Living London

chapter Twelve



"Jocelyn!" Amelia floated over to me as quickly as was proper.

"Amelia! I was looking for you," I gushed as I gave her a quick hug.

"Good. We need to talk."

Her eyes brooked no argument, and I was concerned as I followed her to a deserted balcony overlooking the main ballroom of Almack's. I still couldn't believe I was here. When I'd received the voucher I'd immediately pressed it between the pages of my favorite book, wanting to keep the precious paper safe. Almack's!

As we entered the high perch, I viewed the sea of people milling about — some dancing, some heading to a game room to play cards. The sound of music and voices echoed through the richly decorated hall. "So, what's up?" I asked, immediately chastising myself for my slip up. Amelia gave me an odd look before I corrected myself. "I'm sorry. I meant to say, what is the problem?"

She eyed me with thin patience and friendly tolerance as she began to tell me her dilemma. "As you know, Lord Heath asked me to the ball the other night, and well… he asked me to take a ride with him in the park. We did and, to shorten the story, without any details…" Her voice dropped to a murmur as my eyes widened. I began to protest, but she silenced me with a pointed look around the room.

Ooooh, when she does tell me, it will be worth the wait. "Yes?"

"Well, let's just say he made his intentions clear." She cleared her throat daintily. "And now I find myself unsure." Her expression had gone fearful.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Do you remember what you said about rakes being the best husbands?"

"Yes, and you corrected me, saying that reformed rakes made the best husbands."

She looked up at me with a sincere expression. "How does one know if the rake is reformed?"

Good question. In all the books I'd read, it was simply understood because I could read the man's perspective, see into his head or heart. But it wasn't like that in real life. Amelia only had his actions and words to go by. What would she do if the rake in question was simply acting? Trust her heart? What if her heart wasn't the one lying?

"I don't know," I replied.

"Neither do I," she said in a miserable tone. "I want to believe him, but what if I'm wrong?"

She would be heartbroken. Lord Heath had captivated her from the start, and as much as she tried to fight it, she'd never been able to move past it. If he were simply playing with her emotions, the damage would be devastating. Honestly, I didn't know what to do or say. But I did know that time would give us our answer. "Well, we wait, we watch and we hope for the best." I spoke with conviction as I grasped her gloved hand.

With a nod, she gave me a rueful smile. We both wanted more than a wait-and-see answer.

As we left the balcony I glanced around, absorbing my surroundings. Gilded layers of molding surrounded everything, with a generous layer of crown molding finishing the grand height of the room. The polished floor reflected the candlelight, the rich fabrics, and the extravagantly-dressed ton. Even with my diamond-and-sapphire necklace and tiara, I didn't feel overdressed. Amelia and I walked into the main ballroom and went to get some of the notoriously sour, watered-down lemonade. It was worse than I had imagined. Reg walked up with a scowl as he eyed our cups dubiously.

"I see you've experienced the lemon water. I refuse to call that—" He pointed to my small cup. "—lemonade. It's more of a form of torture. But the orgeat is even worse, so stay with the lemon water." Reg cringed then returned his gaze to the sea of people. He'd dressed outlandishly again, and I suppressed a smile at his sense of style, or lack thereof. The bright cravat was turquoise this time, and he wore a silk coat in a bright blue with gold buttons. His oversized monocle only added to the absurdity of his dress. He still wore the ridiculous high heels that made him stand at an odd angle, and I wondered how he had waltzed in those the other night.

I turned away so he wouldn't notice my amusement and searched for Morgan. I had been at the party for over an hour and hadn't noticed him enter — and I had definitely been looking. Feeling bored just standing by the refreshment table, I asked Amelia to walk with me.

As we went around the room, I saw Arynna beaming at someone and flirting shamelessly. A large potted plant blocked her target's face. She laughed at something the gentleman said and swatted at him artfully with her fan. Leaning forward, she gave him a view of her low-cut bodice. I resisted the temptation to shake my head in disbelief. Some girls never changed — they would do anything and use anyone to get what they wanted. Based on the way she was batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips, it seemed she wanted whoever stood behind the plant.

The poor guy. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she'd be a pain to deal with day in and out. I turned away, no longer wanting to watch Arynna be a wanton flirt. When I glanced to Amelia, I halted my steps upon seeing her hurt expression. Her eyes widened, and she let out a small gasp. Following her gaze I noticed the plant no longer blocked the gentleman's face.

