Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,20

a clean slate as far as names, but she's still our Jocelyn… don't worry."

"I'm Reginald Whitestone. One of your favorite people in the world, aside from Amelia, of course."

"It's nice to meet you?"

He looked at me questioningly. "Excuse me?"

All I could do was wonder why his hair was coiffed in a style strangely similar to my own and sparkling with jewels.

Wow. I knew they had dandies and fops, but I had no idea they were this… extravagant.

"Don't let the costume fool you, Jocelyn. He's running scared. It's his way of avoiding the matchmaking mamas wanting his money added onto their family tree. But that's our little secret." She eyed me, making sure I knew to keep my mouth shut. I nodded.

"You try being lured into compromising situations by scheming debutantes, and you'd be doing the same thing, I'd wager." He lowered his voice so that it sounded normally masculine, and I was impressed with how soothing it was in contrast to the shrillness of his falsetto.

"Ladies don't wager," Amelia interjected, scolding Reg.

"Apologies," Reg said, though he appeared to be anything but repentant. "Regardless, that is why I act the way I do, along with wearing these ridiculous clothes. The same reason that Amelia—" He spoke a bit louder, including her in the conversation. "—tends to turn into the ice queen when around fortune hunters, and you—" He poked me in the arm. "Are the unconventional heiress who keeps to herself. We all are protecting ourselves one way or another." With a self-satisfied grin, he turned his attention to discussing the décor of the ball.

The orchestra began a waltz. My hands became clammy within their gloves. "What's his name?" I whispered furiously as I saw my partner-to-be head in my direction.

"Who?" Reg asked, searching for my target.

"Lord Rake over there. What's his name?"

"Ah, he's Devon Hillshire, Earl of Heath. You'll call him Lord Heath." His words trailed off as the man in question approached our corner.

"I believe I am the recipient of this waltz." Lord Heath held out his white-gloved hand, never blinking as his eyes held mine captive.

Just breathe, I told myself again. He danced effortlessly, holding me in the most proper way, but I noticed his eyes had trouble staying on me. They kept drifting — toward Amelia, if my guess was correct.

"Why didn't you ask her to dance?" I asked, keeping my honest streak strong.

"Whom?" he asked, confused by my abrupt question.

"Amelia."

His eyes widened as if he searched my face for sarcasm or something of the like. For a moment I thought he'd level with me, but in a split second his demeanor changed back into Lord Rake and the charm poured out in a flood. "Why would I dance with Miss Stockingham when I could dance with you, Miss Westin? Or may I call you, Jocelyn?"

Ok, even as time warped as I was, I knew the whole first name bit was a big no-no. "No, you may address me as Miss Westin. And I think you know what I'm talking about," I challenged, wondering if I was pushing him too far.

He paused for a moment, indecision warring with hope on his face. "Miss Stockingham would refuse me." His words were spoken softly, clearly the first authentic words I'd heard him speak.

"Why?"

"On principle. After all, I am Lord Heath, and my reputation precedes me." He winked, and I wondered which part of him was the act, the rake or the one who spoke the soft, authentic words.

"Perhaps you should be braver." Nothing like challenging a man's pride.

"Braver, you say." His eyes hardened. A shiver of fear tickled my spine but quickly left as he grinned at me. "You are a wise woman, Miss Westin. I'll remember that."

With that, the song ended, and he escorted me back to Amelia's side. "Miss Stockingham? Please honor me with the next dance?"

His eyes never left hers, and I wondered what she would say. The silence was awkward at best. I almost nudged her so she'd break the silence and put the man out of his misery.

"Yes, of course." Her words were cold, contrasting her acceptance. Was there more to the story than met the eye?

I was so focused on watching Amelia and Lord Rake dance that I didn't hear anyone approach till the last second. "Miss Westin?"

I turned and saw Lord Ashby, all cleaned up and giving Lord Rake a run for his money. For some reason the darkness of his suit made him appear more dangerous than the boy next door.