Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,58

pain caused me to react rather than think.

"Jocelyn, it kills me to think of what you've gone through this past week. The ton can be cruel, more savage than wild beasts, and worse yet, none of it was deserved. You were never ruined. I was afraid that, especially after telling you the story of how the Viscount had ruined the Wingshire girl and your response of its lack of romance, that you'd doubt the sincerity of my affection if we were discovered in a similar situation." His words were whispered, meant for my ears only. "When I asked you to marry me, I didn't want it to be in the heat of passion, or because we were discovered, but because you wanted me. Only me. Not because you had no other choice," he confessed.

My anger receded from the red haze as I came to understand his actions. It made sense. I had said it had been unromantic for the Viscount to take the easy way out. Morgan's logic was clear, and his actions probably wouldn't have mattered as much if Arynna hadn't intervened.

It made sense. Oh, he had botched it up horribly, but I could see his perspective. Hadn't Amelia said as much earlier? Hadn't he confessed his affection before he'd kissed me in the moonlight that fateful night? Scary how one conversation of poorly chosen words can negate so many other affirmations. I was becoming all too aware of the power of a person's words.

"Please, Jocelyn, say something." I had been staring at the wall as my mind whirled, completely silent.

I blinked hard and turned to look at him. "It makes sense," I whispered finally.

"But?" he added after a moment, dread and resignation killing the light in his eyes.

"But, what can I do about it now?" I asked, hopeless. "What's done is done." Oh, how I'd wished he'd sweep me up in his arms, but I didn't see how my happy ending could happen. Everyone already believed Arynna's lie, and if Morgan married me now, well, it wouldn't look authentic. Wouldn't that be difficult for his family? I was still so confused.

"Oh, I think there's quite a bit one can do, actually," said the silky voice of Lord Heath. I had almost forgotten about his presence in the room. "But our plan of attack all depends on you, Miss Westin."

"Plan of attack?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. His words had certainly piqued my curiosity.

"Yes. First, Ashby here needs to ask you an important question, during which I will escort my fiancée out the door so she can give you some semblance of privacy. Although I won't be able to prevent her from listening through the door," he added with a grin.

Amelia glared at him and then came over to me, placing her gloved hand on my shoulder and making eye contact. "Sometimes love has to conquer in order to survive. But conquer it will, if given the opportunity." She squeezed my shoulder and left with Lord Heath, leaving me quite alone with Morgan.

Afraid to hope, to open myself up to further pain, my heart locked down. It must have been apparent on my face.

"Please, Jocelyn, don't do that." Morgan spoke softly, reaching up and tilting my chin up so I would look him in the eye. His fingers were warm; the heat seeped through my skin and melted the pain in my heart. In a sincere tone, he continued. "I know I do not deserve you. I've put you through the fire the past week. I would have been here sooner, but things took longer than I expected."

I opened my mouth to ask why he hadn't sent a letter, but he interrupted my attempt. "I knew I'd make it back before a note could reach you." He dropped his head lower to meet my eyes, diving into their depths like a starving man. "If I would have simply asked for your hand that night, you wouldn't have gotten hurt, but I wanted it to be romantic, something you could remember for years to come. So you would know how much I desperately, urgently, and greatly love you." He lifted his other hand and caressed my cheek, wiping the tears I didn't realize had fallen. After closing his eyes for a moment, he met my gaze once again. "Not a proposal that made you wonder if I simply asked you in a haze of lustful frenzy. You deserved — deserve more than that. So much more."

He leaned forward and