Page 7 of Not His Usual Style (Diamonds of London #10)

Oh, dear Lord.

Tori’s heartbeat hammered as she and the handsome stranger slipped into the garden.

She only knew him by sight, for she’d been in the drawing room when he’d entered with a woman who’d been introduced as his fiancée.

Why the Earl of Greystone would take an interest in the necklace allegedly belonging to Marie Antoinette, she had no idea, but he hadn’t relinquished his grip around her wrist.

“Where are we going?” she managed to whisper as the earl kept to the shadows but didn’t move far from the library doors.

Why of all nights did Lord Dawson remember he had this piece and want to show it off to friends?

And drat it all, had her father been the one to wish to see it if the conversation had got ‘round to jewels? That was entirely possible, because he couldn’t help himself, and he was unable to resist once the topic came to gems.

“I don’t know yet, but I wish to understand what we’re up against, so hush.

” As he spoke, he pressed her further backward into the clinging darkness until the brickwork of the house prevented continued movement.

“I’m going back inside—briefly to reconnoiter—but you need to promise you won’t run off. ”

She snorted. “I am not going to promise you that since I’m the one standing here with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds in my bodice.” In fact, some of the stones pressed into her breasts, and they were quite cold and oddly comforting.

When he flicked his gaze to her décolletage, heat rose in her cheeks. “Which was your decision. Perhaps you won’t do something so rash and irresponsible the next time.”

“Irresponsible? That is quite an assumption to make.” She glared at him. “I have a feeling you are a prick, Your Lordship.”

His eyebrows shot upward into his hairline, and she had the odd question of whether his chestnut hair was soft or coarse. “Now who is the one making assumptions? If you only knew what I have struggled with—still do—in my life, you wouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

“Ha.” As much as she wanted to put her hands back on his chest and perhaps explore that deliciously hard expanse of his form, she refrained.

Under no circumstances could she let her curiosity or his mystery distract her from her mission of theft.

“Just admit that what you said wasn’t very gentlemanly.

You know me not at all, have no idea of what motivates me.

” She pushed off the wall. Why was it so important that she tell him what kind of woman she was?

They were strangers, for goodness’ sake. “In fact, I—”

“Good Lord, woman, stop talking!” Annoyance went through his command seconds before his arms came about her, and he covered her lips with his, effectively stemming her stream of words.

Surprise flew through her chest, both at the effrontery of this man and that the kiss had caught her off guard. But as kisses went, it was decent enough yet hardly an introduction and certainly didn’t inspire passion.

Except… his lips cradled hers in a way that had her craving a more in-depth kiss, and the heat of him, the feeling of being trapped between the wall and his chest released a host of tingles through her lower belly.

And that tiny hint of brandy on his mouth oddly made her wish to explore further, to chase that intriguing taste.

What is wrong with me?

She raised her gaze to his as he looked at her, and she pulled back in an effort to read his expression.

Though it was slightly comforting to see the same shock in his eyes, it was also disconcerting that he didn’t seem in the least bit guilty to have kissed someone who wasn’t his fiancée.

With an almost inaudible sigh of regret, Tori thrust away the thought of kissing him back, merely to experience the feel of his lips on hers again.

This is wrong.

Was he the philandering sort, then? Why would he willingly kiss a woman while he was engaged to another?

Not knowing, and in solidarity for his poor fiancée who might or might not know of his wandering eye, Tori pushed him away then raised a hand and gave his cheek a good slap.

The sound of her glove hitting his flesh seemed overly loud in the silence of the garden.

Dear heavens, I’ve assaulted an earl.

Immediately, he stumbled back a few steps with a hand to his cheek. “What the devil was that for?” he hissed then moved them both further from the library doors.

“On principle,” she managed to eek out.

“What the hell does that mean?”

How could she speak when the taste of him lingered on her lips and the warmth of his kiss left queer little tingles dancing through her lower belly?

Then she cleared her throat. Of course, she needed to explain.

“Are you not the Earl of Greystone?” Her chest heaved, which only made the diamonds press more urgently against her skin.

