Leyla stormed into the room with as much flair as she could muster. She had learned that in order to command the room she entered, she had to be noticed from the second she stepped foot in it.
“Dylan Cavendish.” She called in a stern, forcefully cheerful voice. “Are you hiding from your guests? Or from me?”
There he was, lounging on the sofa in full view of the door she had so recently thrown open. “Just you, Miss Ristone.” He didn’t rise as she moved his way. Everyone else in the room pointedly looked away, conversations restarting in a flurry of noise. No one wanted to be caught blatantly eavesdropping.
She only stopped her forward march when her toes were touching his. And still he lounged on his fancy blue velvet sofa.
“Explain yourself.” She pressed.
He gestured around the room at all the people. “It would seem self explanatory. Everyone else here could find me and see me here, yet you are the only one who had any trouble, my dear.”
Hands on hips she kicked his couch to avoid kicking him. “You know that is not what I meant.”
“Do sit and tell me exactly what you meant.” He patted the empty spot next to him as if he had reserved it just for her. “I know everyone here is now dying to know what you mean, so I am sure you would enjoy the privacy involved with sitting down.”
Glancing around, she sucked in a breath and gave a curtsey. “Forgive me for disturbing your party. I had not meant to pull them into our drama. Perhaps we should reschedule our meeting for another time.”
His gaze hardened slightly. “Sit down.”
Eyes darting about, she acquiesced with a brief glare thrown his way for good measure.
Once they were sitting, Leyla blushed. They were sitting incredibly close to one another and people might have the wrong impression of their relationship. Dylan leaned close. “Now, why would you accuse me of hiding from such a beautiful woman like yourself? From my reputation, people know that to not be the case.” His smile raked over her entire face, as if drinking in every detail.
She fought not to give him any of the reaction he was expecting of her. She would not swoon all over him because he was more handsome than she had imagined him to be. Snatching the letter out of her small purse she held it up to him.
“We had an agreement. I thought we were going to meet in the garden after dinner to discuss what our parents have been trying to arrange between us so that we might come up with a plan to successfully thwart it.”
Immediately he snatched the letter out of the air and hid it within his jacket. “Don’t be so obvious. People will think we are exchanging love letters in public. There would be a scandal.”
“Indeed.” She arched her eyebrow. “And are you not the one I have been communicating with over the past year?”
He glared at her and whispered. “Of course I am he. Why would you think otherwise?”
“I believe I already stated my reason for questioning you.” She gave a proper smile, determined to not inspire more gossip as she pulled her shoulders back with a jerk.
Rising out of his indolent pose he leaned toward her with a keen concentration on her mouth. It startled her.
“Miss Ristone.” And even softer he added, “Leyla.” His focus did not waver as he continued to speak. “Over this past year, as we have agonized and brainstormed our way through many different potential situations that would relieve us of the expectation of an engagement and subsequent marriage, I have discovered that I now look forward to your letters in a way that I have not experienced with any other young lady of my acquaintance. In fact, I don’t write letters to anyone else. Then, when I heard you would be coming here for this week’s activities I was eager to suggest we meet and talk. I never said we would finalize plans because I am not so sure I want to anymore. However, when you automatically assumed that’s why I wanted to meet. I didn’t correct your assumption for fear you wouldn’t show.”
Leyla struggled to draw breath at his enlightening words. In truth, she was stunned. He looked about to say more when they were interrupted by a young man similar to Dylan’s age.
“I say, Cavendish. You must introduce me to your lady friend here. I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of her company and find myself in raptures over being in her mere presence.” The man bowed and Leyla fought down the silly smile his words inspired.
Dylan, however, looked entirely unamused. “Daxton Ellington, allow me to introduce Miss Ristone to you. Miss Ristone, this is Lord Daxton Ellington.”
Leyla gracefully rose and executed a perfect curtsey.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Leyla was as appropriately demure as her mother expected her to be.
“Miss Ristone. Shall we finish our conversation?” Dylan, who had risen when she had, motioned to the couch.
Again, Lord Ellington interrupted. “What a marvelous idea. Let us all sit. You can tell me how you two know each other. I’ve heard a few whisperings upon my entrance that the two of you are secret lovers or some such nonsense.”
Somehow Leyla found herself sandwiched quite closely between the two men on the sofa.
“They think what?” Dylan laughed.
Ellington shrugged. “Just don’t go getting in any compromising situation and it will all go away.”
Leyla looked around again at all the people chattering and whispering. Maybe her situation was more hopeless than she thought. Especially if Dylan wasn’t going to be helping her.
“Miss Ristone.” Ellington snatched her hand up and gave it a soft kiss, but then he didn’t let go as he lowered their clasped hands to his knee. “If there was a gentleman who was smitten by you, would you say yes to their proposal of marriage or would he have to jump through hoops to win your affection and approval?”
She couldn’t help but glance over at Dylan and his set jaw. “Are you proposing, sir?”
“No indeed.” He laughed.
“Then kindly do not bring marriage into a conversation where it has no place.” Her smile may have softened her words but his mouth snapped shut.
It was only then that he noticed his friend’s silence as well as the angry set of his jaw. “Forgive me, dear lady. I believe my friend has long been beseeching my absence.” And with that he rose and was gone.
Leyla turned to Dylan with a small smile. “I hope he was not offended by my remark.”
“He often says things he does not think about. It is good for him to be so kindly put in his place.”
“And you?”
“I…” He laid his hand on hers. “I am still hoping that you will take my declaration of my feelings with a serious intent.”
“Intent toward what?” She could scarcely breathe.
His eyes smoldered, searing her soul with fire. “Marriage.”
Come back next week to read Part 2 of Leyla’s story!
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