His Wicked Charm. Candace Camp

for Sabrina’s wedding, Lilah had become friends with the Morelands, as well. All the Morelands had returned for the wedding, along with their spouses and broods of children. It made for an occasionally chaotic environment, but one that was always entertaining and congenial.

      There had been any number of lively conversations with the duchess, ranging over a host of topics, and though Lilah and the very forward-thinking Duchess of Broughton had disagreed from time to time, their discussions were invigorating and even enlightening. Megan told entertaining stories about her years of reporting and traveling the world with her husband, Theo Moreland. Kyria, vibrant and warm, was almost impossible not to like—as were the duke and his diminutive uncle Bellard, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge once one got him started.

      Thisbe, Theo’s twin, was a scientist who spent much of her time in her laboratory working on things Lilah neither understood nor, really, cared to understand. But Thisbe was also possessed of a dry wit and an easy, outgoing nature much like her twin’s, and Anna, Reed Moreland’s wife, was a quiet spot of serenity amid the noisy bustle of activity at Broughton House.

      Lilah had especially come to like Olivia, the youngest of the Moreland daughters. Olivia, though she shared with Constantine an odd interest in the occult, was as devoted a reader as Lilah, and once they discovered their mutual interest in books of mystery and danger, they had spent many a pleasant afternoon chatting.

      The days since the wedding had seemed quite empty. Lilah hadn’t any reason to visit Broughton House. Without her friend Sabrina there, it seemed a bit presumptuous to make a social call at the house of a duke, at least until they had called on her. Lilah would hate to be thought a social climber.

      Worse…what if Con were at home? What if he thought Lilah was there in the hopes of seeing him? Given the way she had behaved the other night—it made her blush even to think of it—he would be justified in assuming she was setting her cap for him. Nothing could be further from the truth of course. Lilah would never pursue any man, much less someone like Con. He would be the last person she would want to marry—not that he would ever ask someone like her.

      Con probably thought it was funny that such a prim and proper woman as Lilah had acted so unlike herself. He knew she had been about to kiss him. No doubt he would tease her about it. He would laugh, that rich, warm laughter that made one want to join him, his lips curving up and his eyes lighting with mischief. It was most unfair that his teasing made him even more attractive.

      That was the root of the whole problem with Constantine Moreland—he was so utterly appealing. Lilah liked the straight black slashes of his eyebrows—the way they lifted when he was amused or drew together fiercely when he frowned. She had more than once felt a strange desire to reach out and smooth a finger along one of them. His eyes were such a sharp green, darkened by that thick row of black lashes. Those cheekbones, that jaw, that chin. That mouth. Thank goodness she had always had firm control of herself and had kept such thoughts hidden.

      But then she had destroyed all her efforts by going out onto the terrace with him. Standing there in that dark secluded corner with him, a situation so intimate, so warm, so ripe for seduction. Turning her face up for his kiss. If only she hadn’t drunk that champagne. If only he hadn’t asked her to dance.

      No. She must not call at Broughton House, even if she could come up with a good reason to do so. She should settle back into her normal life. It might take a bit of time, but she would become accustomed to it. Being around the Morelands had been exciting. Entertaining. But that wasn’t how Lilah lived. She was not flamboyant; she didn’t crave adventure and excitement; she wasn’t driven by wild uncontrollable passion. All she had ever wanted was a quiet, pleasant, rational life. The sort of life she had.

      Lilah gave a little nod of her head, feeling a bit as if she had won an argument. She glanced over at Aunt Helena, whose head was bent over her embroidery. Lilah was forcibly reminded of Con’s comment about spending her days on embroidery.

      “Do you need anything done?” Lilah asked. “Is there an errand I might run for you?”

      Aunt Helena looked up and smiled. She was a small, neat woman, her blond hair now touched with gray at the temples. Lilah felt an upwelling of affection. Aunt Helena had welcomed her and raised her, and Lilah could never repay her for that. It was no easy task to take on a girl of twelve and guide her into womanhood, to train her in proper behavior and the ins and outs of society. Con might sneer about mundane things like needlework—and, frankly, Lilah was not fond of embroidering either—but there was nothing wrong with spending one’s time that way. And her aunt’s work was excellent.

      “Oh, no, dear, no need for that. Cuddington has gone to the apothecary to pick up my tonic, and Mrs. Humphrey has the house in order as always. Why don’t we discuss our calls this afternoon?”

      Calls weren’t what Lilah had in mind to relieve tedium. They were tedious, more often than not. But Lilah held back her sigh. Making and receiving calls was a fact of life.

      “I thought we would go early in the afternoon,” Aunt Helena said. “That way we’ll be back by the time Sir Jasper comes.”

      “Sir Jasper is visiting us this afternoon?” Lilah asked in some dismay. “He was here just two days ago.”

      “Well, of course, I don’t know he’ll call on you.” Aunt Helena gave her a small, conspiratorial smile. “But given his recent behavior…”

      Her aunt had hopes that Sir Jasper had matrimony in mind. Unfortunately, Lilah suspected she was right. She wished Aunt Helena would not encourage the man. But she had no desire to get into a discussion of that, so she said only, “Who were you thinking of visiting?”

      “Mrs. Blythe, of course, to thank her for that lovely little dinner party last night. And it’s been some time since we’ve called on Mrs. Pierce.” Lilah couldn’t hold back a small groan at that name, and her aunt smiled. “Yes, I know, dear. Elspeth Pierce is a dreadful gossip. But that’s exactly why one mustn’t get on her bad side.”

      “I suppose.” She didn’t really mind the woman’s gossiping; it was the insipidity of her conversation that wore on Lilah’s nerves. But her aunt was right; when Mrs. Pierce took a dislike to one, she was deadly.

      “I really should call on the vicar’s wife,” Helena continued. “But their daughter is ill, so that will excuse us from that.”

      “It seems visiting people shouldn’t be such…a chore.”

      Aunt Helena smiled. “It would be nice. But we cannot shirk one’s social obligations, can we?”

      Lilah thought somewhat resentfully that the Morelands seemed to be able to do so easily enough. But, of course, Lilah wouldn’t want to be viewed as the Morelands were. She cast about for something to occupy her until this afternoon’s calls.

      “Perhaps I shall go to the bookstore first.” Lilah popped up from the sofa as a sudden thought occurred to her. “On my way, I can drop off a book for Lady St. Leger. I have a Wilkie Collins she has not read yet, and I promised to lend it to her.” Olivia wanted the book; it wouldn’t be rude or out of place to visit the Morelands as long as she had a reason. Indeed, the proper behavior would be to take the book to Olivia, as Lilah had promised. And there was no reason to worry about running into Con; he was doubtless off on one of his adventures.

      “Lady St. Leger?” Her aunt’s forehead wrinkled a bit. “Do I know her?”

      “She’s one of Sabrina’s sisters-in-law. She and her family came to stay at Broughton House for the wedding.”

      Her aunt’s frown grew. “One of the Morelands? Dear, do you think that’s wise?”

      “I promised, Aunt Helena. I can hardly ignore a promise.” Lilah was feeling more cheerful by the moment. It would be good to see Olivia again, to have a nice long chat about books. Much as she loved and respected her aunt, Helena was not a reader. Maybe Kyria would be there, too. Or the duchess.

      “Of course not,” her aunt agreed reluctantly. “I just thought now that the wedding is