To Bed a Beauty (Courtship Wars 2)
“Ah, I hoped I would find you at home, Miss Loring.”
Roslyn returned his charming smile as she looked up at him. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my lord?”
“I’ve come to personally deliver an invitation from my grandmother. She is holding a rout party next week and specifically charged me with persuading you to come.”
When Haviland held out an embossed card, Roslyn removed her gardening gloves in order to take it.
“Grandmother would be honored if Arden attended as well,” he added as Roslyn perused the invitation.
“I am not certain what his grace’s plans are, so I cannot vouch for him, but I would be pleased to come.”
“Good, then.” Haviland hesitated. “I confess I was surprised to hear of your betrothal to Arden. I didn’t expect it, given his avowed distaste for matrimony.”
Roslyn felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “I know. It was rather…sudden.”
“I should like to offer my felicitations, even though I regret that I was so tardy in courting you myself.”
Flustered by Haviland’s intimation that he’d wanted to court her, Roslyn reflexively clenched her fingers…which caused her to drop the card of invitation and one of her gloves.
They both bent down at the same time to retrieve the errant
items and wound up bumping their heads together.
Wincing, Roslyn uttered a breathless laugh and clutched her forehead as she straightened, while Haviland muttered a low curse. “Blast it, did I hurt you?”
Roslyn shook her head, still laughing. “No, not at all.”
“Let me see.” He pulled her hand away so he could inspect the damage he’d inflicted on her forehead.
“Truly, my lord, I am perfectly fine.”
“I cannot say the same. I’m abashed at my clumsiness.”
“You weren’t to blame. I was the clumsy one.”
His rough chuckle was warm with rueful humor. “You are being kind, Miss Loring. I know my limitations well enough. I would do better against a French cavalry charge. I’m out of my element when it comes to dealing with beautiful women.”
He smiled ruefully down at her, and Roslyn felt her laughter fade. And when he reached up to brush a tendril away from her face, she froze.
“Forgive me, please?” he said warmly.
Before she could gather her wits to reply, an icy voice cut across the garden. “How cozy.”
Giving a start, Roslyn glanced over her shoulder to see Drew poised on the terrace steps, staring down at them.
Managing a fleeting smile, she stepped back to set herself apart from Lord Haviland. “Drew…I did not expect you to call this afternoon.”
“Obviously not. Otherwise you would never have let me interrupt such a charming scene.”
Her eyes widened at his savage tone. He had evidently misconstrued an innocent situation, but she couldn’t think of what to say in order to clear up his misunderstanding. He was reacting out of male possessiveness, Roslyn was certain. He couldn’t possibly be jealous; his emotions weren’t engaged strongly enough to warrant jealousy.
Yet the silence became thick and palpable as Drew descended the steps and moved to stand before the earl. “She is betrothed to me, Haviland.”
“So I hear,” his lordship responded in a much milder tone. “But you can acquit me of poaching on your turf, your grace.”
“Can I?”
Haviland raised a dark eyebrow. “I have said so, haven’t I?”