Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,43

were heartfelt, and I could have kissed my old friend if it wouldn't have scandalized everyone.

"Not to worry." He nodded. "A pleasure to be of service. I haven't liked Haymore since we were at Eton together, more years ago than I dare mention. He was an idiot then, and he's only gotten worse with age." He grinned, and more of my tension left.

Morgan was waiting for me when the dance ended, and he offered a sincere apology for not being there to defend me when Haymore had "accosted" me. He also offered Dannberry a sincere thank you. "I would have been there, but I was… er, waylaid." He appeared exasperated.

"What happened? Spill lemonade on a debutante?" I teased.

"Egads, no, I'm not that clumsy, but your confidence in me is overwhelming." He sent me a sarcastic smile before continuing. "Miss Windton cornered me, and apart from physically moving her out of my way, I had no mode of escape."

"Miss Windton?" I glanced around, trying to find whom he was referring to. I still hadn't learned everyone's name, or I only would remember part of it. First names stuck easier.

He clarified, "Yes, Miss Arynna Windton."

"Her?"

"Er, yes."

"Well, well, she's been busy tonight," I remarked, not caring if I sounded like a petty, jealous female. I already wanted to strangle her, along with Lord Rake, but her flirting with Morgan — my Morgan — was the cherry on top.

"I take it you are not friends with Miss Windton?" he asked, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.

"No, we are not friends, as you put it." Nanna's rule, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, ran through my head, and I shut my mouth not a moment too soon.

"Jocelyn! How are you?" said a syrupy voice from behind me. Glancing first at Morgan, who appeared concerned, I rearranged my face into a coolly polite expression. "Arynna." I tried to keep my voice level, but judging by Morgan's reaction I failed miserably.

"Lovely to see you," she simpered as she walked over and stood too close to Morgan. "We were just talking about you, weren't we, Lord Ashby?" She gazed up with adoring eyes, and I wanted to poke them out. Fake.

"Er, yes, we were," Morgan replied through a barely restrained chuckle.

"I was telling Miss Windton—" He removed himself with grace from her side and came around to stand next to me. "—about how we had a lovely stroll in the park today. Miss Windton didn't believe me since it had rained almost all day."

"Oh, pish and tosh, I said no such thing." She leaned forward. "I only stated that it would be disappointing to have a walk in the park with such a dashing gentleman cut short by the rain."

"Forgive me." He nodded in her direction, perfectly polite. "And I was simply affirming to her that we did not mind the rain." His eyes twinkled, and the anger slipped away and was replaced with a warm joy at the inside information we shared.

A smile spread across my lips, yet I forced my features into an innocent expression. "Of course, a little rain never hurt anyone. Although I did ruin a bonnet." I couldn't help but grin as I heard Morgan cough, his expression both amused and aroused in remembering just how "ruined" the bonnet had become.

Arynna cast a suspicious glance in his direction, clearly not understanding our innuendos. "Yes, well."

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you soon." I spoke quickly, not wanting to give her an opportunity for further questioning. I was done being nice. With that, I nodded and walked away. Morgan followed behind me shortly, escorting me to one of the rooms adjacent to the grand ballroom.

"I think I'm ready to leave," I stated, tired and not wanting to converse with a very determined Lord Rake who had spotted me.

"I'll get your carriage," Morgan promised and left.

I turned away from Lord Heath's approach. I doubted I'd avert the conversation, but I was so going to try.

"Miss Westin," came the all too familiar voice.

"Lord Rake," I responded without apology.

He smiled, fitting the name perfectly. "I'll assume you meant to compliment me, so I'll take it as such." He bowed his head as his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle.

"You would," I said as I turned back toward the dance floor.

"You wound me, Miss Westin. What have I done to offend you so?" His feigned sincerity did nothing to dull my anger.

"I have all faith you will survive my verbal assault. And you need