To Love a Libertine by LeFey Liana

Author:LeFey, Liana
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance; Historical romance England; Georgian era; Romance 1700s; Romance 18th century; Reformed Rake; Rakehell; Hellion; georgian; libertine; Entangled Select Historical
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It took every ounce of Percy’s strength to overcome the urge to turn around, go back, and bend knee right then in front of God and everyone else in the Sheffields’ ballroom. The only thing that stopped him was the need to be sure of her answer before doing so.

Her heart must wholly and beyond all doubt belong to him. He wanted to hear the words from her lips and see the truth of them in her eyes. Then and only then would he declare himself.

As he turned, he spied his would-be rival Ravenwood standing amid a group of dandies. That he himself would likely be considered a dandy didn’t bother Percy at all. There was a fine line between vulgar ostentation and presenting oneself as a fashionable example of good taste—and he was careful to always remain on the right side of the line.

Most of the men in Ravenwood’s circle appeared to have erred on the wrong side. In his yellow silk, Ravenwood stood out like a beacon even among such peacocks. The man clearly craved attention.

But though the ladies nearby looked at the fellow with much the same eagerness Percy had himself for years both enjoyed and endured, Ravenwood appeared truly oblivious to their presence. Any other man in his position would be flaunting his wares with the aim of taking full advantage of the resulting admiration—as were several of his comrades.

Yet Ravenwood didn’t.

Some men affected dispassion as a means of whetting a woman’s appetite—everyone longed for that which they thought unattainable. But instinct told him this was not the man’s intent.

Had Percy been in his place, he’d have casually turned to the side and rested a fist on his hip, pulling back his jacket to proudly display his manly figure—particularly the well-filled front of his breeches. Then he’d have flashed an occasional smile at the ladies to spur hopes and whip them into a frenzy of feminine preening.

Not once did Ravenwood cast even a glance at the women, much less a smile. For a man dressed in bright yellow and reputed to be a younger version of himself, he seemed somewhat less than keen to garner female notice.

Thus it was to Percy’s surprise when he found the man a dutiful and determined caller at Eden’s residence the week following. Thrice did he encounter the fellow, once on the way coming in and twice on his way out. Each time, Ravenwood passed him by with barely a polite nod of greeting, his eyes hard and unfriendly.

It soon became apparent he was going to have to speak to the man and clarify his position. He hoped it wouldn’t result in an altercation.

Walking in the garden with Eden—under the watchful eyes of her stepmother who stood at the window overlooking them—he expressed his concern.

“She’s determined to force him upon me,” replied Eden. “I’ve told her I don’t want him, but she will have none of it. She continues to encourage him, and I cannot be rude to him without incurring her wrath.

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