DD-Michaels-END.rtf (11 page)

Morgan was silent for some moments, weighing her next words very carefully before going to her knees in front of Julia, taking hold of her hands. "You have to promise, Julia. Promise you won't say any of this to Chance."

Julia hesitated, then gave in to the pleading look in Morgan's eyes. "I promise."

Morgan took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then said
,
"I think Odette saw him, Julia
.
I think she saw him a long time ago, and knew. He's my dangerous man, Julia. I feel it. I've felt it from the first moment I looked at him. He belongs to me. Much as I love you and Chance, and
much as you hopefully love me, I'm going to have him. I don't think I have a choice."

"Does he?" her brother asked from the doorway.

Morgan let go of Julia's hands and leaped to her feet
,
to glare at Chance as he stood there, leaning nonchalantly against the jamb. Her chin lifting, she said regally, "I'll assume there's a key for that lock? If so, I want it."

"Really," Chance said, pushing himself away from the doorjamb, to fully enter the bedchamber. "And if there's a working chastity belt left in England I want the key t
o
—"

"Chance! That's enough," Julia warned, trying not to giggle, because her husband was acting very silly. Just like an older brother, she supposed, and he didn't seem too comfortable in the role. "She's Morgan. Better she tell us the truth than lie to us, then do as she pleases."

"You can say that, Julia, my dearest, because you aren't aware of Aylesford's reputation. I may not be familiar with all of it, but I've heard enough at my club to know that he's no fitting suitor for my sister. For one thing, he's ancient, old enough to be your father."

"He is not! He can't be more than a few years older than you,
brother."

"Which still makes him more than ten years your senior. I...
w
e can't allow that." He looked pleadingly at his wife. "Julia? Tell her."

Morgan turned to appeal to Julia. "Do
you hear him? Making excuses, handing out trumped-up reasons."

Julia's expression was sympathetic. "Ten or twelve years are quite a few years...."

Morgan felt her own face grow tight, even as she began breathing evenly through her nose, calming herself. All she had to do was agree with them, placate them. Why was she fighting so hard? She forced her lips into a smile. "Very well. If you're adamant, I won't see him again. There. Is everyone happy now? Pleased with themselves?"

Julia gazed at her husband. "Chance? Remember what we talked about a few days ago? The day the letter arrived from Becket Hall? Something about lists..
.
and
suggestions?"

Chance looked at his wife, looked at his sister.
 
One appealed to him with her eyes. The other dared him with hers.

"All right, all right," he said, throwing up his arms in surrender. "Go to hell your own way, Morgan, you always do. I'd be a fool to think I could stop you, and anything I could tel
l
you about Aylesford would only make him more interesting to you. Just be sure you don't drag the rest of us down there with you."

Morgan's smile was brilliant, if brittle. "Well. Finally. Thank you, Chance. I would have gotten my own way in any event, but it's wonderful to know that I now have your
permission
to make my own decisions, considering the fact that I'm a grown woman."

"Grown woman? You're
eighteen,
damn it, and you've got about as much knowledge of how things are for men like Aylesford as a turnip.
I
—"

Julia decided she'd heard enough. Nothing good could possibly come from speaking any more about the Earl of Aylesford. She pressed her palms against her knees and pushed herself to her feet. "Chance, darling? Please don't worry anymore, and come with me. I... I've got something to te
l
l you...."

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Morgan, please sit down. You're giving me a crick in my neck, watching you."

Morgan looked at her sister-in-law. "I can't, Julia," she said, as she continued to pace the drawing room. "What if I was wrong? What if he was just amusing himself at my expense?"

"
Then, I suppose, you'll simply have to kill him," Julia said, smiling at her own small joke.

"You're not being helpful, Julia," Morgan said, stopping to glare at her.

"Forgive me. It's just that this is so unlike you, Morgan. You've changed your outfit from the skin out.
Twice.
You nearly drove poor Louise to despair about your hair. Anyone would think the Morgan I remember had been hidden in a closet somewhere, and someone who looks just like her has been put in her plac
e
— missing only the real Morgan's supreme confidence."

"I've never before had a reason not to feel confident
,
" Morgan admitted, at last collapsing into a chair, a move that Julia approved by way of a small sigh and a whispered
thank God.
"After all, it doesn't take much to impress anyone at
Becket Hall all hollow, now does it?"

"All those poor, adoring country bumpkins, you mean, not to mention the occasional soldier who passes by and immediately becomes smitten with you," Julia said, shaking her head. "Morgan, you're an incorrigible flirt. Someone who didn't know you as I do would think you are quite shallow and vain."

Morgan shrugged, Julia's words not affecting her. "E
ll
y doesn't bother to put herself forward, Fanny is mad for horses and doesn't even notice that there are men in this world, and Cassandra's still too young. I'm the obvious choice, that's all. But now I wonder if that's all I wa
s
—
t
he obvious choice. But here? In London? Here I'm just one more hopeful debutante, lost among so many others. I don't like that. I really don't. I mean, I hadn't minded. Not until yesterday."

"Something changed yesterday?"

Morgan stared down at her leather-covered toes, then at Julia.
"Everything
changed yesterday."

Julia looked at her sister-in-law, whose expression proved me girl to be quite serious, if a bit melodramatic.

"Yes...
I
can see that," she said, then watched in bemusement as Morgan got to her feet and began to pace once more.

