A Rogue by Any Other Name

There was no escaping the watchful eyes of the ton.

Once their skating party had alighted from the carriage and crested the hill that sloped gently down to the Serpentine Lake, they took turns sitting to attach the wood-and-steel blades to the soles of their walking boots. Penelope waited as long as possible to take her seat and strap on her blades, keenly aware of the fact that ice-skating with Michael would be a challenge, as he would likely take the opportunity to show all of London how very much in love they were.

For the hundredth time, Penelope cursed the ridiculous farce and watched her sisters make their way down the hill, hand in hand, reminding her of the greater purpose of her frustration.

Her distraction made it difficult to slide the ice blades onto her feet, and after her third try, Michael tossed his own blades to the side and crouched before her, taking one of her feet by the ankle before she realized his intentions. She yanked her foot back, sending him tipping backward to catch himself on his hands in the snow and drawing the attention of a nearby cluster of young women. “What do you think you are doing?” she whispered, leaning forward, not wanting to cause any more of a scene.

He looked up at her, all handsome angles and falsely innocent eyes, and said, simply, “Helping you with your skate.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Forgive me, but it seems that you do.” He lowered his voice to a level only she could hear. “Let me help you.”

He was not helping her for her. He was helping her for them, those watchful others who would love the scene and no doubt fall over themselves in a frenzy to tell their friends and families all about how the Marquess of Bourne was the most solicitous, kindhearted, wonderful man ever to walk the banks of the Serpentine Lake.

But she wouldn’t love it.

She would put on her own damned skates.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” And she promptly slid the contraptions over her walking boots, carefully tightening the straps to ensure a snug fit. “There.” She looked up at Michael, watching her carefully, something strange and unidentifiable in his gaze. “Perfect.”

He came out of his crouch then, reaching down to help her up. “At least let me do this, Penelope,” he whispered, and she couldn’t resist the soft words.

She placed her hands in his.

He lifted her to her feet and held her as she regained her balance on the blades. “If I remember correctly, you were never as good at walking on your blades as you were at skating on them.”

She blinked up at him, nearly tipping over with the movement and clasping his arms carefully as she regained her balance. “You said you didn’t remember.”

“No,” he said, quietly, guiding her down the hill and toward the lake. “You said I didn’t remember.”

“You do, though.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a small, sad smile. “You’d be amazed by all that I remember.”

There was something in the words, a softness that was foreign to him, and she couldn’t help her suspicion. “Why are you behaving like this?” Her brow furrowed. “Another chance to prove our love match?”

Something flickered in his gaze, there then gone. “Any chance to prove it,” he said, softly before he looked away. She followed the line of his gaze to find Pippa and Olivia, hand in hand, helping each other toward the ice. Any chance to match her sisters.

“I should join them,” she said, lifting her face to him, meeting his beautiful hazel eyes. It was only then that she realized how closely he held her, and how the gentle incline of the hill brought her almost eye to eye with him.

One side of his mouth twitched. “Your cheeks are like cherries.”

She tucked her chin into the fur cowl at her neck. “It’s cold,” she said, defensively.

He shook his head. “I am not complaining. I think they’re rather charming. They make you look like a winter nymph.”

“I am hardly nymphlike.”

He lifted a hand and pressed one finger to her raised brow. “You never used to do that. Never used to be so sardonic.”

She pulled away from the warm touch. “I must have learned it from you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, all seriousness, before he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Nymphs should not be cynical, love.”

Suddenly, it did not seem so cold.

He pulled back, shaking his head. “What a pity.”

“What is?”

He bent his head toward her, nearly touching her forehead with his. “I am almost certain that you are blushing. But the cold makes it impossible to tell.”

Penelope could not help her smile, enjoying the banter, forgetting, for one fleeting moment, that it was not real. “How sad that you shall never know.”

He lifted her hands to his lips, kissing first one set of kidskin-covered knuckles, then the other, and she wished that she were not wearing gloves. “Your ice awaits, my lady. I shall join you presently.”

She looked past him to the crowded lake, where her sisters had joined the revelers in their circles on the lovely, smooth surface, and suddenly standing here with him seemed far more exciting than anything that could happen on the ice. But standing with him was not an option. “So it does.”

Michael saw her down to the lake’s edge, where she pushed off and disappeared into the crowd, soon finding her sisters. Olivia looped one hand through Penelope’s arm, and said, “Bourne is wonderful, Penny. Tell me, are you ecstatic?” She sighed. “I would be ecstatic.”

Penelope looked down at her feet, watching them glide across the ice, peeking out from beneath her dress. “Ecstatic is one way to describe it,” she said. Frustrated and impossibly confused would be another.

Olivia made a show of looking around the lake. “I wonder if he knows any of these unattached lords?”

If he was to be believed, half of them owed The Angel money. “I imagine he does, yes.”

“Excellent!” Olivia added, “Well done, Penny. I think he shall be the brother-in-law worth his salt! And handsome, too, isn’t he? Oh! I see Louisa Holbrooke!”

She waved furiously across the ice and was off to visit with her friend, leaving Penelope to say quietly, “Yes. He’s handsome,” grateful for one moment during which she did not have to lie.

Her gaze moved to the spot on the hill where they’d stood mere moments ago. He stood stock-still, all attention on her. Her hand itched to wave. But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?

It would be.

As she was considering the action, he made the decision unnecessary. He raised one long arm and waved to her.

It would be rude to ignore him.

So she waved back.

He lowered himself to the bench and began to strap on his skates, and Penelope gave a little sigh, forcing herself to turn away before she did something even more foolish.

“Something’s happened.”

For a moment, Penelope thought that Pippa had noticed the strange interactions between Michael and her. Mind racing, she turned to face her younger sister. “What do you mean?”

“Castleton has proposed.”

Penelope’s eyes went wide at the unexpected announcement, and she waited for Pippa to acknowledge the fact that they had spent much of the morning together, and Pippa had only just decided to mention the proposal.