The Royal Conquest(15)

There, I have immortalized my scandalous thoughts. He has crumbled the disinterest I had formed in courtship. He is a mister, a man of affairs of sorts to Calydon, so mother and father would never approve of me walking with him, yet I desire to. The knowledge he would have no expectation of strict behavior and this ridiculous notion of ladylike propriety from me, is so refreshing and tempting. He invited me to a picnic, and I eagerly consented. Now I doubt my actions. What would be the purpose of walking with someone our parents would never approve of? I will also admit the knowledge that I will turn twenty-one in several months has been hovering. If I were to really form an attachment with Mr. Konstantinovich I could eventually marry him without Father’s consent. I would hate to disappoint them so, and I may be getting ahead of myself. In fact, mayhap it was our unusual situation that has led me to believe he is charming.

Though I find him interesting, there is also a deeper dread slowly rearing its head. What if beneath the surface of his handsomeness he is just as callous and unfeeling as Lord Jensen? I had thought I would have only been leery of someone belonging to the haute monde, however, it seems men in general have gained my mistrust.

I fear I am rambling.

On to other news. I have started a new story which I hope to gift to the twins. I am quite aware they will not be able to read it, so please quit rolling your eyes. But when they are older, they will know this wonderful story, of a brother and sister flying on dragons to save the kingdom of Gruyn, was written for them.

I wish you and Lord Anthony would visit Sherring Cross. You are missing the twins’ rapid growth, and our dear sister Phoebe is blossoming too fast. She turns sixteen in a few weeks and she eagerly speaks of having a season. She needs your guidance as well, for we know how treacherous those waters can be. If I do not see you in the next couple of weeks, I will resolve to steal away for a visit without Mama and Aunt Florence.

Your sister, Payton

With efficient motions she folded the paper, sealed it in an envelope, and scrawled directions for it to be delivered to her sister’s country home. Rushing from her chamber, Payton descended the winding staircase to the lower floors. Thankfully, it was early enough that the halls were empty of guests. Leaving the letter on the mantel, she turned in the direction of the parlor.

She would walk with Mikhail in the afternoon. She tried to rein in the wash of anticipation. The sensations he’d made her feel were unlike any Payton had ever known. And the blasted man had not even stolen a kiss. Lord Jensen had kissed her several times, and she had never felt feverish.

Nearing the parlor, she faltered. She’d had a thought about Lord Jensen that had not left her heart clenching in discomfort. But it did direct her attention to the matter at hand and away from a tempting blue-eyed devil. She had not been able to enter her chamber earlier without being seen.

Aunt Florence had been waiting in Payton’s chamber with a list of all eligible gentlemen present at Sherring Cross. The paper held each man’s name, their respective title, and an estimation of their annual income. Shock and distaste had filled Payton, and her objection to the list had been smothered by her aunt’s distress at seeing Payton bedraggled and swaddled in a blanket. It had been hellacious reassuring her aunt nothing had happened. It had been tempting to speak a lie, and say she had been in the cottage alone, but she’d not wanted to risk the truth coming out somehow.

She was now walking to meet her mother as if she were heading to the guillotine. Maybe she should have bent the truth. Upon reaching the parlor, she gripped the doorknob, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep breath. Soft footsteps sounded in the foyer, and she lifted her eyes in their direction.

Mikhail.

His gaze flicked over her in a quick assessment, and she swore his blue eyes darkened. Yet he did not slow his stride or acknowledge her, except for a slow quirk of his lips and a wink. Startling delight suffused her, and for some reason it felt natural to return a slow wink. An acknowledgment of their scandalous encounter.

Then an expression of utter shock settled on his face. Was it because he winked, or because she responded in kind?

A gentle clearing of throat tore her gaze away from him, to see the duke.

Where did he come from?

Heat crawled up her neck. Obviously they had been discussing business matters in the duke’s office. She needed to acclimatize herself to the idea of Mikhail’s presence in the main house, considering he was one of the duke’s men of affairs. Sebastian’s impenetrable gaze shifted between her and Mikhail before he greeted her.

“Your Grace,” she murmured with a quick smile, then wrenched the door open, escaping into the parlor.