Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,40

somehow still felt warm from Morgan's hands. Feeling exceptionally cheerful, I twirled around the room and found an amused Libby watching me from the doorway.

"Lord Ashby?" she asked with a knowing look.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I stuck my nose in the air with a look of haughty defiance.

Libby burst out laughing. "Oh, forgive me, miss, it's just… well, you don't pull that look very well, especially when wet."

"Oh, well, yes," I admitted, casting her a grin.

"Let's get you out of your damp clothes before you catch your death."

After a bath, a hot meal, and an hour of waiting by the fire for my hair to dry, I began to miss electricity and its many benefits anew, but not nearly as much as I would have thought. Everything took so much longer, but life moved slower. In my own time, it appeared that we traded. Though things took less time, our lives were more rushed and hurried. Like electricity, I missed my smartphone and its internet access whenever I had a question. But the idea of asking a person rather than computer was a whole different aesthetic. My hair dryer could have dried my hair in ten minutes, but instead I was sitting by a warm fire with a good book, good tea, and light conversation with Libby.

As nice as technology was, relationships with people had been overwhelmingly more helpful and comforting. And rather than simply trying to get each day right and fumble my way through the moment, I took a step back and realized I didn't want to go back. Here in this time I had friends, people who cared, and Morgan. In such a short time, I developed more roots than I'd had back home. It was a sobering thought but also comforting. London was beginning to feel like home.

Chapter Twelve

"Jocelyn!" Amelia floated over to me as quickly as was proper.

"Amelia! I was looking for you," I gushed as I gave her a quick hug.

"Good. We need to talk."

Her eyes brooked no argument, and I was concerned as I followed her to a deserted balcony overlooking the main ballroom of Almack's. I still couldn't believe I was here. When I'd received the voucher I'd immediately pressed it between the pages of my favorite book, wanting to keep the precious paper safe. Almack's!

As we entered the high perch, I viewed the sea of people milling about — some dancing, some heading to a game room to play cards. The sound of music and voices echoed through the richly decorated hall. "So, what's up?" I asked, immediately chastising myself for my slip up. Amelia gave me an odd look before I corrected myself. "I'm sorry. I meant to say, what is the problem?"

She eyed me with thin patience and friendly tolerance as she began to tell me her dilemma. "As you know, Lord Heath asked me to the ball the other night, and well… he asked me to take a ride with him in the park. We did and, to shorten the story, without any details…" Her voice dropped to a murmur as my eyes widened. I began to protest, but she silenced me with a pointed look around the room.

Ooooh, when she does tell me, it will be worth the wait. "Yes?"

"Well, let's just say he made his intentions clear." She cleared her throat daintily. "And now I find myself unsure." Her expression had gone fearful.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Do you remember what you said about rakes being the best husbands?"

"Yes, and you corrected me, saying that reformed rakes made the best husbands."

She looked up at me with a sincere expression. "How does one know if the rake is reformed?"

Good question. In all the books I'd read, it was simply understood because I could read the man's perspective, see into his head or heart. But it wasn't like that in real life. Amelia only had his actions and words to go by. What would she do if the rake in question was simply acting? Trust her heart? What if her heart wasn't the one lying?

"I don't know," I replied.

"Neither do I," she said in a miserable tone. "I want to believe him, but what if I'm wrong?"

She would be heartbroken. Lord Heath had captivated her from the start, and as much as she tried to fight it, she'd never been able to move past it. If he were simply playing with her emotions, the damage would be devastating. Honestly, I didn't know what to do or