Page 6

Objectively, her face was pleasing but not beautiful.

Her best features were her eyes, wide set and fringed with dark lashes, followed by her lips, plump enough for kissing— ah, those thoughts again!

Really, he should be showing better control than this.

It was most unusual for him. Perhaps it denotes my tumbled state of mind?

He had thought he had himself in hand better than this.

Her chin would be thought a smidgen too resolute for a woman, and her nose had a slight bump.

There, that is better, more objective, less feeling!

Her reticule slid from her wrist to her elbow, pushed out of shape by its rectangular burden, and swung about awkwardly with the movement of the dance. He recalled with quiet amusement her fright when caught with her nose in a book.

“How are you enjoying Glenarvon ?” he asked.

She flushed and glanced up at him. “I was almost finished, just a few pages to go. The story isn’t much, but the satire is delightful.”

He nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Did you recognize the players?”

She chuckled. “Absolutely! It is what makes the whole thing so delicious.”

“If you like satire, have you read Voltaire?” he asked, curious to discover how far her education stretched.

She looked up startled, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. I do like that expression. What would her lips feel like? No, no...

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone!” Something tugged in his chest at the unconscious intimacy of that. As if they were compatriots who shared a secret. Was it possible...? Don’t get your hopes up. You know nothing about her yet. All the same, his lips twitched at her hunted expression.

“I won’t. What else have you read?” He was wholly unable to resist encouraging her.

“Are you trying to trap me?”

It was his turn to be startled. “No. Why should I?” He had a reputation for starchiness he knew, but in this particular realm he held more progressive views than most.

“You know perfectly well it is not appropriate for young ladies to read things like Voltaire.”

“It is true that society thinks so.”

“You do not?”

“I am somewhat more liberal in my ideas,” he said mildly. “My sisters have all received a very good education,” he added by way of illustration.

“I had no idea,” she said softly.

“No idea about what?”

“Nothing!” she said abruptly. “What do you like to read, Your Grace?”

“I am partial to history,” he said apologetically.

Her eyes lit up. “Roman or Greek?”

“Both. I read classics at Cambridge.”

“Oh, how I envy you!” This was the most unusual conversation he had ever had with a young lady, her kissability notwithstanding, and he would rather like to prolong it.

Unfortunately, the dance was drawing to a close, and he had four other young women to speak with.

He returned Miss Watson to her chaperone and made a mental note to call upon her tomorrow.

Unless, of course, one of the other young ladies proved to be more compelling.

And by the end of the evening, having danced with all five, he was only able to eliminate immediately the blonde and the redhead.

His first impression of the widow held firm.

She was definitely at the top of his list, and he had made an appointment to call upon her tomorrow to take her driving in the park.

The other one, what was her name? Grenfell, yes Miss Grenfell, had been underwhelming.

He’d had a devil of a time getting her to talk beyond monosyllables and her general demeanor was disinterested.

Which was a bit of a facer. He wasn’t used to being treated as someone of no interest. He might have been intrigued if he weren’t so interested in the widow.

As for the wallflower, he would hold her in reserve if the widow failed.

He had enjoyed their conversation, but her changeability of mood made him wary.

The widow was older, she would know the rules of a contract such as this.

Miss Watson, he had a feeling was more vulnerable.

There was a sweetness to her, an innocence that gave him pause.

There was also that disturbing spark of heat that threw him off balance; that wasn’t something he was accustomed to.

*

Sarah returned to her chaperone’s side after her waltz with the duke, only to be pounced on by Daphne, who had been drawn away when the duke appeared at Almack’s, which was why Sarah had snatched the opportunity to read her book in the first place.

“Troubridge?” she said, fanning herself. “My dear, I never thought you could look so high. Who introduced you?”

“Lady Sefton,” she said, trying to hide her smile. When he had slipped his arm about her waist and drawn her close against him, her heart had threatened to jump out of her breast. And the heat that rushed up her body at his proximity made her blush in remembrance.

“Ah!” said Daphne looking mighty pleased. “And a waltz, too! Well, that will get you noticed, I guarantee it. You will be besieged now, mark my words!”

As proof, just then, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell floated across the room trailed by two gentlemen eager for introductions and that was the start of the avalanche.

Sarah had no further opportunity to read her book because her hand was requested for every dance, a hitherto unknown experience.

While she was dancing, though, she could not but be aware of the duke’s movements also, and it did not escape her notice he danced with four other ladies known to possess substantial fortunes, and her initial euphoria drained slowly out her toes.

She hoped in vain that he would solicit her hand for another dance, but he did not.

Daphne repined this, too, but said, “It would give a singular particularity if he were to do so, my dear, and he would not commit such a solecism, I’m sure.

The duke is known to be very correct and punctilious in all matters of ton , you know.

He is very proud, but then the Laynes can trace their lineage back to the Conqueror. ”

By the time Sarah retired to bed, she had a headache, and it was all the wretched duke’s fault.

Her dormant infatuation was awakened again, and all her foolish longings she had thought packed away for good were back to taunt her.

Really, it was absurd to be so swayed by a handsome face.

Papa would be ashamed of her. Where is strength of character and heart?

I barely know him; it is ridiculous to harbor such powerful feelings on the strength of one dance.

And yet her foolish heart persisted in looking for the things to support her feelings. What of his interest in antiquities and books? His teasing me about Voltaire? And his admission that he supports liberal ideas for women’s education? When he said that, my heart fairly melted.

Perhaps, if he is truly interested in pursuing my acquaintance, he will call upon me or seek me out at the next entertainment.