Living London (9 page)

"Even better," he responded.

With that, the performance started, and I was lost in the art. The only exposure to Shakespeare I'd experienced had been in high school and college lit. Oh, I had read Romeo and Juliet a few times, but seeing Shakespeare's work brought to life on the stage was mesmerizing. Kean was fantastic, and I found myself lost in the story. The dim lights and live music gave it a magical feel, almost as if I were part of the performance.

Occasionally I'd glance over to Lord Ashby. In the dim light I could only see shadows shift across the features of his face, but it was clear he was enjoying the performance as well. As the final act before the intermission finished, the lights grew brighter. People began to stand and move about, exiting the theater and conversing.

"So, Miss Westin, did you enjoy the performance?" Lord Ashby asked, diverting my attention from a lady bowing her head and tickling her husband's nose with an ostrich feather. Suppressing a laugh, I turned to face him.

"It was unlike anything I've ever experienced," I answered, belatedly realizing that I'd mostly likely been there before. To Lord Ashby's credit, he didn't comment on it, but his eyes did take on a teasing light.

"Kean was exceptional," he added as he looked to the stage. As I studied his profile, I noticed his nose was a bit crooked, and I wondered what had caused it.

He noticed my perusal, and I bit my lip and looked down, embarrassed to have been caught staring. When I looked up again, a wicked grin accented his features. "Don't worry, I shamelessly watched you while you were absorbed with the play. We're even." He grinned, and I lost all embarrassment.

"And here I thought you were as absorbed with the performance as I was!" I teased.

"Oh, I was. I just enjoyed a different performance than the one you saw."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You were far more entertaining than Kean, I must say."

"If you're trying to compliment me, sir, you're failing," I quipped with a smile.

"Ah, I must improve my skills, it seems. I shall endeavor to try harder in the future." His smile tilted up more on one side than the other, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

I nodded. "See that you do."

He glanced over my shoulder and asked me to join him for some air. Of course I agreed, and we walked out of the box and into the hall. It was much quieter than I had expected, Draperies hung from each box entrance and lined the walls to mute the noise.

"Would you like to get a closer look at the stage and orchestra?" he asked in a whisper that tingled in my ear.

"Of course! Can we do that?" My eyes went wide with excitement.

"Certainly. Follow me." He took me down the stairs and into the general entrance. The common people milled about, and I felt their stares as we passed. The separation of the classes was a severe line I was unaccustomed to. The gentry did not mix, and I felt apprehensive as Lord Ashby led me to the front of the theater.

"Why are they staring?" I whispered.

"It's not common for one of the quality to be down on the floor level. Many dowagers would consider it vulgar, but since it's the intermission, I believe we will be fine."

He didn't look concerned, so I put the worry from my mind and took in my surroundings. The orchestra pit was full of instruments, some abandoned as the player left for a short break. I turned around and gazed up at the boxes to get a taste of what it would be like from the actors' view. Large crystalline chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling, their brilliant lights accenting the rich colors. The acoustics caused the hum of voices to reverberate throughout the entire hall. It reminded me of
The Phantom of the Opera.

"Much different from here, don't you think?" Lord Ashby asked.

"Much." My reply was breathless as I continued to take in the splendor.

"I thought you would enjoy this perspective. Even though the boxes are by far more fashionable, you miss the allure and beauty of the theater in my opinion."

"I would have to agree with you, Lord Ashby." I tore my attention from my surroundings and focused on him. Even with the opulence surrounding us at that moment, his eyes were far more captivating, far more interesting than anything else I had seen. The voices of those around us faded as I lost myself in his deep blue gaze. The fullness of his lips was accented by a quick intake of his breath as he closed his eyes and then turned slightly away.

"I'll escort you back, Miss Westin." He spoke crisply and held his hand out for me to accept. I nodded and followed his lead. Under my glove, the heat from his body was easily noticed, along with the strength in his forearm beneath his jacket. Our gazes locked, and I swallowed compulsively at the smolder in his eyes as he watched me. Before I lost my nerve I asked a question, one I wanted answered from his perspective, not Libby or Mrs. Trimbleton's.

