Page 1 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes (The Matchmaker’s Ball #4)

London

May 1810

“Would you care for some fresh air, Miss Burrowes?” Nathan Locke offered his arm to the ravishing young lady he had just partnered in a spirited reel. “I believe we need reviving after all that setting to and heying.” The dance had been strenuous; however, his partner had matched him pace for pace, with only pinkened cheeks to show for it. “The veranda is just this way.”

“That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Locke.” Miss Burrowes’s blue eyes sparkled, although that may have been due to the rigors of the dance. “Although we must be careful to keep close to the torches.” They both understood how quickly scandal could spread about even the most innocent of actions. But the slight pucker of her sensual lips made him believe she might agree to leave the light for a little while anyway.

They’d been introduced at Lady Somerville’s ball only the week before, where Nathan had been immediately struck by Miss Burrowes’s grace and beauty. Her witty conversation had been an unexpected boon when he’d asked for and been granted the privilege of the supper dance that evening. Ever since that first night, he’d jumped at every chance to be with her—carriage rides, social calls, theater excursions, and a magical evening at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. In one amazingly short week, he’d come to have very affectionate feelings for Miss Burrowes. A tendre , they called it, and he couldn’t deny that his thoughts strayed more and more often to the lady, whether he was in her presence or not.

“Shall we go into the garden?” Nathan asked as soon as the French window closed behind them and the heady smell of cherry blossoms assailed them. He’d had no time to talk to her unchaperoned. Even during their carriage rides, they hadn’t been alone in his curricle but in her family’s barouche. Still, he’d managed to discover her sharp wit, her gentle nature, her grace and charm in everything she did. The perfect woman with whom to build his life.

So he held his breath. This might be his only chance to speak to her privately.

To his utter joy, after a furtive look around, she nodded and followed him down the short flight of steps and out onto the shadowy lawn. A soft breeze made her pale gold ballgown billow out over the new grass as they sped along the white shell path then struck out over the expanse of green, illuminated only by the sliver of moon and a thousand stars until they stood behind the trunk of the largest cherry tree, hopefully hidden from sight. They couldn’t be too careful. There was Miss Burrowes’s reputation to consider.

She gazed up at him expectantly, although whether she was waiting for words or a gesture, he had no idea. That she wished something from him, however, was abundantly apparent. Her eyes sparkled, catching the faint starlight, making them look like sapphires. The moonlight touching her hair made it glow paler than its normal chestnut color when she tossed her head. And she twitched from one foot to the other, as though she was still dancing.

Gently, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, her smooth skin inciting a riot of desire throughout him. She tipped her head back, her eyelids half closed, her lips poised in a perfect bow. Passion raged in him, and he couldn’t help himself as he sank his mouth onto hers. Her lips were warm and welcoming as he pressed himself to her and sought to deepen the kiss. To his surprise, she opened like the petals of a flower, and he plunged in, delirious with the taste and feel of her. A madness descended upon him so that all he could think was that he wanted more. So much more.

At last, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “Miss Burrowes—”

“Amelia, Mr. Locke.” She laughed up at him. “After that kiss, I think you should call me by my first name.”

Nathan’s stomach dropped. “I…I meant to say…” Dash it, why was he tongue-tied all of a sudden?

Because he wanted nothing more than to sink his mouth back onto hers, sweep her up into his arms, and find a bower where they could continue this tryst to its glorious conclusion. From the eager look on Miss Burrowes’s—no, on Amelia’s—face, he’d find no opposition to that suggestion.

A door slammed, and the breeze brought the sound of voices from the verandah.

With a gut-wrenching sigh, Nathan stepped back, although he kept hold of her hands.

They stood together in the glorious night air, beneath the fragrant cherry tree, a whole new world within his grasp. “Amelia, I will speak to your father tomorrow. Ask permission to court you formally.” He gazed down at her beautiful face. “Ask for your hand in marriage, if that would be agreeable to you?”

The smile that lit up her face could’ve outshone the sun. Against the dull moon there was no contest. “Oh, yes, Mr. Locke. That would be very agreeable to me.”

Nathan thought his heart might burst with happiness. To have the world handed to him at the age of one and twenty surely made him the luckiest chap he knew. He couldn’t wait to tell Marcus. His best friend would be giddy with happiness for him. But it must remain a secret until he’d received Mr. Burrowes’s approval, which he undoubtedly would. What father would not wish his daughter to marry the heir to a viscountcy?

He was roused from his reverie when Amelia took his arm. “Shall we return to the ballroom now?” She smiled up at him, and his body twisted with the repressed desire to claim her as his own, this very minute.

“Yes, my dear. I think we must.” He moved them out from behind the safety of the cherry tree. Whatever it took, he’d curb his desires as best he could. He’d wait until he and Amelia were properly married—or at least properly betrothed—before continuing this heavenly interlude. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be very long now.