Strangely, Lise could think of nothing else to say, nothing witty, certainly nothing tart.Then she realized she must return the compliment.“And you as well.You seem to be very ...experienced.”
He coughed, and she gasped slightly.“I mean, at dancing, my lord.”
His bark of laughter deepened her mortification.“Atmanythings, Miss von Ostenfeld.”After a long, wicked pause, he mimicked her, “I mean, such as mapmaking, of course.”
Before he could escort her back to the matrons, a lieutenant approached whom she knew from their weeks in London and from living in the same German-populated neighborhood.
“May I have the honor of the next dance?”he asked.
Jonathan scowled.“I cannot hand this lady off to you,” he said.“We haven’t been introduced.”
Lise withdrew her arm from his.Reluctantly.“It’s all right, my lord.I know this officer, and I accept his request.”
With that less-than-enthusiastic statement, she gave the young man her hand and let herself be taken away from Lord Bowen.Thank goodness!So far, he’d made her into first a scold and then a ninny.
The lieutenant was pleasant enough — cheerful, earnest, and utterly uninteresting.While they touched palms and circled one another in the familiar countryAllemande, he complimented her gown and her hair.He asked nothing about her thoughts or anything that might require a genuine answer.
When the dance ended, he took her back to the matrons, and her ordeal was over.Despite the extensive size of the Spencer House ballroom, it had grown unbearably warm.The press of bodies and the blaze of candles combined to make the air fragrant, thick with perfume and less desirable aromas.
Excusing herself from Lady Ashworth, not waiting for permission, Lise decided to see Lord Spencer’s library for herself.Strolling from the ballroom, she crossed the wide hallway, hoping her brother would still be looking at the maps.He wasn’t.No one was.
After entertaining herself by perusing not only the documents on the table but also the shelves of books, she noticed the terrace running the length of the west side of the building.She had only to slip through one of the glass-paned doors framed by a series of stone arches to gain her freedom and be outdoors.
Alone.The cool night air was a blessing against her heated cheeks.Beyond was Green Park and due to the moonlight, she had a perfect view.Somewhere to her left was the Thames.Although she couldn’t see it, she imagined it meandering in a long silvery path to the sea, across which she would travel home.This had been a once-in-a-lifetime chance to travel to London, practice her long-studied English, and meet the people whom her brother knew well and whom he served alongside.
Before she married.
Leaning upon the stone railing, she let herself sink into the usual trepidation over her future, the qualms that occasionally made her sleep fitful instead of restful.And then as always, she set her worries aside.She would marry Friedrich and have a loving husband as well as many children, God willing.
Lise also said a little prayer that the war would end before she was an old woman, so she could travel freely on the Continent again.
Out of the blue, her thoughts turned to the gray-eyed viscount.Why had she let Lord Bowen provoke her?Why had she cared what some English nobleman thought of her appearance or her manners?She would be gone from London within the fortnight.
She would never see Jonathan Bowen again.
That notion should have been a comfort.Instead, it sat strangely in her chest, a small, dull disappointment she wished she could dismiss.Examined too closely, the infuriating truth was that, just a moment, when his gaze had met hers in shock at her bold approach, when his mouth had quirked in that almost-smile at her demand for him to at least produce accurate insults, she had felt something shift beneath her ribs.
A distinct emotion.Interest.Curiosity.Longing.
He was handsome.Absurdly so.Intelligent eyes and unruly hair and the hands that had held her during their waltz with casual grace.Even his embarrassment had been appealing, genuine and unguarded in a room full of practiced manners.
Lise sighed.She had not come to London seeking romance.Her parents — and her intended — trusted her.And yet she had made a spectacle of herself because it had irked her that a sinfully attractive man had cast unwarranted aspersions upon her.
The balcony door opened behind her.Lise turned, expecting Henrik or perhaps Lady Ashworth had come to find her.
Instead, she was face-to-face with Lord Bowen.
Chapter Three
Jonathan stopped short, surprised to see the fates had put this impossibly intriguing woman in front of him again.For a moment they simply stared at one another.
Then he bowed.“Miss von Ostenfeld.Forgive me.I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”
“Lord Bowen.”She inclined her head with careful neutrality.“I was about to go back inside.”
“Please.Don’t let me drive you away.”What was he saying?He ought to let her go, lest the entire contingent of the King’s German Legion decide to use his head as a cricket ball.Yet he held up a hand to forestall her departure.“I stepped out to get some fresh air, not to intrude upon your solitude.”
“The balcony is not mine to command,” she said reasonably, then noticed the cigar in his hand.“I don’t believe the thick smoke from a cigar counts as fresh air.”
