Page 3 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

A shley gazed into the earl’s eyes and kept her perfectly poised smile in place. So the rumors were true. Linsey was indeed in search of a wife. Wishing to find happiness while he’d ripped hers away?

That will not be happening, Linsey.

Not while I’m still breathing.

Annoyingly, this close to him, she couldn’t help noticing that the man was more handsome than he appeared from a distance. Not that that made any difference. A man’s appearance said nothing about his character, and this earl had proved to have a rotten one. Yet—that one little word— Yet.

He did not look like a man that would run a fellow peer out of the country just because that peer lost a bet and couldn’t meet the conditions. Were wagers taken so seriously by gentlemen that they would ruin lives over them? Ashley couldn’t fathom such a thing. Yet , the evidence was clear with each jab in her heart. Yet the man before her looked like a man that had too much honor to do such a thing.

“Do you always keep a close eye on the men who enter Almack’s?”

“All ladies do,” Ashley murmured with a smile. “Otherwise, how else would we meet the new arrivals?”

His eyes narrowed slightly on her. “You speak as though we are the latest fashion entering the shops.”

Her lips inched upward. “Aren’t you?”

Her mind raced as he arched a well-defined brow. What had the book said again? Hold eye contact with the object of your affection.

She held his gaze.

But.

Affection was not a color she’d paint this vendetta with.

Oh, the book also said she should flutter her lashes at least three times every five seconds. She couldn’t manage a flutter. Grace save her, but she couldn’t. There were more, weren’t there. Hold gaze. Smile. Flutter lashes. Act coy. Curl a string of hair between her fingers.

Ah.

Her fan.

She could use her fan.

Ashley whipped open her fan and covered half her face with it. The man beside the earl cleared his throat. She spared him the briefest of glances. The Duke of Paisley? A wretched character, if rumors were to be believed. Of course, it made sense that Linsey would be friends with such a man. They were probably cut from the same cloth, which served as more proof that no matter how a man looked or seemed, it wasn’t the whole picture.

The duke stepped forward, eyes pinned on her. “My lady, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

What on earth? Did the man not see her interest in the earl? “Your Grace, I thank you for the offer, but I shall have to decline as I have another interest.” She glanced at Linsey, holding back a bold wink. “Should we perhaps take this discussion onto the dance floor?”

Both men blinked at her, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Are you always this forward?” Linsey asked, his lips turning slightly upward. A dimple formed in his clean-shaven cheek.

“Only when I know what I want.” And I want you . In pieces.

“What about what I want?”

She widened her gaze in mock surprise. “You don’t want to dance? I thought all men loved to dance.”

“I…”

“Or is it that perhaps,” she cast a glance left and right before she lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, her eyes challenging him on every score, “you never learned the art.”

His back snapped straight instantly and his eyes, for the first time, narrowed on her. “By all means, my lady. Let us take this conversation to the dance floor.”

Ashley accepted his proffered arm and allowed the earl to lead her to the center of the room, waiting for the orchestra to start up a new melody.

The quadrille.

All that was left was to shine so bright he believed beyond a shadow of a doubt she was the woman for him. The only lady who could hold the position as his countess.

Her lips quirked.

“You seem awfully pleased with yourself,” he said as they strode to the dance floor.

“I am.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I’m the first woman you have danced with. We women come alive beneath the envious gazes of others. Didn’t you know?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

She chuckled. He might be funny and tremendously handsome, but nothing could save him from her wrath.

Ashley caught a glimpse of her friend standing off to the side in disbelief. She winked at Charlene. Her prey was in her grasp.

Literally.

Now she just had to keep him there.

Determination intertwined with each step as he led her to where the couples twirled across the ballroom. This was her opportunity. She had to seize it with all her might. There might not come another. “How have you found the prospects?” Ashley asked. Bold, yes. The book warned against being outspoken, but time was of the essence. The man had ventured into Almack’s, which meant the man about to twirl the dance floor with her was in a hurry. And what was a book if not a guideline?

“Passable.”

“Merely passable?”

“What about you?” He evaded the question. Interesting. Did that mean he also found her to be just passable? She would need to change that.

“Dismal,” she answered, before her lips quirked up at him. “Until tonight.”

He stared at her, and Ashley could tell he didn’t know what to entirely make of her forwardness even as he indulged her in this dance. This might be a good thing. Or a bad thing. She hoped for the former. She needed to stand out in a way to make her unforgettable. But unforgettable in the way he sought her out and not someone else.

“Do I intimidate you, my lord?”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“My forwardness.”

“No, of course not,” he replied. “It’s quite refreshing.”

And you are quite the liar, Linsey.

She inwardly snorted, but the smile remained fixed on her face. “I ask because I’ve been told I can be a bit much. However, I am a woman who knows her own mind, and gentlemen tend to find that discomforting. I want a man who knows how to handle a woman of spirit.”

“I see.”

Hah! What exactly do you see, sir?

“Perhaps I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

She bit back a smile at the lines once more deepening his brows. “I can’t tell yet. You may be just such a man.” She sighed dramatically. “Or you may not be the man for me. However, I’ve decided you may call on me. Just to be sure.”

They joined the dancers on her last note.

She couldn’t have planned this better even if she’d orchestrated this herself. It seemed the universe was in favor of her method of revenge she had for this man. Her smile never faltered as she faced him, noting the small, but present lines gathering on his brow.

Envious gazes pricked her skin.

I’m doing you a favor, ladies.

*

She was not the woman for him.

Audacious, bold, and insolent.

