“I hope that I did not mislead you in thinking that I wished for more than a short stroll. Given your reputation, I can understand why you may make such an assumption from a widow. However, I have another intention for wishing to speak with you away from my family.”
He turned fully toward her; the corner of his mouth tipped as if in anticipation of a proposition.
“You shall not pursue either of my sisters.”
His smile slipped slightly.
“I have heard that you intend to wed. I will not permit either of my sisters to marry a rake.”
Warm humor filled his eyes as he leaned in. “They say reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
This time she chuckled. “There is no such thing as a reformed rake. They simply wish Society to believe such exist, like a child believes in fairies.”
“What if I wish to pursue you instead?”
Octavia sucked in a breath. “To what purpose?”
If possible, his eyes turned nearly black. “I am a rake, as you say. You are a widow, so why do you think?”
The intensity in his dark eyes heated her blood and her body responded almost immediately. Her breasts tightened and heat pooled low in her belly. Such had never happened so quickly before, and he had not even touched her.
Perhaps Lord Bolton was the lover she needed, or the very one she should avoid.
Angelo had planned on coming to know her better before making such a proposition, but there was just something about Lady Kepple that taunted the primal urges within. He wanted her.
“Are you propositioning me?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” he answered honestly.
“I find it rather presumptuous that because I am a widow you assume that I would be seeking a lover.”
He had to bite back the confession that he knew for a fact that she was. “Are you not?” he countered. Would she lie to him?
“I believe what I may or may not be seeking this Season is no concern of yours.”
Angelo frowned. He had truly hoped that when she asked for a stroll that it would be for a discussion of an assignation. Unless she was simply being coy. If Lady Kepple wished to make a game out of pursuit, Angelo was willing to go along as the capture in the end would be all the sweeter.
“You truly wished only to speak with me?” he asked with suspicion, and disappointment.
“Yes. I will not allow either of them to marry someone of your reputation.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“A leopard cannot change his spots, nor can a rake change his nature or character.”
He opened his mouth to argue but paused to consider why she would say such. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a flash of pain in her eyes before she rebuked him. Couple that with what he had overheard, Angelo was beginning to believe that Lord Kepple had been a true arse.
“I apologize for any insult,” he offered. “However, I can assure you that when I do take a bride, I will remain faithful until I kick up my toes.”
“I am certain that is your intention, but how soon before you grow bored?” she countered.
“Whether I grow bored or not, it will not matter. Any vow and promise I have ever made has never been broken.”
Lady Kepple studied him for the longest moment. “I apologize, Lord Bolton, but I cannot encourage either of my younger sisters to allow your pursuit of them.”
With those words, she turned from him; Angelo reached out and grasped her elbow.
She glanced at his hand in censure then up into his eyes.