Surprise jumped into his eyes. “Yes, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

“It has everything to do with what just happened!” The whispered words were a bit hissed as her aggravation grew. “Are you not engaged to be married soon?” One of her eyebrows rose in challenge.

“I am, but—”

She chopped the air with a hand. Her reticule dangled from her wrist. Why the devil had she not put the necklace into her bag?

Because he’d startled her and scattered her thoughts…

and continued to do so. Why did he have to smell so delicious?

Hints of citrus, sage, and the veriest note of leather teased her nose.

Would it be bad form to drift closer to him and give him a sniff?

Focus, Tori! “Yet you kissed me . Such a sacred thing should be reserved for your fiancée.” At least that was what she’d always thought.

“That is not for you to say. For that matter, trust me when I tell you that Lady Sarah will not mind.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“Why?”

“Why not? If I were engaged to a man of your looks and position, I would mind very much indeed that you were galivanting about, kissing other women.” Why did she feel the need to tell him that?

The heat of embarrassment went through her cheeks.

“Pardon the plain speaking. It’s a habit I’ve fallen into in recent years. ”

“Interesting, but since I know you not at all, I have no idea if you are telling me the truth, and if you are, I don’t suppose it matters.

” Though he seemed a bit flustered, he didn’t lose control of his person.

Lucky man, him. She wished she could be as stoic, for giving in to emotions had often been her downfall.

“But to answer your previous question of why did I kiss you? Because you keep talking. It’s a character flaw, surely, to babble on like that when it’s clear you should be doing something else entirely.

” Aggravation was evident in his voice. “How the hell else was I to silence you?”

How, indeed. “Well, I, um, you could have asked, and—”

“I did ask, and you ignored the command,” the earl continued with his hands resting on narrow hips, which only called her attention to how flat his abdomen was beneath the waistcoat in autumnal colors and embroidery.

Her mind skittered to the thought that he would probably look delicious sans clothing…

He is not for you.

She nodded. “Possibly because it was a command. I am not a private in the military, Your Lordship. You would do well to remember that.”

For one lovely second, she thought he might grin, but she was destined for disappointment, for while the corners of his lips twitched, that movement didn’t materialize into a full smile.

“Fair enough.” They stood staring at each other for the space of a few heartbeats.

Finally, he tugged at the knot of his cravat.

“I am Montague Mountjoy, the Earl of Greystone, by the way.”

“I know. We have already established this.”

“Wrong. Yours was an assumption.”

“That you confirmed.”

A huff of annoyance escaped him. “You may refer to me as Greystone or Grey.”

“What a lovely name Montague is.” It felt intimate and cozy on her tongue, but she didn’t wish to stoke his ire by repeating it.

“Grey will suffice, thank you.” Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to converse or even maintain a polite connection.

“It’s too bad you don’t like your Christian name.”

“I never said that.”

“You certainly act like it.”

He huffed. Again. “Enough.”

She nodded. “Since you have apparently forgotten how to act polite, my name is Victoria. Miss Amherst, rather, but my closest friends refer to me as Tori. I’m the daughter of Baron Irvington.”

Once more, he frowned. “Why the devil would you let anyone shorten your name so horribly?”

“Oh, I…” She shrugged. “I never gave it much thought. What is wrong with Tori? Is it not endearing?”

“It is not. At least to me, and there is nothing wrong with it on the surface, but it can’t hold a candle to the word Victoria. That has a beautiful and majestic ring to it. Elegant, really. If I were you, I’d tell those in your circle to start using your given name.”

Before she could respond or even analyze her reaction to those words, a loud shout from within the library had him pressing her backward against the wall of the house and further into the shadows.

“Damn it all to hell,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath skated over her cheek.

“Who is it?” she asked in a whisper, but what she really wanted to do was melt against this man’s chest, and that was surprising for she hadn’t felt that way about anyone since her fiancé died.

Perhaps I’m merely overwrought.

“Lord Dawson, definitely, and someone else whose voice I don’t recognize.”