Like a mare that hadn’t been broken in yet. He was in no mood to break in an unruly lady. That should have been her mother’s job. His mother would flog him for this thought. Of course, he didn’t mind outspoken ladies. But there was unruly, and there was unruly .

He suspected this minx to be the latter.

Not that he had time to be picky, but he had hoped to snare a wife that was at least gentle and soothing. This woman had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

What was happening?

Paisley had dragged him to Almack’s—his intentions still suspect. He’d even tried to steal this dance. Now he’d been proverbially hauled by this woman into the one thing he hadn’t wanted to do this evening—dance. People took notice with whom the fresh meat—him—danced, did they not?

Thomas swallowed a sigh.

There was nothing for it now.

However, something wasn’t quite right about how this girl had claimed him. And she had claimed him. Of that he harbored no doubt.

Now he had to hear how he might not be the man for her?

Not the man for her ?

Could there ever be a man for such a brazen wench?

The ballroom came alive with the melodies of the quadrille, but Thomas felt as though he was falling prey.

Just focus on the dance, Thomas. Would that even help?

Around them, rows of ladies in a bouquet of colored ballgowns took their positions with their partners, but Thomas scarcely noticed them, facing Lady Ashley.

He should move, right?

But he didn’t. Not until she brushed her gloved fingers across his arm. A jolt sparked down his spine. Just one brush. Just one simple touch.

Bloody hell .

The blonde beauty curtsied.

His eyes narrowed on her. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened, and he couldn’t be sure whether it was in surprise or delight at his suspicion. “On purpose? Whatever do you mean?”

Whatever did he mean, indeed.

Her ever-present grin seemed to widen a touch. “Your suspicion is quite endearing.”

“Suspicion means distrust. How can that be endearing?”

“On your face, how could it not.”

He shouldn’t have asked.

Best to keep his mouth clamped shut. That way, she would do the same. He didn’t know how to deal with the girl’s provocative flirtation. The music was light and a bit slow for his taste, but his heart raced, and his mind tried to outpace his pulse. It was an awkward moment when the couples on either side of them stepped around them. Thomas had to stay put, his mien controlled. That was the easy part; he’d learned every trick of the ballrooms at Oxford, and graduated top of his class two years ago, so shouldn’t he feel ready for Almack’s? He had a gentleman’s education and yet his wits failed him when his gaze dipped. For a fleeting moment, he glimpsed the swell of her breast, the perfectly even skin up her neck, and the slightly pointy chin.

Very beautiful.

His turn had come.

As the quadrille continued, he took Lady Ashley’s gloved hand to form the circle with the other couples; all Thomas could think of was that she held his hand. It should not be much to him. He wasn’t a green boy. And yet, he failed to notice the other dancers, intent on the curly golden strand that had fallen from her coiffure and cast a tiny shadow on her collarbone, just above the lace of her dress.

“Are you doing it on purpose?”

His eyes met hers. “Am I doing what on purpose?”

“Ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.” He paused, and said for emphasis, “I’m dancing.”

“You are ignoring me.”

“I’m not.”

A brow arched. “Then you are a liar.”

His gaze whipped to hers once more. “Lady Ashley. You should never call a man a liar.” Even though I am.

Well. A small lie.

“Not even when they lie?”

“A woman should not be that brazen!”

“Why not?”

Thomas couldn’t answer that. For he rightly didn’t know why they couldn’t be brazen. Only that men prefer women who are more demure in nature. Now he sounded like his father. He certainly didn’t want a wife like his mother. But then, he also didn’t want a wife that agreed with everything he said. He also didn’t want to answer her question, so he chose to ignore it and focus on his steps.

One, two, three, four, pivot, and repeat.

She laughed. “You are ignoring me again. You must have driven your governess up the walls.”

He didn’t deny it this time. “I find it best for my focus to tune things out from time to time.”

“Human beings aren’t things,” she retorted, but chuckled, as though she enjoyed his little mishaps.

He rather felt like a fly that had gotten in a spider’s web. Lady Ashley was the girl by his side, twirling elegantly to the rhythm. She seemed careless in a way that only a bird might, knowing that wherever she went, she could land softly. Her movements were graceful and elegant, her wings—ahem, arms—elongated and tipped by the silken gloves like a vulture’s. Yes, if she were a bird, she wouldn’t be an elegant peacock only because of the color of her dress. Neither would she be a tiny blue one like a harmless, clattering pigeon, even though her slippers lightly knocked on the parquet.

She was a bird of prey, and Thomas didn’t want to be a sad little squirrel unable to escape her grasp no matter how fast he ran. But he had the lingering feeling that he would quite enjoy a swift ride through an adventure with her.

One, two, three, four, pivot, and repeat.

With a deft turn, he looked to the side of the ballroom where he expected Richard to glower and bask, but he’d gone. With every move, well-rehearsed like the ticking of a clock that merely counted time and yet remained unaffected by age and seasons, Thomas followed the steps. The rhythm was a comforting undercurrent, a lifeboat in the swirling sea that was Lady Ashley’s presence, and it didn’t help that he was constantly moving in the prescribed steps, losing her every time they turned. His mind was filled with the counts, the beats, the turns, and the dips, as he navigated the labyrinth of the dance floor. The numbers became his lifeline, steadying his breath and grounding his racing thoughts.

Thomas couldn’t deny the warm thrill that coursed through him each time their hands brushed together in the dance.

It was over too soon. Lady Ashley gave a curtsy when they finally finished and flashed him a mischievous smile. She let her hand linger in his before she retreated two steps on a courtesy. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord.”

Thomas watched as her back disappeared amongst the members of the crowd.

No, she was definitely not the woman for him.