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Kiss Me Again
Chapter One
London, the third of May, 1819
Dear Aunt Euphenia,
I'm so sorry you weren't well enough to attend the baptism yesterday, and I hope you're feeling better today. My sweet boy acquitted himself in a manner I don't expect will surprise you, given that I'm his mother. He cried loudly throughout. I shall give you a detailed description later in my letter, because first I must tell you that however distressing D'Arcy's crying was at the time, it was nothing compared to what happened afterward ...
Lady Diana Westover Terrington
His green eyes twinkling, the Honorable Brixton Smythe-Medway spread his arms across the back of a cabriole sofa in the library of Viscount Adderley's town house. A merry smile on his pleasant face, he surveyed the decidedly masculine room furnished with the aforementioned sofa and comfortable oval-backed chairs, shelves of leather-bound volumes and walls paneled in age-darkened oak. He felt at peace with the whole world and the equal of anybody, including the other gentlemen who were there with him, for he had the special privilege of being the godfather of the son and heir of his best friend, Edmond Terrington, Viscount Adderley.
At the moment, Edmond was upstairs with his wife Diana and, judging from the wails wafting from above, he wasn't having much luck helping her and the nursemaid getting little D'Arcy Douglas to nap.
Brix glanced at Lord Justinian Bromwell, Buggy to his friends, who was deaf to the baby's crying and the conversation in general as he studied the various books on the shelves near the door as if looking for the secret ofEl Dorado -- or perhaps an interesting spider, as arachnids were his specialty.
Lieutenant Charles Grendon of His Majesty's Royal Navy stood properly at ease in front of one of the tall, narrow windows. He had the air and attitude of a commander and, Brix reflected, the uniforms of naval officers couldn't have been better designed to highlight Charlie's impressive physique.
While Charlie didn't lack for female admirers, it was no secret among the group of former schoolmates that Sir Douglas Drury, baronet and barrister, could claim to have conquered more hearts than any of them.
Brix watched the most famous attorney in London as he poured the brandies, finding himself once again slightly perplexed as to Drury's attraction. His sardonic friend wasn't particularly good-looking, and he never dressed with any regard for fashion, preferring plain black wool and white linen. On the other hand, Brix could see that Drury's dark hair and angular features, his propensity to brood since he'd returned from being interred in a French prison during the war, and the fact that Drury had never lost a case might render him an object of some fascination to the fairer sex.
Not that he was jealous. Far from it. He had had a few conquests of his own, despite his mop of unruly straw-colored hair that was his valet's bane, his average features and lean build. Indeed, he had some cause to wish he was even less attractive, at least in one case.
But this was not the day to have unpleasant thoughts about anybody.
Drury handed round the brandies, and once all the men had their drinks, Brix held up his glass. "To the Honorable D'Arcy Douglas Brixton Bromwell Grendon Terrington!"
The toast drunk, Brix set down his brandy on the pedestal side table near him. He'd had a fair bit of wine at the breakfast and didn't want to be foxed.
"That name has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?" he mused aloud as he made himself comfortable. "I did feel for the poor vicar, though, having to remember it all. I'd have had to write the names on my cuff."
The other men exchanged rueful smiles, except for Drury, who rarely smiled at anything.
"Edmond looked proud enough to burst the buttons on his vest, didn't he?" Charlie said after finishing his drink. He set the glass on the console table beside him and returned to his habitual attitude, hands clasped behind his back. "Even when little D'Arcy was screaming fit to wake the dead."
"That merely proves the infant has strong, healthy lungs," Buggy noted as he wandered closer, past the large globe.
Brix laughed. "Try telling that to the vicar, Buggy. I thought he was going to drop the little fellow in the font."
"I appreciate being second on the list of names," Drury remarked in the deep voice that many of his legal enemies claimed was the sole secret of his success. He settled in the chair nearest the marble hearth. "But how the devil did Edmond and Diana come up with that spelling of D'Arcy? I don't recall any family names of D'Arcy, and as far as I know, neither one of them has a drop of French blood in their veins."
There was a moment of awkward silence before Brix stepped jovially into the breach. Although he appreciated that Drury had suffered at French hands, this was no time for grim denunciations. "I daresay it was Diana's idea. Sounds like the sort of name a romantic woman would pick, and she does write those novels, you know."
Drury's broad shoulders relaxed. "I suppose the boy should be grateful she didn't name him after that villain in her book. What was he called?"
"Korlovsky," Buggy supplied.
"Egad, yes!" Brix seconded. "Wouldn't that have raised a few eyebrows among the ton? As it was, I tried to warn Edmond that the boys at Harrow would probably tease the lad no end. I can hear them now -- Arssy D'Arcy." He sighed melodramatically ...
Kiss Me Again. Copyright © by Margaret Moore. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