Lord Rake! Rather than looking politely interested in Arynna, he was grinning, seeming to enjoy himself. I squeezed Amelia's hand as she glanced away, spinning on her heel and taking me with her. We weren't quick enough. I glanced back and saw Lord Rake notice our abrupt change in direction and an aggravating smirk mar Arynna's features.

"I'm leaving. I've had enough for tonight. I guess I have my answer, hmm?" She spoke steadily, but I could see her eyes shining as she held the tears at bay.

Jerk, sleezeball, player. None of these would have made sense to her, so I searched for the word that could fit all those horrible traits. "Cad." I seethed.

Amelia looked into my eyes with a steely resolve. "No… rake." She cursed the word and bid me goodnight as she left, leaving me with the itching desire to dismember Lord Heath.

As I debated whether or not to stay, a warm hand caressed my back for an achingly short moment. "Miss me?" Morgan asked as he took my hand and kissed it; his gaze never left mine.

"Always."

"Good." His blue eyes twinkled with mirth and desire that made my skin tingle.

"You clean up nicely," I commented as my gaze took in how the cut of his coat accented his broad shoulders.

"I could say the same about you, but I must confess to having a certain fondness for rain-soaked ladies, above all else."

"Do you now?" I raised my eyebrow, knowing he had other things on his mind besides my state of dress at that point.

"Absolutely." His voice was deep and alluring creating a now familiar flutter in my chest that happened whenever he was around. "May I have this dance?"

"You're the only one I'd want to dance with," I answered honestly.

"Good. Make sure it stays that way."

"No," I countered, "you make sure it stays that way." He chuckled as he led me to the dance floor. "You're holding me a little close, don't you think?" I remarked, not caring but wanting to tease.

"As far as I'm concerned I'm not holding you nearly close enough." He punctuated his statement by drawing me in tighter.

"I see." I took in his dark, hooded gaze as he focused on my lips before clearing his throat and looking away.

After our waltz, I was thrilled to simply sit and talk with Morgan on a settee on the edge of the ballroom. We had the kissing chemistry, but there had to be more, and talking with him reminded me of why we had that physical chemistry.

"Are you enjoying your evening?" Morgan asked.

"Of course, though I must admit to finding it a bit more delightful recently. I can't imagine why." I grinned.

"Nor can I, couldn't be the company." Morgan teased.

"No, it certainly is not the company."

Morgan chuckled at my remark.

"So tell me, have you begun to remember anything? Isn't that what usually takes place once a person has experienced the loss? Slowly what was lost becomes found?"

"Well…" How did I tell him that I was pretty sure I'd never remember any of the past? At least the one he had experienced with me. "So far I'm a clean slate." I answered honestly.

"I'm truly sorry. I must admit to at times forgetting that you don't recall your past. If it helps, you are just as I remember you."

"Thank you, it is wonderful to know that." I paused, curious at his response. "What do you remember of me?" I tilted my head as I asked, searching his expression. To my delight, Morgan flushed slightly and glanced away with a small grin.

"Wouldn't you care to know?" he remarked with a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely, I'm beginning to think it's terribly fascinating."

"Miss Westin… I will confess to watching your début with rapt interest, but the rest of the story… perhaps will have to wait."

"I tend to be horribly impatient."

"Perhaps waiting will fortify that particular virtue."

"I doubt it." I cast him a teasing grin.

"I believe you… you are the impatient sort, and I doubt I'll ever reform that particular trait. And I must confess once more thing, Miss Westin.

"Yes?"

"I'm particularly fond of that vice of yours." He lowered his voice as his gaze dropped to my lips. "Especially your impatience in regard to me."

The heat in my face spoke of a large blush, and I averted my eyes as I remembered initiating our first kiss.

After a while, he excused himself to bring us back some more lemonade. I looked down at my lap and played with my gloves. It still seemed surreal to be living in Regency London, waltzing, dancing and maybe even falling in love.

"Miss Westin, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" said the oily voice of Lord Haymore effectively putting an end to my silent musings. Closing my eyes and swallowing hard to get rid of the gag reflex, I glared at him. Not even for a moment did I try to fake a polite indifference.

