Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers

if her rider wasn’t careful enough to keep a firm rein, she might suddenly decide she wanted her head. The resemblance was there too in the way this young woman held her head; in her slate-dark gypsy eyes, and the very slight flare of her delicately formed nostrils. She was a rare find indeed, and a real prize for any man lucky enough to take her before anyone else did—and tame her.

      Lord Charles masked his thoughts with an engaging grin as he said: “What man could possibly mind talking about himself? Although I must warn you that once you get me started you might have to promise me the dance after this one and a few more afterwards as well—unless I succeed in boring you too quickly! And as for exciting adventures, I find myself forced to admit that I have not been fortunate enough yet…If you are really interested in hearing tales of that kind, you should ask my newly-discovered and very distant cousin whom I had traveled all the way to the North American continent to find, and finally did so in one of the former Spanish colonies there. I believe, though, they broke away from Spain and transferred their allegiance to Mexico several years ago. Am I confusing you?”

      “No, at least not yet!” Alexa said with a shake of her head and a dimpled smile. “But you have succeeded in fascinating me, for I have always longed to find out more about the Americas.”

      “Well then…on condition that you promise to interrupt me as soon as I begin to bore you…” Lord Charles continued in the same light tone he had adopted earlier. “I hardly know where to begin, without sounding like a geography tutor, you know. But this ex-province of Spain is called California, and I found the style of living there different from anything I have experienced in Europe—or anywhere else, for that matter. It is a mixture of wildness and freedom and feudalism—a huge, vast land that has hardly been mapped yet; where the great landowners think nothing of owning hundreds and thousands of acres; can you imagine that? My cousin’s father was a sea captain from Boston in the United States of America who happened to anchor in one of the California ports to trade for hides and tallow. There he met a pretty Spanish girl of gentle birth—an heiress, I believe—whose family was and still is ranked among the richest and most influential in that part of the world. Why, I was feted and entertained there in the most lavish and generous style imaginable! It’s a lush and promising land with all the extremes of climate you could possibly imagine, from snow-capped mountains to burning desert and ocean. In fact, I might have been tempted to stay there myself except that there are also great, furious bears that stand tall enough to dwarf a man, and predatory mountain lions—not to mention fierce Indian tribes. Not being the kind to thrive on danger and adventure like my cousin, I must confess that I decided to settle for Europe and the tameness of civilization instead; and the only adventures I can relate, therefore, are secondhand. I hope I have not made you despise me!”

      “Of course not!” Alexa responded quickly. She flashed him a smile before saying lightly: “I daresay adventures are all very well to read about and hear about, but to actually live in constant peril must be a very different thing and not what one could call exciting at all. I hope this distant cousin of yours lives in a safe part of California, for his sake.”

      “Oh, I managed to persuade Nicholas to come to England with me, and you’ll meet him later on, I’m sure. He’s taking a promenade with the Governor and is involved in some deep discussion with him. But I should warn you, I suppose, that he is not an easy man to understand! He is somewhat of a cynic, and has a rather abrupt manner, besides being completely indifferent to what anyone may think of him. In fact, I can hardly wait to see what London society makes of him!” Lord Charles gave a rather boyish chuckle before continuing: “What a great lark that should be! Although you must not think he is some half-civilized colonial from my rather forbidding description, Miss Howard. Nicholas can adopt a polished air when he chooses to, and he has traveled in Europe before. But when we were in London together this time…” Lord Charles broke off suddenly, realizing he had monopolized the entire conversation, and that the dance was almost over, before he could ask Miss Howard if she would be his partner for the light buffet supper that would be served later. “I say, I really am sorry for going on and on,” he exclaimed ruefully, and shook his head at Alexa with a smile. “It must be your fault, Miss Howard, for being such a good listener.”

      Miss Alexandra Howard, who, he learned, preferred to be called “Alexa” by her friends, had begun to interest Lord Charles more and more as the evening progressed. According to his mother’s friend Mrs. Mackenzie, she was accounted an excellent shot and an accomplished horsewoman; and actually enjoyed reading books, in addition to being fluent in at least five languages. And yet, she was certainly no bluestocking either. So far, he had not managed to discover any flaws in her—a fact surprising in itself, the Viscount (who considered himself quite blasé when it came to women) could not help thinking.

      Lord Charles did not have to pretend that he was delighted when Miss Howard accepted his escort for the brief intermission, during which a cold supper was served for the benefit of those who wished to avail themselves of the enormous variety of dishes arranged on long, damask-covered tables that had been set up against one wall. All the more so because he saw an opportunity at last to remove her from under the eagle eye of that forbidding-looking aunt of hers, and from the assiduous attentions of all the other men who flocked about her.

      Small groupings of tables and chairs had been arranged on one of the wide, covered galleries that overlooked the lush gardens, with pretty colored lanterns hung everywhere to add to the beauty of the warm, perfumed night and create an atmosphere of intimacy as well. Softly treading servants dressed in the scarlet and white livery of Queen’s House carried silver trays bearing tall-stemmed glasses filled with chilled champagne and white wine among the throng of guests, and it seemed as though no sooner was a glass drained than another was being proffered by one of the ever-present servants. Alexa had been allowed to drink an occasional glass of wine or dry sherry at home after she had passed her sixteenth birthday, but she had never taken a drink in public before, and now she wondered—did she dare? She had inspected the buffet because she thought Lord Charles, having missed dinner, might be hungry; but although the thought of food did not tempt her in the least, Alexa could not help looking quite longingly at the sparkling glasses of champagne that were constantly being offered to her. What if she were to take one?

      As if he had read her thoughts Lord Charles said suddenly: “Have you ever tried champagne, Miss Howard? No? But then of course you must—especially on the occasion of your eighteenth birthday.” Without waiting for a reply he took two glasses off one of the trays, his eyes twinkling down at Alexa as he lowered his voice to say: “And if you are worried that you might not be approved of, allow me to tell you that ladies in the very highest social circles in London—and all over Europe, for that matter—sip the bubbly, as it is called; and it is quite acceptable. You could say, if you were questioned, that you could not refuse to respond to the toast I proposed without appearing rude, couldn’t you?” And then, teasingly, “Well, are you game? Please say you are.”

      Accepting the glass he handed her, Alexa could not help but laugh at the rather audacious way he had teased her into it. “And the toast, Lord Charles? Just in case I am asked?”

      “The only toast that no loyal British subject could refuse, naturally. To the Queen—and her forthcoming marriage!”

      A lady could not drain her glass off in one swallow, but she could take rather large sips once she had begun to acquire a taste for champagne, couldn’t she?

      “Do you think you like champagne?” Lord Charles had prompted after Alexa had taken a few sips of that first glass.

      “I like its dryness! I remember reading one of Papa’s books once that was all about wines and different vintages and where the best wines come from. It’s the effervescence—all those little bubbles—that take getting used to at first, I suppose; although I daresay that with enough practice one would no longer notice.”

      By the time she had drained a second glass of champagne and found herself holding a third, Alexa wondered, with a sudden return to caution, how Lord Charles had managed to maneuver her out through the French doors and onto the gallery. She must be careful or she would spoil everything, and Aunt Harriet would be disgusted with her.

      Alexa had turned to place her back against the