He’d arrived back at the cottage that the Moorish family had graciously allowed them to stay in and found both of his friends already retired for the evening.
Which had been just as well. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he hadn’t felt like drinking or carousing. Rather, he’d gone to bed and lay awake wondering if Adrianna had recovered. Over and over he’d pictured the feel of her against his body, her tantalizing scent. Christ, he’d gotten up out of bed and found his jacket, pulling the cloth to his nose. Sure enough, the scent of violets had filled his nostrils. He’d returned to the bed, jacket in hand. Then he realized that he was acting like a lovesick schoolboy. He hadn’t behaved like this since Miranda.
His gut clenched as he’d tossed the jacket aside. Miranda had been a lovely blonde too. Unlike Adrianna, she’d been a model of sweet decorum, always behaving exactly as a lady should. He’d fallen hard for her angelic façade and her wholesome demeanor, and he’d courted her relentlessly. And she’d returned his affection, even allowing him liberties that she’d given no man before him. Which had convinced him that she did so because they had a possible future together.
His older brother, the current earl, had thrown a large soiree with the intention of finding a bride. With their father’s death, he’d taken the title and was intent upon continuing the family line with an heir.
Luke had invited Miranda and her family with the intent of also finding a bride. He’d purchased a ring and planned a proposal in the garden at exactly midnight. He’d even convinced his brother to buy fireworks and light them off at midnight as part of the party.
He’d danced with Miranda, holding her in his arms and whispering to meet him in the garden. She’d pressed close to him, and whispered back that he was such a rake, pulling her out for all these illicit meetings. He’d laughed in her ear and promised her he was only her rake. No one else’s.
At quarter to midnight, he’d made his way to the appointed spot, waiting for his love. She hadn’t come. At first, he’d thought she’d lost her way and looked for her. When he couldn’t find her, he’d circled closer to the house just as the first fireworks started to launch. As they exploded, lighting the veranda below, he saw the clear vision of Miranda tucked on his brother’s arm as he leaned down and spoke in her ear.
Miranda had been a perfect lady and perfect ladies married titled gentleman, not the spares.
Miranda should have taught him to never allow a woman past his defenses again but as he’d lain in bed, he’d stared at his now-crumpled jacket on the floor. Thank goodness he was leaving tomorrow, because Miss Adrianna Moorish had begun to do just that. She’d penetrated the thick walls he’d built around his emotions. Frightening, considering he’d only known her for a day.
He’d finally managed a few hours of sleep and then woke early to walk along the shore of Seabridge Gate. The sun sparkled on the water, the grass looking fresh and clean with dew. Last night what he thought had been disgustingly sweet, this morning looked fresh and clean. Wholesome in a way that quieted his restless soul.
By the time he’d returned to the cottage, both Dashlane and Craven were up and dressed. “Shall we go to the inn for breakfast?” he asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
Craven nodded his dark head, his gaze unreadable as always. “Did you secure passage?”
“I did,” he said, his gut clenching. The thought of going to Balstead’s suddenly unappealing.
Craven frowned. “I’ve decided not to join you.”
He raised a brow but didn’t have time to answer as Dashlane spoke next. “I’m not going either.”
Both his brows went up. “May I ask why?”
Dashlane shrugged. “We’re already ridiculously late. All the good ladies will be taken.”
Craven crossed his arms. “I just don’t want to go anymore.” He frowned. “I’m not certain I ever did.”
Craven was a man of few words but of strong convictions. “Of course,” he answered, his own mouth turning down. “I’ll venture on alone since my best travelling companions have abandoned me.”
Dashlane grunted. “You’re perfectly capable of getting yourself to Haversham.”
Crestwood looked down at his boots. “I am indeed.” He had the sudden feeling that he didn’t want to go either. Which was ridiculous. He’d not allow Adrianna or any other woman to change his character now. Doing so simply begged for trouble. He didn’t want to live through another letdown like the one Miranda had given him. “I’ll just take your ladies as well as mine.”
Dashlane gave him a smile and a clap on the back. “Now that sounds like the man I know and sort of despise.”
Luke glared at his friend as he opened the door. “And here I was going to offer to introduce you to the Moorish family.”
Dashlane paused, his nose wrinkling. “I’m not sure I wish to meet them anyhow.” He ran a hand through his golden hair. “Something about Ophelia unsettled me. Are they all as pretty as she is?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “All different, but each beautiful in her own way.”
“And are they as kind?” This from Craven, who rarely asked questions.
Luke gave Craven a sidelong glance as he stopped in the street, his gaze on the town square that flanked their left. “Each is as wholesome. I don’t know about kind. From the little I gathered, they all have something that makes them sparkle. I’ve never met a family quite like them. It’s…” He didn’t know how to complete the thought. Frightening, wonderful, annoying. He wasn’t certain.
The other two men paused next to him. Dashlane rubbed his neck. “Have either of you looked about this place and gotten the impression it holds some sort of youthful magic you lost when you grew up?”
Luke shifted. “I didn’t lose it. I thrust it away because it was an illusion and not real. That sort of feeling makes you do foolish things that end up getting a man hurt.”
Neither man answered as they continued to the inn entering the bustling establishment and looked about for a seat.
The place hummed with a happy energy as neighbors called to one another. Luke and his companions slipped into an empty table, remaining quiet. He didn’t know what Craven or Dashlane had on their minds, not that he cared. He’d carefully constructed a world that kept him safe from ever being hurt again and Seabridge Gate was trying to strip that defense away. He’d better get on the boat—and quick.
Adrianna took a large sip of tea, eager for the fortifying warmth the beverage would bring. She’d not slept well last night, plagued by dreams of rogues and their delightful kisses. Not that he’d kissed her, but apparently her imagination had gone wild with what such a touch might be like.
She had to admit Juliet might have had a point about practicing a few skills. Not that it mattered now. Lord Crestwood would get on a boat and be gone today, never to be seen again. And besides, she was more interested in honing her sparring skills than her kissing ones.
Not that she’d ever kissed a man before. Perhaps she should work on such activities after all. She was perfectly suited to protect her sisters, but perhaps lacking in the skills with which to find a husband of her own.