Morgan was dressed this afternoon in a buttercup-yellow walking dress accented in a lovely bright blue, and topped with a short, long-sleeved blue jacket. A simple enough outfit, but nothing remained simple once it was draped over Morgan's magnificent form. She could probably flatter rags used to wash the kitchen floors.

Louise had worked her wonders, even under considerable duress, so that now Morgan's thick black hair was pulled back to form an intricate knot that fell from her crown to her nape. Morgan's fine but exceedingly plentiful hair had no curl, and when she'd seen the curling stick she'd waved it away, preferring to lean toward the dressing table mirror, frown, and then pull a heavy lock of hair free, so that it hung from the slightly off center part, curving around her cheek and ending just below her jawline.

Julia doubted there was a man with a beating heart in this world who would see that lock of hair and not want to touch it, cup the cheek it caressed.

No artful, teasing curls for Morgan Becket. She didn't need them, for one, and any paltry little curls would have run away in fright when presented with that heavy mass of ebony glory that helped make Morgan unique, not just in London, but probably in most of the British Isles.

Combine the hair with the vibrant blue velvet
,
the way the soft buttercup muslin caressed her curves, the erect, I-dare-you carriage of the girl...
a
dd those amused, wickedly intelligent gray eyes, her fine, slightly golden complexion..
.
and
magnificent
was the word that kept popping into Julia's head each time she looked at her. Along with
unique.
And, for anyone who didn't know the girl,
inti
m
idatingly imperious.
Not a princess. No, not Morgan. Morgan was a queen.

And yet now, at this moment, while she awaited the arrival of the Earl of Aylesford, Morgan looked incredibly nervous, even vulnerable.

An odd sight, indeed.

"Morgan, you won't be lost among the other debutantes. You couldn't get lost in the middle of a battalion," Julia teased. "Now, the earl will arrive soon. He didn't mention an exact tim
e
—
a
nd yes, I've explained to your brother, in some detail, that he must learn to ask such question
s
—
b
ut the Promenade begins at five, so he has to present himself very soon. At which time, Morgan, you'll sit here with me, we'll greet the earl when he's announced, speak of nonsense for a few minutes, and then you can be on you
r
—"

"He's here!" Morgan had been listening for the knocker to sound, and was already heading for the hallway.

Julia's amusement at her sister-in-law's nervousness vanished. "Morgan, sit down. Yes, he's here, but now he must be led upstairs and annou
n
—
o
h, the devil with it," she ended, because Morgan had all but run from the room, leaving Julia to gather up the girl's gloves and bonnet and trail after her.

Morgan slid to a halt at the railing overlooking the staircase and f
o
yer below, and watched as Ethan Tanner handed his hat and gloves to one of the footmen.

As she looked at him her nervousness fled, to be replaced by sheer excitement.

He was magnificent. Once again his dark blond hair had been brushed straight back from his forehead, and now gleamed golden in the sunshine filtering in through the large fanlight over the front door.

As her heart pounded, and her breathing became shallow, Ethan gave his name to the footman and said he'd "come to collect Miss Becket."

Trailing one hand along the banister, Morgan moved toward the staircase, calling out, "Collect her? You make me sound like a butterfly to be added to your collection, my lord. I don't think I'd like to have pins stuck through my wings."

Ethan looked up, to see Morgan slowly advancing toward him down the wide marble stairs. It had been a lifetime since last he'd seen her, but she had been well worth the wait.

"I agree, Miss Becket," he said, moving to the staircase, extending both hands up to her. "Beauty such as yours must be free to spread its wings, to fly." He added more quietly, almost fiercely, "My God, woman, why didn't anyone warn me that today would be the longest of
my life?"

Laughter bubbled up inside Morgan. It was back. It had never left. Not for either of them. The feeling. The
knowing.
She stopped two steps above him, placed her hands in his. "There have been shorter years."

He drew her down the last steps, bent his elbows so that he brought her closer to him in the pool of sunlight, which seemed tohave grown wider, warmer, since he'd entered the foyer. The whole world seemed to be washed in sunshine, even indoors.

He saw the laughter in her eyes, the joy...
a
nd the longing..
.
and knew his eyes revealed the same to her. The man who hid his true feelings was some other Ethan Tanner, some poor creature only half-alive. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let's get out of here before I do something that forces your brother to knock me down."

"Would you then get up and knock him down?" Morgan asked, so very aware of the warmth of his skin beneath her hands.

"No. I couldn't. I'd deserve every punishment, just for what I'm thinking right now. God, Morgan..
.
this can't be happening. But it is, isn't it?"

Morgan nervously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Ethan's grip on her hands tightened. "Yesterday. .
.
you were going to kiss me...."

"Morga
n
! Morgan, dear, you forgot your bonnet and gloves," Julia said, already halfway down the stairs, and wondering if she should send the footman for a bucket of water cold
from
the well, and throw it over these two near-to-boiling creatures.

Ethan reluctantly released Morgan's hands, to bow to the lady of the household. "Mrs. Becket, my esteemed pleasure."
   

"Yes, I'd gathered that," Julia said, handing Morgan her bonnet and glove
s
—
n
early bowling her over as she all but jammed them into her waist. 'To the Promenade, my lord? That is the plan?"

"And nowhere else," Ethan said, smiling in appreciation of this woman's unblinking frankness. "Yes, madam, to the very public, very crowded, exceedingly proper Promenade, where our combined behavior will be impeccable."

"I'm sure you'll both enjoy the spectacle," Julia said, knowing she and the earl understood each other.