Page 14 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue
“You’ll need a skilled dresser who can style your hair to match the other ladies.”
“Now we’re judging my hair, are we?”
He touched the mass of ringlets at her nape and traced the circlet of yellow primroses and vines at her crown. “This is very artful. Did Lady Wyndam’s lady’s maid arrange this for you?”
“Yes, Lady Wyndam insisted on it.”
“Your hair is as gorgeous as the rest of you. But you are too conservative in the way you dress it. Let Lady Wyndam find you someone to take to the house party who can guide you in what is customary and what is not.”
“You certainly believe in seeing to the fine details.”
“I don’t want you to feel out of place. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, I see.”
“And I love seeing a beautiful woman well-coiffed and beautifully dressed.”
“For the reasons you mentioned before, for the undressing and unwrapping and all that.” She waved her hand, lifting it into the air.
“Yes, now you understand. It is like receiving a beautiful gift and unwrapping it.”
So, he really was shallow in his way. And quite boyish. She didn’t like how the realization put a hard little knot in her belly.
And she didn’t want to admit her disappointment. She was here to have some adventures and to enjoy herself. She wasn’t looking for anything deeper. It didn’t matter if he was cocky or shallow. He was also deliciously handsome and sensual and amusing. So, she pushed the feeling away and allowed him to draw her close into an embrace.
“Let the days until December twelfth pass quickly,” he murmured with his lips pressed into her hair, near her ear with the warmth of his breath tickling her earlobe.
That night, Angela listened to the clock downstairs chime twice. She reclined in bed, watching the shadows that thetree made on the walls as the wind gusted outside. Raindrops pattered on the window. The weather outside was just as turbulent as her thoughts.
He wanted to be with her at a grand party full of aristocrats.
Yet, he hadn’t even properly kissed her.
She had wanted him to kiss her. Very much.
The arrogant jackass hadn’t even attempted to kiss her.
And here she was going along with what he wanted and the pace at which he wanted. Going along with what everyone else wanted. All her life, others had tried to make decisions for her.
When she was eighteen, a man twenty years her senior, one from her mother’s opera troupe, asked for her hand in marriage. Her father, a man she had never even set eyes on, had already settled a respectable dowry on her. And she knew that her mother, the great opera singer Maria Breda, and this man were in league to get their hands on her dowry.
How fortuitous it had seemed when she had met Jacob, a visitor to Italy, and that she had fallen in love with him. When he asked her to run away with him and marry him, she explained that she would void her generous dowry. Jacob had scoffed and said he and his family were wealthy and would not need her dowry.
She had loved him all the more for this and thrown caution to the wind and become his bride on the voyage to America. The decision had turned out to be less than desirable, no? But she had met his father and known a father’s love for the first time in her life. She had learned how to keep accounts and manage an extensive network of storehouses. Eventually, he had instructed her in the finer nuances of investing. For those reasons, hermarriage to Jacob could not be called a complete waste of her time.
And it had been her decision. She had taken the reins and asserted her will in the situation. Well, this affair with the Earl of Ashington should be no different. She would not obediently wait to attend some gala event so he could show off his latest conquest to his world.
With that, she threw back the quilts and left the bed. She wrapped her robe around herself in the chill, went to the writing desk, and lit the candle. She knew just what to say and dipped her quill with determination, then wrote quickly with a flourish:
Lord Ashington,
I am looking forward to attending the Christmas ball with you. However, I would like to get to know you better beforehand. I desire to be courted by you, but not under so many watchful eyes. I am certain that a gentleman of your skills can arrange a place of privacy for us to get to know each other intimately.
Angela
For a moment, she stared at the page, seeing the truth of her own desires in black ink upon the cream-colored parchment. Her heart beat a little faster, partly from trepidation at her boldness. She drummed her fingers on the desk with a sense of rising pleasurable anticipation. It felt good to assert herself with this powerful English gentleman, especially one who had so bluntly made several demands of her.
She folded and sealed the parchment.
