blood with tawny hair sauntered in her direction,
flashing her a wicked grin. The Earl of Darehurst
. S
he remembered James pointing him out.

When the tawny-haired giant greeted her, however, the woman clung to Lord Toth’s arm,
murmured something short, and turned away. Kira watched the odd exchange with a puzzled
frown. Did she dislike Darehurst?

She still had no answer when Gavin made his way to the stately blonde’s side and bowed
over her hand with a smile, placing a proper kiss upon it. She abandoned Lord Toth
instantly. Darehurst looked on with a glare.

But Kira hardly cared. She looked upon the exchange between Gavin and
the
woman with alarm. No awkward pauses or introductions between them. In fact, their
smiles told Kira they were well acquainted, indeed. Kira feared
,
felt it in her gut somehow
,
that the rose in question was Lady Litchfield, the woman Gavin intended to wed.

Lady Litchfield gave him a cool nod, then she began to converse with both he and Gavin’s
male friend. Another man, one who had entered the room behind her, soon joined their
group.

Kira watched Gavin. Nothing but esteem showed in his look. Clearly, he held Lady Litchfield
in very high regard. A pang of hurt wound its way th
r
ough Kira.

“Who is that?” Darius whispered in her ear.

“I feel certain that is Lady Litchfield, a young widow Cropthorne fancies he will
wed, according to James.”

“They will likely make a miserable couple, for they both seem arrogant.”

With a gaze, Kira rebuked her brother. “Gavin is not
so
bad. He’s actually quite pleasant when he chooses.”

“Gavin, is it?” Darius shot her a stare sharp with question.

“Must you be so suspicious? He asked me to make use of his given name, since we will
soon be of the same family.”

“Did he?” Darius looked less than pleased by her revelation.

“Indeed.” Kira frowned. How could she explain that, since their truce, she’d come
to know Gavin much better than Darius imagined?

“Are you aware that he wants you?”

Darius rarely minced words, but this stunned even her. “That’s absurd. I’m to wed
his cousin, and he has a perfectly lovely woman he will soon offer for—
”

“I did not say he wanted to marry you.”

Darius’s gaze held such gravity, Kira paused. Was it true? While it seemed unlikely,
she was torn between indignation and a dangerous delight. The reckless pre-wedding
shivers were back.

Darius scrutinized her expression
and apparently disliked what he saw. “Watch yourself, sister.”

“He’s only broached me with becoming friends for the sake of family harmony.”

Her brother’s mouth twisted down into a cynical smile. “Cropthorne can call it whatever
he likes, but by any name he chooses, I feel certain it’s seduction he has in mind.”

“You are so mistrustful.”

Beside her, Darius shrugged. He would let the matter drop for now
,
but Kira knew that would not be the last she heard on the subject.

“Who is the other man? The one who entered behind Lady Litchfield?”

Kira glanced at the man standing beside Gavin, near the drawing room door. He was
an older gentleman and a stranger, but his features seemed more than a bit familiar.
The chin, and yes, the blue eyes, they were so like… Kira gasped, even as she felt
the blood drain from her face.

“Darius, oh my… He—he looks like Papa,” she blurted.

“Indeed, though a bit older,” Darius drawled. “I suspect we’ve finally got a glimpse
of the Earl of Westland.”

Immediately, dread dug into Kira’s stomach. Would the man cut them? Would he degrade
their heritage for all the guests’ amusement? Kira closed her eyes tightly, wishing
desperately this night had never come to pass.

A moment later, an auburn-haired woman strode toward her corner of the room. Kira
had noticed the lady earlier, arriving with the man to whom Gavin currently spoke.
She was dressed every inch a lady
,
from the golden satinet of her lace-trimmed gown to the garland of roses twined in
her ringlets. But when the redhead stopped directly before her, Kira stared at her
in bemusement.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve met,” said the woman, a bright smile on her winsome
face.

Kira hesitated. The woman actually wanted to speak to her?

“I realize it’s very forward of me to introduce myself, but you look as if you could
use a friendly face. I’m Lady Madeline Taylor.”

Kira had never heard the name, but she had no doubt the smiling Lady Madeline had
heard of her. “I am Miss Kira Melbourne.”

A moment of surprise and speculation crossed her face. Then quickly she erased it.
“You are engaged to Mr. Howland, is that not so?”