"Lord Haymore." I spoke coolly, purposefully not answering his question. My silence bought precious time so I could search for the Dannberry brothers, or Morgan. Anyone, really.

At my hesitation he pulled me up off of the settee with surprising strength and speed. "How nice of you to accept." He grinned, exposing his yellowing teeth.

"I don't remember accepting." I spoke through clenched teeth as I pulled my arm away from his grasping fingers.

"You will," he assured me, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Listen, you—"

"Ah, here you are Miss Westin! So sorry I'm late." The elder Dannberry's voice cut off my improper tirade, which would have surely caused a stir. "So sorry, ol' chap." He patted Lord Haymore's back a little harder than necessary, earning a glare. "Miss Westin promised me this waltz." His expression was innocent, and I could tell Haymore was searching for a reason to doubt the exchange, validating his prior claim.

"Yes!" I spoke up, not giving him a moment to argue. "As I was just telling Lord Haymore, this dance was spoken for by you, Lord Dannberry." As I turned to smile a thank you to my grandfatherly hero, I heard Haymore stomp away, leaving the smell of sour brandy in his wake.

"Thank you." My words were heartfelt, and I could have kissed my old friend if it wouldn't have scandalized everyone.

"Not to worry." He nodded. "A pleasure to be of service. I haven't liked Haymore since we were at Eton together, more years ago than I dare mention. He was an idiot then, and he's only gotten worse with age." He grinned, and more of my tension left.

Morgan was waiting for me when the dance ended, and he offered a sincere apology for not being there to defend me when Haymore had "accosted" me. He also offered Dannberry a sincere thank you. "I would have been there, but I was… er, waylaid." He appeared exasperated.

"What happened? Spill lemonade on a debutante?" I teased.

"Egads, no, I'm not that clumsy, but your confidence in me is overwhelming." He sent me a sarcastic smile before continuing. "Miss Windton cornered me, and apart from physically moving her out of my way, I had no mode of escape."

"Miss Windton?" I glanced around, trying to find whom he was referring to. I still hadn't learned everyone's name, or I only would remember part of it. First names stuck easier.

He clarified, "Yes, Miss Arynna Windton."

"Her?"

"Er, yes."

"Well, well, she's been busy tonight," I remarked, not caring if I sounded like a petty, jealous female. I already wanted to strangle her, along with Lord Rake, but her flirting with Morgan — my Morgan — was the cherry on top.

"I take it you are not friends with Miss Windton?" he asked, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.

"No, we are not friends, as you put it." Nanna's rule, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, ran through my head, and I shut my mouth not a moment too soon.

"Jocelyn! How are you?" said a syrupy voice from behind me. Glancing first at Morgan, who appeared concerned, I rearranged my face into a coolly polite expression. "Arynna." I tried to keep my voice level, but judging by Morgan's reaction I failed miserably.

"Lovely to see you," she simpered as she walked over and stood too close to Morgan. "We were just talking about you, weren't we, Lord Ashby?" She gazed up with adoring eyes, and I wanted to poke them out. Fake.

"Er, yes, we were," Morgan replied through a barely restrained chuckle.

"I was telling Miss Windton—" He removed himself with grace from her side and came around to stand next to me. "—about how we had a lovely stroll in the park today. Miss Windton didn't believe me since it had rained almost all day."

"Oh, pish and tosh, I said no such thing." She leaned forward. "I only stated that it would be disappointing to have a walk in the park with such a dashing gentleman cut short by the rain."

"Forgive me." He nodded in her direction, perfectly polite. "And I was simply affirming to her that we did not mind the rain." His eyes twinkled, and the anger slipped away and was replaced with a warm joy at the inside information we shared.

A smile spread across my lips, yet I forced my features into an innocent expression. "Of course, a little rain never hurt anyone. Although I did ruin a bonnet." I couldn't help but grin as I heard Morgan cough, his expression both amused and aroused in remembering just how "ruined" the bonnet had become.

Arynna cast a suspicious glance in his direction, clearly not understanding our innuendos. "Yes, well."

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you soon." I spoke quickly, not wanting to give her an opportunity for further questioning. I was done being nice. With that, I nodded and walked away. Morgan followed behind me shortly, escorting me to one of the rooms adjacent to the grand ballroom.