"Was there ever — more — between us?" I asked.
How could I have maintained my distance from him?

At my inquiry, he broke eye contact and began to lead me back up the aisle towards the main entrance. "I've often asked myself the very same question," he replied earnestly as he glanced at me.

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but…" I paused, not knowing how to articulate what I was feeling, or even if I should.

He laughed quietly, as if sensing my internal struggle. "Miss Westin, I promise here and now not to ever condemn you for speaking the truth."

"Thank you. I'll be sure to remind you of that should I ever offend you," I teased back, feeling more at ease.

"Pray continue." He nodded as we left the main hall and ascended the stairs to our box.

"Remember your promise." I glanced at him sideways. "If you wondered the very same thing, does that mean no? And if so, why?"

I bit my lip as I realized how forward I sounded. I took a quick breath to explain myself, but he stopped, and I turned to face him. His blue eyes were stormy, cloudy with indecision. He glanced about and pulled me into an alcove in the hallway.

"Miss Westin." His words were spoken softly. The theater dimmed as lights were extinguished in anticipation of the next act. In the pale light I saw his gaze drop to my lips as he leaned forward slightly. Breathing became difficult as I realized he was about to kiss me.

Slowly, with prolonged moments, he studied my face. The candlelight teased shadows across his strong jaw and slightly crooked nose. My eyes followed his, and I couldn't hold back a small gasp when his eyes flashed up to mine. Gone was the indecision, a smoldering desire in its place.

Tentatively he reached up and slid a gloved finger across my cheek before cupping my face in his palm. Closing my eyes, I leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and intimacy. When I opened my eyes again, I reached up with my own gloved hand and traced the shadow of his jaw line, feeling a shiver of desire course through me — desire that was echoed in his eyes.

His hand left my face and met with his other around my waist, drawing me closer into the circle of his arms. The close embrace led me to settle my hands behind his neck. His head descended further, and I closed my eyes in anticipation. Warm breath caressed my lips.

"Jocelyn?" Amelia's voice startled me from his warm embrace. My gaze found Lord Ashby's. He stepped back and grasped my hand, raising it to his lips. He kissed it — not the air above it, as was proper — his gaze never leaving mine. Shivering with delight, I smiled at the devilish grin that broke out on his face.

"Your hand will have to do for now." With a wink, he stepped back and offered his arm.

A few seconds later, Amelia came into view. Her scolding expression changed to one of excitement when she saw my blush. "The next act has begun." She stated the obvious, still watching my expression.

"Thank you," Lord Ashby replied, leading me into the box, a grinning Amelia following behind.

The rest of the performance passed in a blur as I only had attention for the man sitting next to me. Often I'd glance over at him and find him already watching me. With a smile, he'd return his attention to the stage. After the performance and the thunderous applause, he escorted me to my carriage.

"Tomorrow?" he asked as he helped me up.

"Morning," I replied, winking. My belly flipped at his rich laugh, which sent shivers up my back. His smile was genuine, but spiced with desire. I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

"Yes, Miss Westin, tomorrow morning." With a wave, he shut the carriage door, and I headed home.

Chapter Nine

"Miss? Wake up. We have to get you ready."

Libby's voice smashed my lovely dream into mirrored fragments as I tried to open my eyes.

"Miss, Lord Ashby will be here soon, and you're not even out of bed yet."

At the mention of his name I remembered our date, or whatever they called it during this era, for riding in the park. I hopped out of bed, then regretted my rash decision. The bedpost provided support till the world stopped spinning.

"My lady? Are you well?" Libby asked, concerned.

"Fine," I mumbled, my throat thick with sleep. As soon as I regained my balance I fixed my determined gaze on Libby. "What am I wearing?"

After I'd been dressed properly for a morning ride, I hurried through a quick breakfast and waited upstairs for my guest to arrive. I was so nervous. What should I say? All my old insecurities came flooding back, and I tried desperately to remember Nanna's voice.