“Yes.” Didn’t Lady Madeline mean to insult her, walk away, or at least frown?

Across the room, the uncle she had never met spoke most intently with Gavin’s companion,
who had taken up residence in a plush fringed chair of pale cream.

“Welcome to the family,” Lady Madeline said, ending her observation. At Kira’s puzzled
frown, the redhead said, “I am Gavin and James’s cousin.”

Surprise skittered through Kira. Family? She found the idea of some comfort since
the woman knew her identity and hadn’t run away. Kira sent the woman a hesitant smile.
Perhaps she might be something of an ally.

“Thank you.” Kira smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Beside her, Darius cleared his throat.

Kira grimaced. “Forgive my terrible manners. Crowds fluster me,” she apologized. “This
is my brother, Mr. Darius Melbourne.”

“A pleasure,” said Lady Madeline as Darius bowed. Without pause, the redhead turned
back to Kira. “So, we must soon have tea and you can tell me all about you
rself
.”

Kira liked the woman more with each sentence. “Thank you, Lady Madeline. I would be
delighted, though I fear there isn’t much to say, despite—
”
Gossip
…
No! She should not mention her scandal to her newest acquaintance. Why remind the
lady of all the reasons not to speak to her?

“Call me Maddie, please,” she said into the silence. “We’re to be family.” A smile
revealed a dimple in her left cheek, but as she glanced across the room at Gavin,
it faded, replaced by a frown. “I wonder why Gavin is scowling?”

A glance over her shoulder confirmed that, despite the fact the perfect English rose
had tethered herself to his arm, he was indeed frowning like the very devil. And looking
right at her.

Kira shrugged. “He scowls more often than he ought.”

“True.”

T
hough Kira knew her curiosity was dangerous, she
couldn’t hold her question in.
“The lady beside him, is she Lady Litchfield?”

“Indeed. Though I suspect we will soon call her the Duchess of Cropthorne.”

Maddie smiled, and Kira did her best to return the gesture. But her stomach felt slightly
queasy.

“The gentleman in the blue coat is Lord Westland. Oh, and that handsome rogue beside
Gavin is my husband, Mr. Brock Taylor. I shall introduce you to him later. He and
Gavin are famous friends. In fact, I’m surprised my cousin has not brought Brock over
to meet you already.”

Kira was not terribly surprised
,
but she was disappointed. Nor was she convinced that Mr. Taylor would wish to make
her acquaintance. Still, she nodded at her new friend.

“My sister is somewhat shy, Lady Madeline. What Kira means to say is that she would
be delighted to meet your husband.”

She shot her brother an irritated glare.

Maddie laughed. “Shy, are you? I can talk enough for two when need be, so we shall
get on just fine.” A frown gathered between her sleek auburn brows. She looked vexed.
“It is shocking the men have not come to us, so we must go to them.”

Maddie spun away as if she expected her to follow. Darius even gave her a little shove.

“Stop it!” she whispered. “Lord Westland stands beside Gavin and Mr. Taylor, and you
must know what will happen if we venture over there? Our own uncle will cut us. Everyone
will see.”

Suitably chastised, Darius leaned against the wall again.

However, Maddie seemed unaware of Kira’s predicament. “Come along. You can only feel
less timid when you have more acquaintances.”

Before she could protest, Maddie linked her arm through Kira’s and led her across
the room. Darius followed.

Gavin looked up at their approach. His scowl was unmistakable. Kira could not deny
that his reproof hurt. What reason had he to be angry with her? Were they not friends
now?

Or had she misunderstood his overtures?

Quickly, Maddie introduced Darius and her to Brock, who bowed gallantly. Kira murmured
something appropriate, though she could hardly remember what.

She only knew that her uncle’s gaze had sliced to her upon mention of her name and
had not left.

Maddie introduced them next to Lady Litchfield. Kira thought she might be grateful
for any excuse to look away from the earl. Gavin’s companion soon proved her wrong.

Lady Litchfield fixed her with a glacial glare. Around them, the room watched intently.
Kira felt the stare of every guest upon her. Still, she refused to close her eyes
and give in
to the roiling of her stomach, not when the superior snob looked on.

“You’re to wed our James?” the lady asked, looking down her nose at Kira.