"I think I'm ready to leave," I stated, tired and not wanting to converse with a very determined Lord Rake who had spotted me.

"I'll get your carriage," Morgan promised and left.

I turned away from Lord Heath's approach. I doubted I'd avert the conversation, but I was so going to try.

"Miss Westin," came the all too familiar voice.

"Lord Rake," I responded without apology.

He smiled, fitting the name perfectly. "I'll assume you meant to compliment me, so I'll take it as such." He bowed his head as his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle.

"You would," I said as I turned back toward the dance floor.

"You wound me, Miss Westin. What have I done to offend you so?" His feigned sincerity did nothing to dull my anger.

"I have all faith you will survive my verbal assault. And you need to do nothing but simply breathe to offend me." I glanced back at him, awaiting his reaction.

Unaffected, he continued to smirk, enjoying the verbal sparring. "Then I will try to hold my breath."

"Please do."

"Where is your friend, Miss Westin?" The question I was dreading.

"She's… unwell at the moment and chose to leave early." Suffering from a broken heart… because of you.

His playful demeanor changed, and he appeared to be genuinely concerned, which didn't add up. He held no real affection for her, did he? "What is wrong?" His tense posture negated his casual question.

"Nothing serious, simply a bug," I fudged, not wanting to divulge any information. Amelia would never forgive me if I spoke of the real reason for her early departure.

"Bug? She was bitten by something, you say?" he asked, clearly not understanding my response.

"Not an actual bug, a virus of some sort," I amended.

"Virus? What on earth do you mean?" A concerned and confused expression twisted his features as his body became increasingly tense.

What did they call it? There's a word… I closed my eyes and paged through the books in my head, searching for the right one. "Ague!" I shouted, proud that I'd remembered such a strange word. Certainly now he'd understand. A few people stared but went back to their genteel conversations shortly.

"I had no idea it was so serious! Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Lord Rake demanded impatiently.

"It's not, she just was… feeling poorly."

"But you just said that—"

Irritated at the utter miscommunication I silently counted to ten. "I'm certain she will be feeling better in a day or two. It is nothing serious." I spoke evenly, hoping that he'd understand.

He rocked back on his heels and glared at me. He indignation was conveyed by his impatient headshake.

"It's not my fault! I had to put it in terms you understood," I shot back.

Glaring, he opened his mouth — to give me a scathing reply, I'm sure — but stopped as the spark returned to his eyes. He smiled. "Well, catching the ague…" He cleared his throat. "…would be an excellent reason to receive roses, don't you think, Miss Westin?"

"Maybe you should send them to Miss Windton instead. I'm sure she'll appreciate them more," I stated bluntly. I had no patience left for either of them. They deserved each other.

"Pardon?" Lord Heath asked. His expression conveyed confusion at my remark. I simply waited, tapping my slippered foot. Get there faster, buddy, I thought as he glanced down. His eyes met mine suddenly as if remembering, and I turned to walk away. He gripped my elbow in a polite but firm grasp. I glared at his grip on my arm, then his face. My lips twisted and I clenched my teeth, severely annoyed and angered by his behavior

"You are mistaken, Miss Westin. You should know some things are never what they seem."

He spoke sincerely, but I wasn't buying it. "And sometimes they are exactly what they seem," I countered, pulling my arm away.

"In this case, they are not. I do not hold affection for, nor do I even like, Miss Windton. If I remember correctly, even for a rake of my renown, I acted honorably. What exactly have you taken offense to?" he asked openly, without sarcasm.

"Yes, well, you…" I thought about what I had seen. I only remembered seeing Arynna's actions, her over-the-top flirting. "You smiled," I remarked unconvincingly. The argument sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Like I'm smiling at you right now," he said with a devilish grin.

"Yes, but, you didn't try to leave. She was all over you."

"No, she was not 'all over me', as you put it. I was appeasing her so I could leave quickly. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that if someone like Miss Windton thinks they've gotten the attention they were after, they'll leave you alone. That was my intention, Miss Westin. My only intention. Now tell me, was Miss Amelia upset by my conversation with Miss Windton?" His eyes were dark, daring me to lie to him. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I think you should speak with Amelia."

"Then maybe I do have a reason to send roses." He spoke without the air of confidence I was accustomed to hearing in his voice.

