Seductive Deception

Chapter 24

Allegra raced out of Pennington's ballroom as fast as her legs could carry her and, by some miracle, found an empty hackney waiting on the corner of nearby cross streets. She sunk into the seats and closed the shades, grateful she was shielded from the outside world.

She tossed a few coins in the coach's direction before they set off toward the dower house.

She should have been more careful. She should have known better.

No one was going to accept her there. Not for who she was and certainly not for who she was now. And she'd gone through too much, grown too much to turn her back on the people who truly mattered in her life.

And she would be ok with all of that if not for Morgan.

She cracked the door to the dower house and fought back the tears. This place she'd often seen as a sanctuary was cold, dark, and empty. She hugged her hands to her chest, shivering, as she searched the ledge of the mantlepiece, finally alighting on a matchbox. She lit a tallow candle, tossing logs and scraps of cord she'd used for tinder into the fireplace. She sat crossed-legged on the hearth rug, rubbing her hands and holding them near the flames for warmth.

As she watched the flames ebb and flow, casting their warm orange glow on the surroundings, she finally allowed her shoulders to sink, pressing her knees into her chest as she curled into herself, rocking.

Hot tears sprang in her eyes, and they spilled down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away with a flick of her hand.

It was quiet. The only sound was the crackle and pop of fire until she heard the door crack open.

She leaped up, her breath catching as she tried to sound confident. "Whose there?"

"It's me."

Morgan.

He stepped into the light, shutting the door behind him, and she took a deep breath, her body loosening.

He looked ridiculously handsome, perhaps even more so, as his hair was disheveled from their love-making, the warm flush of his skin not yet faded. And part of her clung to that idea, the raw sensual and primitive idea that she'd had something to do with it.

She swallowed, grumbling as she forced herself to look away.

"How did you find me?"

"I didn't know where else to look," he admitted, "may I?" He waved to a sofa. Allegra nodded.

She sat on a sofa across from him, reminiscent of their earlier, less-complicated meetings.

They sat for a while in silence, listening to the soft crackle of the wood in the fireplace, the scent of hearth fire thick in the air.

Morgan leaned forward; his fingers pressed together.

"I didn't see you leave. Strickland came to inform me about—" he shifted gears, "I went to find Tess and returned to a mass of chaos."

"And you discovered it was all about me." she sighed.

He nodded.

"Why did you leave?"

She sucked air in and huffed a humorless laugh as she pressed her hands to her chest. "Why did I leave? Were you not there, Lord Whittington?"

His dark eyes burned into her. "Don't call me that."

"But that's just it; that's who you are. And this," she ran a hand down her body, "is who I am. I am not ashamed of that."

"Good," he shouted back, "neither am I."