Tags:
Regency,
London,
Lord,
regency england,
scandal,
lord will,
season,
flirtation,
sophie,
secret passion,
passionate endeavor
only enough wits about him to
gather her up in his arms, walk knee-deep into the sea and abruptly
end the lesson by dropping them both into the icy water. He didn't
once question why he'd refrained from continuing the seduction, the
answer to all his problems.
Sophie was mortified. She sat listening to
the ranting of her maid who peeled off her drenched and nearly
ruined sandy garments. Sophie never felt closer to tears than at
that moment.
She'd humiliated herself to a degree of new
heights. Lord William had been so disgusted by her forward behavior
that he'd had to cool her ardor by dunking her in the sea. And
while her head had been swirling with unleashed emotions, he'd
voiced worries about the effects of salt water on boots.
He'd felt nothing when they'd kissed, while
she'd been lost in a torrent of sensations. He'd only laughed and
said salt water was good for the joints at least and then he'd
abruptly halted the lesson.
Yet he'd refused to accept her plea to end
the lessons altogether. He'd said they'd both made remarkable
progress, and that it was only fair she give him his lesson at the
earliest possible convenience.
Sophie shook her head. At least he'd granted
her privacy by turning his head when she'd left the water to
negotiate the climb back to Villa Belza. And at least he'd given
her enough backbone to refuse to allow the medieval corset to ever
grace her body again. But she'd lost much in the bargain… her
sanity.
When she left London she'd thought her
humiliation absolute. Sophie closed her eyes. That wasn't so.
Complete mortification required falling in love with a gentleman
who could never ever return a measure of her affection.
She knew why he affected her thusly. He
possessed more charm than a snake, more beauty than any gentleman
or lady had a right to and the most potent ingredient of all—the
ability to make her laugh, something no one had accomplished in a
long time.
"I must offer you some advice," Karine said,
shaking her head, "for you've proved you've not a clue of how to go
on."
Sophie roused herself from her reverie.
Karine's advice was usually good once the barbs were removed.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You must beware of that gentleman."
"What gentleman?"
The maid made a sound of disgust. "The one
you're thinking of right now. The one every female within a hundred
miles dreams of. Lord William"— she cackled—"was described in
France as something of a—well, something wild and exciting."
"I don't know what you are talking about,
Karine."
" Baf, alors ," she replied, shrugging
her shoulders. "You can't fool me, you know. And really there's no
need. You have my loyalty." Her maid smiled and resumed her task of
wringing the wet garments in the basin. "Why, I've even lied for
you. I told the under-footman to bring you a bath because you'd
tripped and fallen into the edges of the water. The imbecile
believed every word."
"What was he known as in France?"
Karine arched a brow. " Le loup —the
wolf. And his elder brother, Viscount Gaston, was le
renard the fox. Some said it was because of their questionable
loyalties to Napoleon, others said it was for their amorous
conquests." Karine sighed and a dreamy look infused her face. "I
can vouch for the appeal of the elder. I had personal experience
with that divine gentleman when I was under the employ of a very
stupid—uh—a Lady Susan. And my guess is Lord Will is equally
devastating in private, if not more so." The petite maid licked her
lips and looked at the ceiling, lost in apparent wicked
thoughts.
"Why do you say this?"
"Ah, well, the fox, he is a social, cunning
creature, is he not? The wolf, on the other hand, is a dangerous
loner who runs in packs only when it suits him. And there is a
certain attraction to a gentleman like that."
"Karine, I know you mean well, but, frankly I
don't think you know Lord William at all. Oh, he might have taken
part in the war between England and France. There are many who did.
But
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