"Lord Rake, you should know that a woman never needs an occasion for roses."

As I finished speaking, Morgan strode purposefully toward us and nodded.

"Lord Heath." Morgan spoke, extending his arm for me to grasp. The two men sized up one another, which flattered me. Though Morgan had nothing to be jealous over, it was intriguing to see the possessive nature in his response.

"Lord… Heath," I commented, nodding my head. His eyebrow rose slightly at my usage of his formal name rather than nickname I'd given him earlier.

"Good evening." Morgan said as he led me away and into the hall towards the cool night air.

****

Amelia was too controlled the next day when I went to visit her. Her sharp eyes seemed dulled, and her movements were too polite and precise. She was hurting, and as much as I told her that we might have jumped to conclusions concerning Arynna and Lord Heath, she refused to believe it.

"But what if… what if we were wrong and he was just trying to appease her? It makes sense," I offered. As much as Lord Rake annoyed me with his dark angel looks and overconfident smirk, I knew Amelia sincerely cared for him, and I was quite convinced he returned her affections.

"No." She hadn't moved from her opinion or her prim posture on the brocaded settee. "And," she added, some of the spark returning to her eyes, "if what he had implied to me at the park was true, how am I supposed to be his wife and watch him act the very same way in order to extract himself from all the 'unwanted' attentions? How is that any better? Even if he's flirting with them to get his own way, it's still flirting."

She had a good point. And I admired her backbone, or pluck as they called it. Lord Heath had his work cut out for him if he really wanted Amelia. But that was the way it should be. After all, the notorious rake that he was, he must have been accustomed to getting his own way with whomever he pursued. Amelia wasn't falling into his ranks as a besotted, simpering debutante.

Good for her. If he wanted her then he'd do something about it. Something far more than was in character. And I told Amelia such.

"You could be onto something there," she mused, eyeing past me and mulling over our conversation.

"Miss Amelia?" came her butler's voice from the doorway.

"Yes, Groves?"

"You have a delivery. Shall I bring it in?" He spoke with the same emotional detachment as Wains. The impulse to shake things up a bit to see if he'd react was overwhelming, but I squelched it, barely.

"Yes… what is it?" Amelia asked curiously.

"A box, miss."

"How very helpful, Groves," she remarked sarcastically.

He smirked — well, his face twitched ever so slightly as he left to retrieve the box. He returned and set it on the side table for Amelia. I bit back a grin.

"Roses, dozens of them," Amelia breathed, her features lit up like a Christmas tree for an instant before they clouded over like a summer thunderstorm. "From Lord Heath."

"Er, yes, he did say something about sending them to you when we talked last night," I added belatedly.

Her eyes flashed fire as she glared at the beautiful red hothouse roses. "So, he thinks he can buy my good graces, does he? From afar no less! Well, let's send a message back… don't you think? It's only polite." She grinned, and I was slightly afraid at the half-mad expression on her face.

"What were you, um, thinking?" I dared ask.

"Here." She handed me a rose. "Take all the petals off."

"What?"

"Take all the petals off." She drew out the words as if challenging my intelligence.

"And do what with them?"

"Give them back."

When we finished, the box was filled with demolished roses and the room smelled heavenly. Each flower had been dissected, its petals removed and its stem placed back into the box amongst the petals. "Groves?" Amelia called, dusting her hands on a handkerchief.

"Yes, miss?" He stood at attention in the doorway, a dubious expression barely discernable across his high brow.

"Please have this box delivered to the residence of Lord Heath immediately."

His expression remained bland except for the slight widening of his eyes. "Of course, miss. Was there a note to accompany your… delivery?"

"No," she replied, smiling. "A note will surely not be necessary."

As he left with the box, Amelia regained some more of her spark, and we drank tea while I told her of the heroics of the elder Dannberry brother, saving me from Lord Haymore. We hadn't spoken for long before Groves once again appeared in the doorway.

"Miss Amelia? You have a gentleman caller; are you at home?" He came over to her with a shining silver tray with a card on top.

"Ahh, no. I'm not at home."

Glancing over, I saw the name. Ah. Lord Rake got the message apparently.

Groves nodded and left.

"I heard her voice, and I know she's home. Please ask again." A familiar voice in the hall carried through the slightly open door. The deceptively calm voice belonged to Lord Rake.

