Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
How the hell was he going to survive?
Chapter Twelve
Rosamunde smiled into the fur lining the new cloak she wore as they waited outside the opera house for the rest of the party to join them. She shouldn’t feel such a way, but for the first—okay, second—time in her life she believed she was beautiful.
Keely stood beside her chatting easily with her mother as the men neared them. Rosamunde skimmed her gaze over the approaching males. Lord Heartstone walked beside his father, the Duke of Stokley, who didn’t look too well but that didn’t stop him from being out. Behind them a tiny bit walked Falcon and Bryn.
It was safer for her to keep her eyes on Falcon. His nearness didn’t make her lose her breath or forget how to speak simple words.
Behind those two friends, she observed a man who could only be Falcon’s father. The similarities were obvious, even in the flickering lights from around them. If Falcon took after his father as he aged, Keely was going to be a lucky woman. Attached at his elbow walked a woman who embodied a regal poise Rosamunde was immediately jealous of.
Keely and her mother—she couldn’t call her Ciara no matter how much she insisted—paused in their conversation and hurried to the couple. Rosamunde dug her fingers into the wrap she wore as they hugged one another.
Fraud.
Her brain launched the word at her with unrelenting precision.
You don’t belong here. Certainly not with them.
All her old insecurities rose swiftly. Perhaps not so old after all. Clutching her fingers more tightly inside the cloak, she took one shuffle step backward only to pause when Falcon’s eyes lit up at the sight of her.
Or at least that’s how she took it. He lengthened his stride and got to her then brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“You are a vision, Miss Fletcher. Have you been to the opera before? Did you like it? Personally,” he said, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm and steering her to the front of those gathered, “I get bored and tend to make up voices and try to figure out which of the audience is actually doing something untoward.”
A chuckle slid past her lips as she shook her head. “Good evening, Falcon.”
“That’s Mr. Morgan to you.” Bryn’s harsh tone broke in on their conversation.
Falcon laughed even as he shook his head. “No. She’s likable, I’m likable and we’re friends. She can call me Falcon. Now go away, you’re moody and I’m going to introduce her to my parents.”
Trace Morgan and his stunning wife Leona were as kind as everyone else she’d met in the close St. Martin circle. She knew they weren’t actually related but they viewed one another as family. Sooner rather than later they were all inside and Rosamunde was in awe, staring around at the gilded walls, stunning chandeliers and the dresses. The women were wearing things she assumed would be donned if they were going to see the king.
Pearls, sapphires, rubies and more draped from the ears and necks of the women in attendance.
She walked with Keely as they followed the parents to a box. Once they entered, an usher reached out to help her with her cloak. Allowing it, she was pleasantly surprised she wasn’t cold without it.
“You’re stunning, Miss Fletcher.”
A shaky smile turned up her lips at Falcon’s words. She smoothed a hand down the side of her emerald-green dress.
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t help it, she cut her eyes toward Bryn even as she responded to Falcon. She had to know, what did he think of her dress?
Bryn stared at her, hunger overflowing his gaze, but then everything faded other than blankness. He gave her a nod and went to claim a seat completely across the box from her.
Heart shattering, she refused to lose the smile and glanced back to Falcon.
“Don’t mind him, he’s fighting his attraction,” he whispered the words in her ear as he escorted her to a seat.
“To you?” The second the words slipped, she wished she could recall them. Falcon made her so comfortable, she had gotten lost in the dream of being able to joke with him.
Falcon laughed aloud, drawing Bryn’s attention once more.
“You’re good for him, Rosamunde. No, not for me. For you.”
She turned her back on Bryn, refusing to let him ruin this night for her. She gave Falcon another smile. “Thank you for your kindness, but that’s not true. He can barely stand to be around me.” A single shrug. “Unless he’s trying to push my embarrassment further. He likes seeing how much he can make me blush.”
“While I hate you think it, you’ve never been so wrong. That man is so confused when it comes to you he isn’t sure of anything anymore. Not beyond wanting you. You and I are going to be amazing friends and you can always call on me if you need anything.”