He surveyed the lady for a moment and then said, “Indeed. I suppose we’ll find out if I’m the crack shot you hope me to be.”
Grey wished for that very thing as their hostess began to speak. After a brief introduction, she brought her daughter up to the seat of distinction. She was a perfect English rose with her creamy skin, bright blue eyes and curly blond hair that was pulled back from her face, a few ringlets left down to curl and dance about her shoulders. She must be a first season debutante, for she looked as though she was fresh out of the schoolroom.
As she began to read a story from E.T.A. Hoffman about “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King,” he asked himself why he couldn’t have been drawn to someone like her. Life would certainly be much easier if he had pursued her. In truth, he might have already secured a proposal. But the idea of wedding such a naïve young girl made his stomach churn. He’d always preferred women who were well seasoned and not so empty-headed. He wanted to enjoy an intelligent conversation and with these simpering young misses, it was nearly impossible to do so. Most of them were merely concerned with the latest fashions and their current needlework.
He shuddered at the idea he would be saddled with someone like that for the rest of his days. That was why he’d always preferred his peccadilloes and avoided entanglement—until that night at the theatre where one woman had suddenly brought him to heel with nothing more than her strong presence. And now that Lady Isadora stood between him and Lady Araminta, the challenge had become even more prominent.
But in the end, he vowed he would overcome any obstacle.
Restless, Grey forced himself to sit still throughout the reading, for it wouldn’t be long until he would be in front of Araminta once again. And this time, he intended to do whatever was necessary to convince her to entertain his suit.
“He’shere!”Calliope hissed in Araminta’s ear as they had sat down and settled in for the reading.
“Who, dear?” Araminta pretended a sudden interest in fixing the lace on her dress, but she knew exactly whom her sister was referring to.
“Why the Earl of Somers, of course!” Calliope returned, as if it she was rather dimwitted. “Perhaps during intermission you should speak to him.”
Araminta ground her teeth at being put in this precarious situation. Who would have even thought the earl would enjoy something as simple as a book reading? She’d actually accepted this invitation for exactly the reason that she thought shewouldn’tsee him there.
She fidgeted slightly, her temperature rising, for she could almostfeelhis gaze boring into her. Of course, that could just be her imagination. For all she knew he’d decided to heed her words and he was there for another reason. She glanced at Lady Journton’s daughter who had just walked to the front of the room and wondered if perhaps he hadn’t decided to move on to another conquest already. She studied the girl, trying to imagine Lord Somers pursing her, and found it highly unlikely. She was too innocent for the likes of him, although he was a known rake.
She frowned. Surely he wouldn’t try to take advantage of her? Or lead her down the infamous Scandal Lane at Hyde Park? If so, then surely it was Araminta’s duty to safeguard the girl from his clutches.
She sat up a bit straighter and forced herself to focus on the enchanting story about a little girl who traveled to the Land of Sweets with a Nutcracker Prince, where they have to fight off the evil Mouse King. She would have been thoroughly engrossed in the fairy tale if she hadn’t been so distracted by the presence of the man sitting somewhere behind her.
As soon as the reading was over, the assemblage clapped and the girl’s cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink as she offered a curtsy. As her mother announced that there would be refreshments served in the parlor, Araminta was grateful for the chance to move about and ease the sudden tension that was making her shoulders feel tight, although there was no doubt that she would be forced to encounter Lord Somers at some point.
It turned out she didn’t have very long to wait at all. Before they had even made it out of the drawing room, Lord Somers smoothly stepped in her path. “Lady Araminta.” He offered an elegant bow. As he greeted the rest of her sisters in turn, he addressed Livy. “Lady Olivia. I trust you are suffering no ill effects from your fall in the Thames.”
“No, my lord,” she returned quietly.
“I’m relieved to hear it.” He offered a broad smile, which made Araminta’s toes curl in her slippers. “I was hoping to present a dear friend of mine.” As the man standing next to him stepped forward, Araminta noted that he was rather handsome with his russet hair and piercing hazel eyes. It also didn’t escape her attention that his focus was directed on Isadora.Interesting.
“I can speak for myself, Somers,” he said deeply. He reached out and grasped Isadora’s gloved hand and brought it to his lips where he kissed her knuckles lightly. “Remington Fletcher, Marquess of Osgood.”
“Lady Isadora Bevelstroke.” Araminta lifted a brow at the breathless quality to her elder sister’s voice. She was generally adept at keeping herself distanced from any sort of flattery, but there was apparently something different about the marquess.
“May I escort you to the parlor?” Osgood offered an arm to Isadora, and she readily accepted him. She slid a glance to Araminta, her cheeks coloring slightly as she was led away.
Calliope, ever the teasing sister, offered her services to Olivia. “Shall we depart?”
Olivia giggled as she threaded her arm through hers.
Once they were gone, that left Araminta alone with Lord Somers. He smiled almost sheepishly. “I suppose that leaves the two of us.” He crooked his arm at her and she slipped her hand through his, resting her fingers lightly on his muscular forearm.
“Something tells me you did this on purpose,” she murmured.
He put his other hand over his heart. “I’m wounded that you would believe I would stoop to such means just to get you alone, Lady Araminta. I’m a gentleman.” Although the wink he offered her was full of deviltry.
“Hmm.” Her lips twitched of their own volition as they found their way to the refreshment table. Glancing over the array of delights to be had, she passed them over while the earl popped a sweetmeat into his mouth.
She thought nothing further of the action until those blue eyes looked directly at her as he began to slowly lick each of his fingers in turn. A swirling warmth took over her midsection, and she was frozen to the spot, her eyes riveted on the action.
“Delicious,” he murmured.
“Er…yes,” she stammered in turn.
He reached out and plucked another candy from the silver platter. “Would you care for one?” He held it out to her and she realized that he intended tofeedher in the presence of all of the other guests milling about.
