Ada mumbled something about the dangers of dancing under the full moon.

Miles turned to face Miss Lovell, meant to bow but captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Then allow me to convey my heartfelt thanks for your assistance today.” He drank in the nervous tremble of her lips. The need to kiss her, to devour her innocent mouth, took hold.

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She inhaled deeply. “It was the least I could do after the terrible names I called you these last two years.”

Miles found her honesty as beguiling as her charming countenance.

Aware of Ada staring open-mouthed at her mistress, Miles straightened and reluctantly released Miss Lovell’s hand. “Then I pray you’ve had a change of heart, Miss Lovell. I pray you find I am not the devil of your nightmares.” But the hero of your dreams, he added silently.

Her soft gaze drifted over his face, and he could almost feel its gentle caress. “Today, you have proved yourself a gentleman, my lord.”

Miles stepped forward, leant closer and whispered, “Where you’re concerned, you might find I am still a bit of a devil.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said, thrusting her hands more firmly into her gloves as she struggled to look him in the eye. “Good day, my lord. Perhaps we might see you again before your trip to London.”

Miles moistened his lips. “You can be certain of it.”

Chapter Eight

Trying to reach her bedchamber without alerting Arabella proved impossible with Ada in tow. The maid slipped on the marble floor in the hall and went crashing into the console table. Fooled into celebrating her success when they reached the stairs, Lydia almost jumped out of her skin when Arabella pounced.

“That was an extremely long walk.” Arabella strode towards them, patting down the sides of her hair as if the mere sight of Lydia ruffled the crow’s feathers. “You’ve been gone for four hours.”

Ada swayed at Lydia’s side. Cross words made the girl uneasy—the consequence of a violent father who met his end in a drunken brawl. “Could you speak to Mrs Sanders, Ada, and tell her I shall take luncheon in my room?”

“Yes, Miss Lovell.” The maid curtsied and tottered off, looking relieved to have escaped Arabella’s evil clutches.

“Lord Randall went to find you. There is something important he wishes to say. Something that can no longer wait.” Arabella glared. “Well, where on earth have you been?”

Something important? Heavens above, surely the dandy didn’t mean to offer marriage?

“I went to visit Lord Greystone’s tenants.” Truth was the best policy. If Lord Randall had a mind to make a declaration, Lydia had to divert him from his goal. “Now his lordship has returned, work can begin on the cottages.”

Arabella stared down her nose. “How many times must I tell you to stop prying into other people’s affairs? Greystone is a man of uncontrollable appetites. The rogue is as wild as his father by all accounts.”

Strange tingles burst to life in Lydia’s stomach. Lord Greystone did have a wild, untamed air about him. He had looked at her as if she were his next meal and yet she’d been flattered not frightened.

“And what do you think Greystone would say if he caught you snooping about his estate?” Arabella continued. “Trespassing where you’re not wanted.”

“Lord Greystone asked me to accompany him when he visited the properties.” Lydia suppressed a chuckle for she enjoyed nothing more than watching Arabella stumble.

She’d planned to keep her meeting with Greystone a secret but had grown tired of tiptoeing about. For heaven’s sake, in a few weeks she could do as she damn well pleased. So why couldn’t Arabella leave her be?

“You met with Lord Greystone!” Arabella gasped. “Greystone! Have you lost your mind? Randall won’t marry you if he discovers you’ve been running about the countryside like the town trollop.”

“Good!”

The word hit Arabella like a sharp slap. She jerked her head back. “You ungrateful wretch. Your brother has done everything in his power to ensure you make a good match, and you’re willing to throw it all away on a … on a whim.”

“You said I was to focus on finding a husband. Lord Greystone is unmarried and has both title and fortune.” Lydia said it merely to prove a point though couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to marry a man so virile.

“Greystone? Greystone!” Anger flared in Arabella’s eyes—anger accompanied by a tiny flash of fear. “A man like that does not marry a wallflower. Look at you. Greystone has lived abroad for years. He’s used to exotic beauties, not backwater oddities.”

Never having ventured further afield than London, Lydia had to admit she was sorely lacking when it came to worldly experience. She would never be exciting enough for a man like Greystone. Still, it didn’t hurt to tease Arabella.

“I happen to believe Lord Greystone holds me in high esteem,” Lydia said with an air of hauteur so unlike her. It was not a total lie. He had made flirtatious comments. And when he touched her … oh, the whole world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Tags: Adele Clee Avenging Lords Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net