Groves replied, "Sir, I'm afraid that I can't—"

"If you won't go back, then I will," Lord Rake interrupted, followed by heavy footfalls and a sputtering and protesting Groves. "Amelia!" he boomed.

Here come the fireworks…

Lord Rake strode into the room and stopped abruptly at our wide eyes and my amused grin, tempered by Amelia's icy glare. He cleared his throat. "Amelia, a word please."

"I have nothing to say to you." She spoke with perfectly polite tones that warred with her glacial stare.

"Oh, I believe you do." He nodded and strode to where she sat.

Groves had been watching the whole exchange with a mixed expression of horror and entertainment. The stoic butler was visibly appalled at the scene before him but unable to do a thing about it without offending Lord Heath.

"Now, what is it that has you shredding roses and ignoring the very same man you dove to near madness in the park the other day? Are your emotions so fickle? Am I some sort of game to you? A prize to be won and then discarded once you've secured my intentions?" Lord Rake's voice continued to rise until he ended his tirade.

I could see Amelia's ire rise to epic proportions. "Me?" she all but yelled. "You accuse me of playing with your tender emotions?" You? You were the one who was flirting shamelessly with that tart of a debutante Arynna! I saw you! You didn't discourage her advances at all! And what was I to think then? Hmm? The very same man who kissed me so passionately and tenderly the day before, the man who told me he had been watching me for years only too afraid he was unworthy to approach me, the same man who told me I was going to be his wife, what was I to think? Tell me that!" Her chest heaved, and tears fell down her face. "Is that how I would feel as your wife? Watching you flirt shamelessly with other women? No! I'd rather be an old spinster. I don't need you if that's what you're offering me. Take your shredded roses and leave. Now. I have nothing further to say."

Groves stood rooted to his post by the door as if unable to move. A paralyzing sensation prevented me from moving as I watched the passionate exchange. Amelia turned away and wiped her eyes furiously with her gloved hands. Lord Heath had visibly calmed down and was reaching inside his coat for a hanky, which he gave to her.

"Amelia, dear Amelia," he whispered, reaching over to touch her shoulder as she sniffled delicately. She shook her shoulder, trying to remove him, but he held firm, sliding his hand down her arm till he came to her elbow and gently turned her around.

"Amelia, everything I've said to you was true. Not once have I lied or embellished my intentions or affections in your regard. I apologize that my actions hurt you. In the future, I'll be more aware. But when I do fall short, I need to know that you won't think the worst of me." His eyes were sincere. The intimacy of the moment forced me to glance away and give them at least a shred of privacy.

"Amelia, you assumed much, all of it misguided. Please, please don't let a misunderstanding take you from my arms." At his romantic words, I couldn't help but glance up. He wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her body flush with his own. "Don't run away from me. It wouldn't work anyway, I'd just chase you." He offered a small smile, and Amelia returned a trembling one.

"You'd chase me?" she asked uncertainly.

"To the ends of the earth," he affirmed, never once breaking eye contact. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her. Her eyes drifted closed, and I sighed. This is better than the movies.

Groves finally found his voice and immediately cleared his throat, reminding the couple of their audience. Lord Heath pulled back and grinned at Amelia. "So, if I keep my roguish ways to myself or simply lavish them upon you… will you marry me, Amelia?"

The possessive way he spoke her name gave me goosebumps. My gaze darted between them. Amelia searched his eyes with a passionate intensity that gave away her answer even before her lips spoke it.

"Perhaps, but you must have a care. I will not share you." She nodded and straightened her posture, waiting for him to affirm his loyalty.

"There's nothing of me to share, Amelia. You already own it all." He whispered so softly I almost missed the deep, rich timbre of his sincere words. "I already spoke with your father, if that is what concerns you. And in case you were uncertain, he gave his permission."

"Can you forgive me for my lack of faith in you? And for shredding your lovely roses?" she added with a grin.

"Oh, I think I'll find a way for you to make it up to me." His rakish gaze took in her face and then dipped down along her body. I looked away, embarrassed. She slapped him playfully, and he laughed.

"Well!" Groves interrupted." Now that we've settled, um, everything…" He cleared his throat again. "I'll just be bringing in some tea."

After offering congratulations, I excused myself as well, grinning the entire way home.