Seductive Deception

Chapter 11

Allegra plopped the copy of Le Follet on the countertop and pulled the bell pull, waiting patiently for Mrs. Wheelwright to hobble in from the backroom. She hadn't had the chance to return on Tuesday, having spent the majority of her day sewing a new skirt for Mary Ellen, fixing a bodice for Myra, a pair of trousers for one of Effy's sons, and patching a pair of stockings for Barrett, all while spending the evening with Ad—Lord Whittington.

She'd been reiterating that he was not Morgan to her anymore. He was Lord Whittington. And even if she were only referring to him in her mind, it would do her good to remember he was no longer the Morgan of her past and, instead, the new earl of Whittington. Untouchable. Taboo. Forbidden.

They'd had three visits since their initial meeting—evading any discussion about their near-kiss in the polygon— and yet Allegra excitedly awaited the next, despite the growing alarm, the warning that she knew none of this could end like the fairytale vision from her youth.

"Gentlemen should always be introduced to a lady by a mutual friend or acquaintance, and only when the lady in question has permitted that she'd like to be introduced. And," she put a finger up, "If you are required to make introductions, add something of value before your introduction."

"It appears not all society has gone to hell when I was away?"

"Not all," she quipped.

"Would you like to be introduced?"

"I'm not a lady—"

He waved her off. "Would you like to be introduced...to me?"

Allegra looked from side to side; forehead crinkled beneath her mask. "We have no one here to introduce us, and we are not friends."

"Use your imagination, Madam Cerise." One side of his mouth kicked up, and Allegra wondered if he knew how ridiculously handsome he was when he gave that crooked smile. Or how the glow from the candlelight cascaded over his features— his long, straight nose, his defined jawline, the two dark slashes of eyebrows that expressed his innermost thoughts? She took a shuttered breath as heat flushed her cheeks. Once again, the privileges of her mask were a boon.

"If I am forced to use my imagination," Allegra teased, "then I would introduce you as such" she pressed a hand distinguishably to her chest and attempted to appear as stern as possible, "I am pleased to announce my esteemed associate, Lord Whittington."

He bowed to her, the table forcing them to make shallow gestures as he raised a brow in her direction, a challenge. "That's all you got?"

She laughed.

"I am honored to introduce the lovely Lady Scarlett, a jewel of inestimable value," he replied, his brow raised higher in triumph, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Her heart caught in her throat at the title. Lady. When had someone called her that last? But it wasn't what she'd wanted to hear. Call me by my name. Call me by the name only you know. Call me Aggie. No one else in the entire world called me that besides you.

"It's...pleasant."

"Are you humoring me, Madam Cerise?" he asked, leaning an elbow on his knees as he studied her.

She grinned, and he smiled back, thoroughly enjoying their tit-for-tat, a growing familiarity between them that bordered suspiciously along the lines of desire, a seed planted but not cultivated to grow, forced to remain forever underground.

"It could use some work," she jested.

He met her eyes in the golden glow of the candlelight, and she sucked in a breath, the humor evaporating from the room.