AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She blew out the candle and found that she felt a little better. At least she could say she did all she could. Outside she heard the beginnings of a fierce rainstorm. Odd. Rain hadn’t been in the forecast. Lia glanced at the lovely and placid countenance of Aphrodite on her mantel.
“Your doing?” she asked with a smile. Of course Aphrodite did not answer. Lia left her bedroom. If luck or Aphrodite were on her side tonight and that rain kept up, the house might flood and then the party would be canceled.
A madam could hope.
CHAPTER TWO
As soon as Lia left her suite, she heard voices, laughter, the clinking of champagne flutes and the clicking of high heels on marble floors. She descended the curving main staircase to the entryway of Wingthorn Hall, the ancestral home of the earls of Godwick. Her mother, Mona, the Countess of Godwick, stood by the door, resplendent in a strapless evening gown as scarlet as her reputation.
She grinned broadly as Lia came to stand at her side for door duty.
“You look beautiful, darling.” Her smile turned quickly to a scowl. “When did you get so old?”
“I’m twenty-one, Mother.”
“Impossible,” the countess said. “I’m thirty.”
“You’re for—”
Her mother raised her hand to silence her. “We do not say theFword in this house.”
TheFword wasforty. Lia’s mother was theFword plus seven.
“Sorry.”
Thunder rumbled outside. The ancient windows shivered. Temporary “footmen” waited at the door, armed with black umbrellas to shield the arriving guests.
“Maybe we should cancel the party,” Lia said. “For safety reasons.”
The safety of her sanity.
“Too late for that,” her mother said. “Here we go again.”
The grand oak front doors of Wingthorn yawned open. A man entered. Lia couldn’t see who he was at first, as his face was hidden behind an umbrella held by a footman. The footman lowered the umbrella, and Lia had one thought at the first sight of the man.
Oh no.
The man, whoever he was, wore a dark blue three-piece suit that perfectly complemented his olive-brown skin. The umbrella had gotten to him a second too late. His hair was rain-damp, dark and curling. His age? Lia guessed thirty, thirty-three tops. Too young to be friends with her parents, too old to be friends with her.
Whoever he was, Lia knew she’d never seen him before. Yet when he looked at her, it seemed he knew her. He gave her the slightest little winking smile as her father shook his hand.
That wink. That smile. Pure mischief. It made Lia’s toes clench in her shoes. She ordered her toes to unclench, which they did, but under protest.
“Blink, child,” her mother whispered, “before your eyes dry out.”
“Who is he?” Lia asked, blinking.
“Has to be Augustine Bowman.”
“What’s the gossip?” Lia had to know all about him at once and even immediately. Stat.
“Supposedly his mother’s a famous Greek beauty. His father is military or something. Divides his time between London and Athens. He’s been buying up ancient artifacts and taking them home to Greece.”
Lia watched her father, Spencer, the fifteenth Earl of Godwick, chatting with Augustine Bowman, no doubt talking of important manly things like football, old Scotch and how very grand it was to go through life with a penis. Mr. Bowman was nearly as tall as her very tall father, but broader in the chest and shoulders. She bet he had good legs, too, like a football player. She needed to find something about him to loathe and quickly, or she’d be staring at him all night.
“Do you think he beats his servants?” Lia asked.
“If they ask him nicely enough.”
