His Wicked Charm. Candace Camp

To know what is merely attraction, merely desire—” that was Con Moreland “—and what is true feeling.” That was, well, she wasn’t sure, for she had never felt it for any man.

      “Of course you’re not shallow. But you are young, and you have been influenced by the romance of Sabrina’s wedding. But no one knows how that will end. You have seen only the excitement. There’s a great deal more to life than that. A marriage needs a strong foundation—a suitable match of name and bloodline. A similarity of spirit. A husband who can provide and protect you, who is steady and high-minded. One of irreproachable reputation.”

      It sounded, Lilah thought, like a dull sort of marriage. But it was the kind her aunt herself had, so Lilah could hardly disparage it. She smiled and said teasingly, “Aunt Helena, you are going to make me think you want to get me off your hands.”

      Helena smiled fondly. “You know I would keep you with me forever if I thought only of myself. Your uncle would say the same. But I want what’s best for you. I want you to have a good, happy life and a husband who can give you that.”

      “I know. I love you for it.” Aunt Helena, having no children, looked upon Lilah as her own daughter, and she was the closest thing Lilah had to a mother, her own having died when Lilah was young.

      Perhaps her aunt was right. Maybe it was foolish to hope to find love, to give a man her heart and hold the same from him. She wasn’t even sure that love was something she was capable of. She’d never felt even a twinge of it for any of the young men with whom she had danced and conversed.

      Maybe she should be practical. Find a man who embodied the qualities she admired, who was, as Aunt Helena said, steady and like-minded. Surely that would be better than falling into the trap her father had, holding his sad obsessive love to his heart all his life. Her aunt and uncle were happy in their marriage. As one grew old, it might be nicer to have a man to sit with by the fire than one who had made your heart beat faster.

      But then she thought of Sabrina’s face lighting up when Alex walked in. Or how Kyria and Rafe would look at each other across the room, as if no one else existed. The way the duke, after almost fifty years of marriage, still gazed at the duchess as if he’d just been given the most wonderful gift in the world. The thought of such love made her giddy. And terrified.

      It was what she wanted. However fond of her aunt she was, Lilah was not going to marry anyone because it was appropriate or suitable. Still, she must be polite. Sorry that she had been irritated with Aunt Helena, Lilah decided that she would even do her best to see Sir Jasper’s worthy qualities.

      For that reason, an hour later she was sitting in the parlor, wearing the dark russet gown with the wasp waist and the puffed sleeves, as her aunt greeted Sir Jasper.

      Her distant cousin was a nice-looking gentleman, and if his figure was not an imposing one, at least he was taller than she, which was more than she could say for her other suitor, Mr. Tilden. It was, she supposed, shallow of her that she could not marry a man to whom she must look down to speak. If only Sir Jasper smiled more or didn’t talk in such a ponderous manner or if he made her laugh now and then, she might be able to think of him in a more romantic way.

      “Sir Jasper.” Lilah rose and smiled in a carefully modulated way—polite, but not too friendly, not too glad to see him. She would give him a chance, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

      “Please, you must call me Jasper. We are related after all.” He gave her a stiff smile and bowed.

      And that, Lilah thought, was the extent of Sir Jasper’s sense of humor. Her own smile grew more forced. “Yes, of course, Cousin Jasper.”

      He frowned faintly at this reminder of their kinship, however distant, but said only, “Cousin Delilah.”

      Lilah’s worst fears were realized when, after a few minutes of polite conversation, Aunt Helena excused herself from the room and went in search of her missing needlework. Lilah knew she was clearing the way for Sir Jasper to propose.

      Quickly, before her visitor could speak, Lilah said, “I hope the work on your house is proceeding well. I believe you said the banister was suffering from woodworms.”

      Sir Jasper looked a trifle taken aback at her choice of topic but said, “Yes. I hope to show it to you one day.”

      “I suppose it will be an extensive project.” She wondered how long she could keep a conversation going about the renovation of a house she had never seen and had no interest in.

      “I am sure it will.” He cleared his throat. “Delilah. I believe you must be aware that I hold you in high esteem.”

      “Thank you,” Lilah interrupted, desperately trying to think of a way to stave off his next words. With relief, she heard the sound of the front door opening and the butler’s voice. Perhaps she would be rescued by another caller; at this point, she would welcome Mr. Tilden.

      There were footsteps and the butler appeared in the doorway, saying with great pride, “Lord Moreland.”

      “Con!” Lilah jumped to her feet, smiling. There could be no greater disruption to any scene than Con Moreland.