fall at your feet. I certainly won’t.”
Leaving him standing there staring after her, Roslyn turned to accompany her sister Lilian into the church. Drew eventually followed them up the front steps and along the center aisle to the front pews, which held the only remaining empty seats.
To his surprise, he recognized Fanny Irwin among the honored guests on the bride’s side. He hadn’t expected to see a famous courtesan sharing the family pew.
The sisters embraced Fanny warmly and then settled beside her. Drew took his own place on the right side of the aisle, next to Marcus’s younger sister, Eleanor, and her elderly aunt, Viscountess Beldon.
When Eleanor caught Drew watching the opposite aisle, she leaned toward him to whisper over the hushed murmurs of the crowd, “You remember when we first met Arabella, she told us that Fanny was their longtime friend? Well, Fanny remained loyal to them during all the years of scandal, and they aren’t going to snub her simply because she is no longer received in polite circles.”
“There is a vast difference,” Drew remarked in an under voice, “between supporting a friend and courting notoriety.”
“I beg your pardon?” Eleanor asked.
“Never mind, love.” He didn’t intend to discuss the last time he had seen Fanny Irwin. But it seemed curious that Marcus would allow her intimate connection with his wards to continue.
Drew knew all about the Loring family scandals, which had undeservedly made the sisters social pariahs. He also knew that Marcus had done his best to improve his wards’ standing in society, but those efforts would only be undermined if Roslyn’s brazen antics became known.
She was half turned away from him now, and Drew found his eyes fixed on her slender back, a variety of emotions warring within-curiosity, pique, disapproval. He was intrigued and perturbed at the same time.
“Roslyn is quite beautiful, is she not?” Eleanor whispered. “She would be considered an Incomparable if not for the disgrace her family suffered.”
She was indeed beautiful, Drew had to admit. Her hair was pale gold, the color of fine champagne. And with her tall, willowy figure and exquisite features, she was as lovely and delicate as gilded crystal.
Eleanor evidently took his silence as agreement. “You cannot tell simply by looking at her, but Roslyn is the most clever and studious of the three sisters.”
“Studious?” Drew replied with skepticism.
“Yes, indeed. She even knows Latin. She has read nearly every tome in her late uncle’s library, and Marcus has begun sending her books from his own library in London. Her delicacy gives one a false impression. Lily, on the other hand, is quite the hoyden. She is the passionate one in the family.”
Heath joined them just then, in time to overhear Eleanor’s last remarks. Bending closer, he murmured with amusement, “Marcus was right, Drew. Miss Roslyn looks suited to the role of duchess.”
“Stubble it, you old bleater,” Drew murmured.
Despite their attractions, he wanted nothing to do with marriageable young ladies of the Loring sisters’ ilk. For much of his life he’d been hounded and harassed by avaricious mamas and daughters who had only one goal in mind-the taming and matrimonial capture of a wealthy duke. The thought of being shackled for life to that sort of covetous, grasping female made him shudder.
Roslyn Loring might not be so material-minded, but he most certainly didn’t want to find himself strangled in the parson’s noose with her as his wife, which likely would have happened had he made love to her that night.
Drew was vastly relieved by his near escape from potential disaster. Because of his mistaken assumption regarding her identity, he might have been honorably compelled to offer for her hand in marriage.
Indeed, if Roslyn hadn’t been so set on escaping him, he might have thought she’d purposely contrived to entice him out onto that balcony. It wouldn’t be the first time a scheming husband-hunter had plotted to entrap him by luring him into a compromising situation.
But whatever her reasons for attending the Cyprians’ ball, he intended to discover them. If his friend’s ward was courting trouble and risking scandal, or worse, actual danger, Marcus needed to know about it.
His thoughts were interrupted as the bride and groom took their places before the altar. A hush fell over the crowd, and a moment later, the vicar began the service.
“Dearly beloved…”
Drew sat back in his seat, girding himself to endure the proceedings. He did
Drew shook his head. He cared deeply for his friend and hoped he wouldn’t be bitterly disappointed in love, but suspected it was inevitable.
As the vicar prosed on, he found his gaze straying across the aisle to the lovely Roslyn. She sat tall and straight, watching the ceremony with solemn interest.
Eventually his thoughts drifted back to the night they met. He remembered her scent, soft and tempting. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, her sweet, tentative response when he kissed her the first time.
Perhaps she truly was as inexperienced as she’d claimed. If so, that explained why she kissed so innocently.
She’d responded fervently to their second kiss, though, and to his more erotic ministrations afterward. He was an expert at reading his lover’s responses, and he could tell she wasn’t feigning passion.
He’d responded with an unanticipated fervency of his own, Drew acknowledged. He rarely was that swiftly, that intensely, attracted to any woman. In truth, he couldn’t remember ever feeling such a sudden fierce spark of desire as he had that night. The urge to sweep Roslyn up in his arms and carry her to the nearby chaise longue had been overwhelming. He’d wanted to make love to her for hours, to arouse her to pleasure and to experience his own, to prove to her they could have a supremely enjoyable liaison while it lasted.
Thank God he had taken it no further.
But how damned ironic that the first woman he’d been interested in for months was off limits. Roslyn Loring was completely untouchable. No honorable gentleman would pursue her without marriage in mind. And he had no intention of winding up here in this church with her.
She had remained in his thoughts for days afterward, however. Hell, she was still captivating his thoughts. He couldn’t forget her lush nakedness, her sweet, ripe breasts. Couldn’t forget how her dusky nipples had felt in his mouth, how they tasted…
The ceremony was thankfully brief. A short while later, Marcus was given permission to kiss his bride, which he did with obvious tenderness.
Beside Drew, Eleanor sighed and wiped a tear from her eye.
Seeing her action, Heath leaned over to tease her. “For someone who has jilted two suitors, Nell, you are strangely romantic.”
“Simply because
Drew refrained from scoffing, but barely.
Eleanor saw his expression and eyed him curiously. “You don’t believe they are in love, do you?”
“I believe Marcus
Heath’s mouth curved. “Such a cynic.”
Drew smiled. “Just so. But I’ve never seen a union that was formed so precipitously last beyond the first flush of infatuation.”
“Neither have I,” Eleanor said wistfully, “but I know they must exist. All the poets say so.”
She rose then and went to join her brother, where she gave him a long and heartfelt embrace. Heath and Drew followed but contented themselves with shaking hands with Marcus.
For once, Drew kept his cynical thoughts to himself. Through much of their boyhood and all of their adulthood, the three of them had been inseparable, having attended Eton and Oxford together and then come into their vast fortunes and illustrious titles the same year. Like Roslyn, Drew didn’t want to spoil the momentous day for Marcus, even if he was troubled by his friend’s reckless rush into matrimony.
Nearby, the Loring sisters were engaged in an emotional embrace of their own, their tears and smiles a clear
