Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,35

knowing smile.

"He's been the perfect gentleman." She spoke with a grin, seemingly astonished.

"You know, they always say that rakes make the best husbands," I whispered. Didn't they always say that in the books?

Amelia rolled her eyes. "No, rakes do not make the best husbands. Reformed rakes do," she added, blushing slightly. Gone was the ice princess, and I sincerely hoped that Lord Rake knew what he was doing. If he hurt her, I'd — well, what did one do as revenge in the Regency era? I'd have to ask Libby or Mrs. Trimbleton later.

"So your virtue hasn't been violated, I take it?"

"Not once." She giggled.

"Good. I'd hate you to lose your innocence in a crowded ballroom."

"Jocelyn! You cannot say such things!"

What did I do wrong? "Pardon me," I apologized immediately. I'd have to ask Libby about that too.

After a scolding glare, her eyes took on an impish look. "If anyone is to worry about her innocence, I believe it's you."

"Me?"

She nodded behind me, making me turn around and meet a pair of clear blue eyes that watched me from across the room. Morgan had been cornered by Arynna, but probably hadn't heard a word she had said. Following his gaze, she turned and saw me. I spun around, but didn't miss the icy glare she sent in my direction. No new friend made there.

"So?" Amelia asked, breaking me from my musing.

"Hmm?"

Her eyebrows lifted, and she leaned forward, waiting for me to catch on. I glanced around the ballroom. Too many ears could overhear the words I wanted to share with my friend. "Come see me tomorrow and you'll find out."

"You're horrible! I can't believe you won't tell me," she whined.

"I'll tell you, you'll just have to wait a little while."

"Why? Unless…" Her eyes widened. She looked at Morgan and then back to me again, a smile showing most of her straight teeth.

"Tomorrow." She nodded.

"Tomorrow."

Chapter Eleven

Amelia came for tea the next afternoon. She was all grace and poise until the door shut, and then she pounced like a cat with a mouse. "He kissed you," she stated.

"Yes." Wanting to draw out the moment of anticipation a little further, I left it at that and waited for her to burst.

"Yes? That's all you can say? Yes?" Her exasperation was evident in her voice, and she stood up.

"Actually, I kissed him first."

She dropped into the chair, staring at me as if I had spoken in Swahili. "I thought you said he kissed you."

"He did, after I kissed him."

"So, what, please tell me what was it like. Where did he kiss you?"

"On the lips," I remarked smartly, only to have Amelia swat at me with her dainty gloved hand.

"Horrible! I know he kissed you on the lips. When, where? At the ball?"

I went on to explain the whole ordeal with Lord Haymore and then about how Morgan found me in the darkened hallway. It sounded so romantic when I spoke about it. I could hear the storyline forming in my head. By the end of the conversation, Amelia admitted to knowing something had happened when Reg had danced a waltz with me.

"Why would that be so odd?" I asked, confused.

"Because waltzing can be used to… indicate one's feelings or attachment."

"Ah, and Reg avoids all of those things, so his dancing with me could be misunderstood." I got it. I owed Reg big time. He had totally taken one for the team. "I'll remember to thank him."

"Oh, he'll simply be thrilled that Lord Ashby finally did something."

"He said as much when we were dancing."

After Amelia left I thought about her, Reg, Libby, Morgan and even Mrs. Trimbleton. Back home I'd had no one left. High school had been slow torture, and by the time I had finished and begun college, Nanna had started having her spells. Between taking care of her and finishing my degree, I'd had no time for friends, a boyfriend, or anyone. The thought of waking up in my own time was becoming less and less alluring. Nothing waited for me there. In London I had friends, and Nanna's promise of finding love.

Maybe Nanna had known what she was doing. I certainly hoped so. I had already had my heart broken once when she died. I didn't need it broken again.

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I really wanted to kiss him again. Hey, I’d settle for just being around him at this point! But how did a girl go about this in Regency times? It wasn't as if I could text him or check his social media