"Love, you are special."There has never been and never will be anyone like you. You mustn't worry about being the same as others. Be who you were created to be. Be Jocelyn Westin, for there will never be another one. Laugh, dance, and don't be afraid. Never, never be afraid."

Her words comforted me as I remembered her voice in my head. She'd spoken those to me after my senior prom, when I hadn't been invited by a single boy. Not that I'd particularly liked anyone specific—small school and slim pickin's—but it would have been nice to be asked. And here I was about to go on a date with English perfection. I didn't want to blow my chances. Though as fear crept into my heart, I remembered something else she had said.

"
If you're afraid that someone won't like you when you're simply being yourself, don't change who you are. If they love you, they are wise. If they don't, they weren't meant to be your friend to begin with. You should never have to change who you are to find love. Real love is unconditional.

And that was what I wanted, the unconditional stuff. Was Lord Ashby my Mr. Unconditional? I had no idea, but I was going to find out.

"Lord Ashby is here, miss," Wains announced in his dry accent.

"Thank you, Wains. I'll be there momentarily."
And here we go…

Gripping the railing so I wouldn't slip and embarrass myself, I purposefully avoided looking at Lord Ashby till I was on level ground, knowing he would be a distraction. I was right. The blue of his eyes twinkled and sobered as he looked me over, not in the fashion of Lord Rake, but as if he were noticing the little details that set me apart. "Good morning, Miss Westin," he said as he offered his arm.

"Good morning, Lord Ashby," I returned as I took his arm.

We descended the stairs and left the house. Glad to be wearing my Spencer jacket in the cool London morning, I glanced up and wondered when it would start raining. If I had learned anything about London weather it was that if it wasn't raining, it would be soon. In truth, it was like Seattle, only smellier. A morning mist hovered above the grass, and the sun hid itself behind gray clouds.

Lord Ashby was quiet as he helped me into his curricle. Then, grabbing the reins, he set us in motion. After last night I found myself unsure, not knowing how to act. After all, he had almost kissed me, but somehow in the morning light, everything looked different.

We'd moved no more than a few feet forward before I felt raindrops begin splash against my skin. "Why must it always rain?" I groaned to myself, not meaning to say the words out loud.

Lord Ashby considered me with an amused grin. "We are in England, you know."

"Oh? Seems I had forgotten that," I joked.

"London, to be exact, just to alleviate any confusion."

"Noted. Thank you."

His face was lit up in an amused grin, giving me view of a dimple on his right cheek. Clearly he found the whole conversation wildly entertaining. "If you require further description we're in Hyde…"

I leaned over and knocked him with my shoulder. "You're making fun of me," I accused with a grin, thankful for the easy conversation.

"I help the lady, and she accuses me of mockery!" he protested jokingly.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. Merely stating the truth, sir. Would you dare disagree?"

"Never." He sobered, but the edges of his mouth threatened to turn up into a grin.

"I knew you were smart."

"Why, thank you." He nodded his head in acceptance of my compliment.

"So tell me, Lord Ashby, what does one talk about during a ride in Hyde Park? I won't pretend to have a clue as to what I'm to do."

"Honesty becomes you."

"I know," I replied with a saucy grin.

"So does humility, which you seem to have mastered."

"Hey!" I argued. "I'm proud of my humility, thank you kindly."

"I see."

"Be sure that you do," I teased.

He gave me a flirtatious smile before returning his attention to the road. "To answer your question, miss, as a gentleman, I would ask you about your hobbies, likes, dislikes, and family. You, in turn, would simper over my strength and ability to control my horseflesh. Commenting on my masculine ability to exceed in each sport I named."

"Sounds dreadfully dishonest."

"It is," he admitted with a chuckle.

"May I simply be honest, then?"

"I would greatly appreciate it."

"And you'll tell me if my questions are too personal?" I eyed him, making sure I wasn’t being too forward.

"As I stated last night," he paused and his gaze caressed my lips, causing them to tingle, "I promise not to be offended by your honesty, only to welcome it."