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THE LONDONER

SPOTTED!

The elusive Earl and Countess of Maxwell have been spied amongst Polite Society. Witnesses say there were many stretches of silence between them. All thetonis then left to wonder at the circumstances surrounding Lord Maxwell’s marriage to the mystery woman. Extortion? Bribery?Worse?

M. Fairpoint

As a girl, Verity had heard tales of Gunter’s. The stories had fallen from her father’s lips as he’d regaled her with talk of London and all the places to see and all the things to do there. Peppered within each of those tales, there’d been the promise to one day take her there himself and allow her to try every flavor of ice.

Of course, as a small child, Verity had believed those promises. It hadn’t been until the years dropped away that she’d learned her father would never bring her to Gunter’s and all those wonderful places. That he’d never intended to, and all of it had been no different from the story he’d read to her from the fairy-tale book when he had come around.

As such, Verity had eventually come to accept that she’d never go to that illustrious place on Berkeley Square. Or taste those ices he’d spoken so excitedly of.

And yet, she was here now. Seated atop a curricle with a crystal glass of jasmine-rose ice, and she couldn’t so much as muster a smile. All the muscles of her belly remained knotted and twisted. Survival had earned her immediate capitulation to Malcom’s proposal. Now, the ramifications of living here, amongst her father’s people ... and his legitimate family? Verity clasped her hands tightly around her crystal cup.

I have every right to be here ...

She may not wish to be here in this capacity, but she needn’t be hidden away like a dirty secret. Why did it feel like she only sought to convince herself? Nor did it help matters that she was seated beside a man who despised her, and who hadn’t uttered a single word to her since he’d all but tossed her atop the curricle.

“I’ll have you know this is never going to work,” Verity said from the side of her mouth.

For a long while she expected Malcom wouldn’t even respond to that utterance. He scoured the streets, openly glaring at both onlookers and passersby. No one was spared his wrath. Not even her.Especiallynot her.

“What?”

“This.” Careful to keep her palm low and out of visibility in the carriage, with her spare hand, Verity motioned between them. “Us.This ruse. None of it will ever work as long as you carry on as you are.” The ease of their banter over chess was a distant memory made by two very different people, ones not divided over betrayal. A pang struck at that fleeting time she’d had with him. When they’d been two people hiding from a shared danger.

Suddenly, Malcom dropped an arm around her shoulders, wringing a gasp from her. “And tell me, dear heart, just how should I present myself?” he whispered against her ear. “Devoted? In love?”

Her body, traitor that it was, tingled where he held her. It knew nothing of pride, or of the mockery Malcom sought to make of her. “I’d settle for ‘human,’” she muttered, and when faced with the option of her ice melting over the rim of her glass or taking a bite, Verity dipped her spoon and tasted the flowery-sweet confection. “You might at least smile.”

“I don’t smile,” he said tersely. As if to accentuate that very point, Malcom glowered at a puce-clad dandy who stepped too close to the curricle.

The young man bolted off in the opposite direction with such alacrity his crimson silk Empire top hat tumbled to the ground. And the gentleman continued running, without so much as glancing back for the costly article.

Verity sighed. This was going to be a good deal harder than she’d anticipated.

“Whatnow?” he demanded, that harsh question so hushed it barely reached her ears. At her side, Malcom tensed, his sinewy thighs tightening. The muslin fabric of her day dress did little to conceal the heat of him pressed against her. Or the weight of that heavily muscled limb.

Her breath quickened, and words escaped her. What had he said? It had been a question? Hadn’t it? She took several frantic bites of her ice, shoveling the treat into her mouth. To keep from openly gazing at his splendid physique, impressively displayed within his tight-fitting black trousers and double-breasted coat.

“I suggest you say whatever it is you intend to say.” His was a command that would never be confused for a question, and it also proved sobering, cutting across her pathetic musings of him.

“Actually, I do have something to say.”You’re a damned fool ... going weak-kneed over a man who despises you.Who if he hadn’t a need for her, would sooner turn her over to Newgate than talk to her ... “You’re not making any of this easy.”

“And do you expect I should make it easy for you, Verity?”

She thought about that for a moment. “Well, no,” she conceded. “But I’m not so much speaking of myself as you.” Verity opened her mouth to explain when she caught a trio walking in neat precision, locked in step, with a bevy of maids following several paces behind.

Oh, blast and damn.

Sliding closer to Malcom, Verity slipped her arm through his, and favored him with her best I-adore-you-and-cannot-live-without-you expression.

“What in hell isthat?”

Or her bestattemptat an adoring smile.

“I’m besotted.”