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Authors: Too Tempting to Touch
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haven’t seen each other for. . . oh . . . ten years or more.”
“Ten years! My goodness!”
“Isn’t it amazing? We just bumped into each other on the street.”
“After all this time?” she gushed. “How marvelous for both of you. I’m Miss Rebecca Burton,” she added, making the overture herself since it was apparent that Ellen couldn’t.
“A
Miss
Burton?” he inquired. “How is it that no lucky man has snatched you up?”
“One has.” She grinned and flashed a ring with a diamond the size of Ireland. “I’m in London to become officially engaged.”
“Really?”
This was information that Ellen hadn’t shared in the few letters she’d penned. In fact, she’d been particularly reticent about her post, but Miss Burton seemed acceptable enough.
“Perhaps you know my fiancé?” Miss Burton tentatively ventured.
The question finally prodded Ellen to speak. “James, she’s betrothed to Alex Marshall.”
It was a shock to hear Stanton’s name uttered aloud, and he was proud at how calm he acted. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, the primary one being that he couldn’t believe Ellen would take a job from such people. No wonder she hadn’t mentioned it!
As to Miss Burton’s devoted fiancé, James had never discovered which of the spoiled, vain aristocrats had actually stolen the ring that had secured his desperatefuture, but Alex Marshall had been in attendance, and he was on the list of those from whom James would extract retribution.
“Congratulations,” he offered to Miss Burton. “He’s incredibly fortunate.”
“You’re very kind,” she responded.
She smiled, dimples creasing her cheeks. It charged the air and lit up the space around him, and a wicked notion occurred to him, one that was cruel and wrong, and thus exactly the sort upon which he thrived.
Stanton might think he was about to marry Rebecca Burton, but now that James had crossed her path, the chances of it ever happening were very remote.
“I’d been apprised of the engagement,” James fibbed, “but not about the loveliness of the bride-to-be.”
She laughed. “You are a terrible flirt, Mr. Duncan.”
“When confronted with such splendor,” he gallantly declared, “I can’t help myself.”
“It sounds as if you know Lord Stanton,” she probed.
“We’ve been acquainted for years.”
The answer was literally true, if not entirely correct, and was meant to give the impression that James ran in her social circle, that he frequented the types of places where Stanton might show his smug face. The fabrication would make it so much simpler to arrange a second meeting.
“We should be going,” Ellen interjected, looking grim. With a decade having elapsed, James was nearly a stranger, and she couldn’t be certain what he intended.
“How long will you be in London?” he asked his sister.
“Through the summer,” she stated, “but after that, I can’t predict what my plans will be.”
Miss Burton jumped in. “You’ll stay with us till the wedding, won’t you? You can’t leave before then. I’d miss you too much.”
“Through the summer,” Ellen repeated, “then we’ll see how events play out.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he told Ellen, but the same applied to Miss Burton.
“I’d like that,” Ellen said.
“Good day, Miss Burton, Miss Drake.”
He bowed and departed, sliding around Miss Burton and pretending to be jostled against her as he went. The crowd swallowed him up, but as he strolled away she exclaimed, “Oh, my purse! Where could it have gone?”
He kept walking.
5
Miss Drake had stopped following him. Why?
Wherever Alex went, he kept peeking over his shoulder, expecting to espy her—and her damnable deck of cards—but she was nowhere to be found, and her vanishing nagged at him.
He sneaked down the dark hall toward her room, unable to halt the forward progress of his feet. What bizarre whim was urging him on? When she opened her door, what would
“Ten years! My goodness!”
“Isn’t it amazing? We just bumped into each other on the street.”
“After all this time?” she gushed. “How marvelous for both of you. I’m Miss Rebecca Burton,” she added, making the overture herself since it was apparent that Ellen couldn’t.
“A
Miss
Burton?” he inquired. “How is it that no lucky man has snatched you up?”
“One has.” She grinned and flashed a ring with a diamond the size of Ireland. “I’m in London to become officially engaged.”
“Really?”
This was information that Ellen hadn’t shared in the few letters she’d penned. In fact, she’d been particularly reticent about her post, but Miss Burton seemed acceptable enough.
“Perhaps you know my fiancé?” Miss Burton tentatively ventured.
The question finally prodded Ellen to speak. “James, she’s betrothed to Alex Marshall.”
It was a shock to hear Stanton’s name uttered aloud, and he was proud at how calm he acted. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, the primary one being that he couldn’t believe Ellen would take a job from such people. No wonder she hadn’t mentioned it!
As to Miss Burton’s devoted fiancé, James had never discovered which of the spoiled, vain aristocrats had actually stolen the ring that had secured his desperatefuture, but Alex Marshall had been in attendance, and he was on the list of those from whom James would extract retribution.
“Congratulations,” he offered to Miss Burton. “He’s incredibly fortunate.”
“You’re very kind,” she responded.
She smiled, dimples creasing her cheeks. It charged the air and lit up the space around him, and a wicked notion occurred to him, one that was cruel and wrong, and thus exactly the sort upon which he thrived.
Stanton might think he was about to marry Rebecca Burton, but now that James had crossed her path, the chances of it ever happening were very remote.
“I’d been apprised of the engagement,” James fibbed, “but not about the loveliness of the bride-to-be.”
She laughed. “You are a terrible flirt, Mr. Duncan.”
“When confronted with such splendor,” he gallantly declared, “I can’t help myself.”
“It sounds as if you know Lord Stanton,” she probed.
“We’ve been acquainted for years.”
The answer was literally true, if not entirely correct, and was meant to give the impression that James ran in her social circle, that he frequented the types of places where Stanton might show his smug face. The fabrication would make it so much simpler to arrange a second meeting.
“We should be going,” Ellen interjected, looking grim. With a decade having elapsed, James was nearly a stranger, and she couldn’t be certain what he intended.
“How long will you be in London?” he asked his sister.
“Through the summer,” she stated, “but after that, I can’t predict what my plans will be.”
Miss Burton jumped in. “You’ll stay with us till the wedding, won’t you? You can’t leave before then. I’d miss you too much.”
“Through the summer,” Ellen repeated, “then we’ll see how events play out.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he told Ellen, but the same applied to Miss Burton.
“I’d like that,” Ellen said.
“Good day, Miss Burton, Miss Drake.”
He bowed and departed, sliding around Miss Burton and pretending to be jostled against her as he went. The crowd swallowed him up, but as he strolled away she exclaimed, “Oh, my purse! Where could it have gone?”
He kept walking.
5
Miss Drake had stopped following him. Why?
Wherever Alex went, he kept peeking over his shoulder, expecting to espy her—and her damnable deck of cards—but she was nowhere to be found, and her vanishing nagged at him.
He sneaked down the dark hall toward her room, unable to halt the forward progress of his feet. What bizarre whim was urging him on? When she opened her door, what would
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