Page 20 of Love Wasn’t Built in a Day

“Don’t fret, ladies,” drawled a languid voice from the interior. “There’s no one here but me to chastise you, and I should never dream of doing so.”

They stiffened, wondering who’d had the audacity to speak to them without an introduction.

Hetty heard Cilly’s sharp intake of breath and followed her gaze. Lounging against the reception desk was a man who embodied the very essence of the elegant and sophisticated gentleman of fashion. Tall and lean, his sculpted features were handsome, but with a dangerous edge that made Hetty instantly aware this was not the kind of man they ought to encourage.

“Come, Cilly,” she whispered, but to her eternal surprise, Cilly did not budge. She seemed to have taken root and was gazing at the man with undisguised interest.

“Cecilia,” Hetty hissed, tugging at her arm.

“What?” Cilly asked, her voice faint, as if from a long way off.

Appalled, Hetty glanced back at the devilish stranger, and something about the way he looked at them struck her as familiar. His grey gaze was unreadable, but perhaps it was the way his lips quirked into a knowing smile. All at once she realised who they were looking at.

“Cilly. Now,” she said, giving her sister a little pinch.

Cilly let out a little yelp, but moved at once, much to Hetty’s relief.

“Good heavens,” she said crossly, once they were safely out of his proximity. “Were you going to stay there gazing at him with your mouth open?”

Cilly blushed scarlet, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Certainly not, I was only… only…”

“Only what? Mesmerised?”

“Don’t be silly. I just thought I recognised him,” she said with an airy wave of her hand.

“I should certainly hope not,” Hetty said with a short laugh. “For that was the Viscount Rivington.”

Cilly’s mouth fell open in a little o of wonder. “Was it?”

Hetty regarded the interest in her usually sensible sister’s eyes with a little alarm. “Yes, and we certainly will not be telling his grace about that meeting. He might have an apoplexy, but he’d murder us first if he discovered we encouraged the man.”

“We did no such thing,” Cilly objected.

“We over here, didn’t,” Hetty muttered, but too low for her sister to hear. It was with some relief she noticed a waitress who greeted them and led them out onto the terrace to enjoy their ices in peace.

The Mermaid, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 21st July 1816

Gideon stalked towards the hotel, reminding himself it would do no good to cause a scene. His brother delighted in scandal and the only one it would hurt was himself. So as satisfying as it might be to throw the devil into the road and tell him to sling his hook, he could not do so.

He stalked into the hotel, looking around, but for the moment there was no one at the reception desk. Considering the merits of ringing the bell for attention, he instead hurried out to the terrace. He often came to The Mermaid to eat, for the lodgings he had taken in town over a cheese shop, of all things, were small and not very well furnished. It had been all he could afford, however, for the locals had cottoned on to the fact that their town had become fashionable and hiked up the prices.

At this hour, ladies and some gentlemen clustered on the terrace, partaking of the Mermaid’s summer speciality, flavoured ices. Sadly, the weather was not as warm and sunny as the scene merited, but this was England and it would take more than a stiff breeze to stop people enjoying themselves and eating their iced treats.

“Mr Bramwell?”

Gideon looked around, nodding curtly as he saw Lady Henrietta and her sister sitting at a table together.

“Good day to you, my lady. If you would excuse me, I’m looking for—”

“Your brother.”

Gideon started, turning back to her. “You know him?” he exclaimed, unable to hide the dismay behind the question.

“No. Not even a little,” she replied. “I just assumed that’s who you were looking for, as we saw him in the foyer when we arrived. I believe you just missed him.”

Gideon did not bother asking how she’d known it was him. They looked enough alike to make it obvious. Except that Damian’s features were far closer to perfection than Gideon’s, and he was a lot more dangerous to young ladies and their reputations, he thought grimly.

“Would you care to join us while you wait for his return?” she asked him. The question was nonchalant, but he sensed she truly wished him to join them.