Eyes that hadn’t met his in two years.
Imogen.
Her head tipped to one side, and her mouth lifted subtly to the other. Her fresh, pristine beauty—the brightness of her eyes…the roses of her cheeks…the perfect bow of her lips—put every other lady to shame.
Then she placed her hand into that of the gentleman standing before her and was whisked into thewhirl of the waltz.
The contact had lasted but the split of a second, yet it felt…intentional.
A feeling winged through him, but not the one he would’ve expected.
He would’ve thought to feel joy or a sense of triumph, but what he was left with felt strangely hollow.
After two years, that was all?asked a small voice.
He dismissed the voice.
Of course, that wasn’t all.
After two years—at last—it was the beginning.
Yet, surprisingly, before that instant of contact, he hadn’t thought of Imogen once tonight.
His mind had been occupied by a different lady altogether.
He conducted a fourth sweep of the ballroom and, again, yielded nothing.
“Could you tell me something?” came a sultry feminine voice at his side.
He glanced around to find a lady regarding him with a saucy smile on her rouged mouth to match the one dancing in her eyes. She possessed the twinkly look of a woman who had dared herself to do something and was surprised to find herself doing it. Yet, at the same time, she didn’t have the look of a lady who had never done such a thing.
“It would be my honor to impart any information to a lady of your consummate beauty,” he said with a slight bow.
He was laying it on with a trowel, but if one couldn’t lay it on thick at a ball where the champagne was flowing and spirits were running high and hot, then where could one? Besides, he’d told no lie. The lady was a beauty with her hazel-green eyes and lush figure.
“Why is it they call you Lord Devil?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. He knew it for his wicked smile. “I believe the title to be ironic.”
“Oh?” She poked out her bottom lip in a pout.
“Oh, yes.” His voice had gone low and conspiratorial. “I’msuchan innocent.”
Appreciation shone in her eyes as they slowly roved up and down his person. “Let us hope not.”
A laugh startled from him. When he’d decided to muscle his way into theton, nothing in his previous life had prepared him for the forwardness of its married ladies and widows. Not that he’d actually been an innocent. But these ladies could be…direct.
The lady held out her hand, each silk-gloved finger bearing a different jewel. “I’m Lady Standish.”
He lowered into another bow. “It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Standish.”
She took a step, their body positioning now implying a relationship more intimate than mere recent acquaintances. “You may call me Susan. No one has addressed me with such familiarity since my husband, the late earl, went to meet his Maker a year ago.” Her smile turned knowing. “And, oh, how I do miss the familiarities.”
So, a widow.
Awillingwidow.
“Perhaps you could show me…”
