Read Online A Christmas Wedding Wager by Michelle Styles - Free Book Online Page A

surveying his domain.
    The morning room became much too small. He was far too close, and far too masculine for such a feminine room, with its bows and fussy coverings left over from her mother's reign.
    'Is there something I can help you with, Mr Stanton?' Emma kept her voice chilled.
    'I do hope so. It is a small matter, and will only take a moment of your time.'
    She calmly put down her pen and rose. She straightened the folds of her dress. She could do this--act in a perfectly natural manner. Her breathlessness had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with lack of sleep. She banished the giggling gossips from her mind.
    'Did you find everything to your satisfaction with the bridge?'
    'The bridge is progressing admirably.'
    'Then is there something wrong with your accommodation? I am sure Fackler will be pleased to sort it out.' Emma raised her hand to summon the butler.
    'The room is comfortable, and your staff have been welcoming to my valet.'
    'But there is something wrong.' Emma kept her head held high.
    'A dance is to be held at the Assembly Rooms to raise funds for the St Nicholas Church.'
    Jack's voice flowed over her, enveloped her senses in its warmth.
    'This is the fifth year that such a dance has been held.' Emma tilted her head, trying to assess where the conversation was leading. She would have to work the conversation back round to the bridge. She put her hand on her well-thumbed copy of the latest survey. 'It is quite the thing. Assembly Rooms balls are held in high esteem. Their reputation has only grown since Strauss appeared with his orchestra eight years ago.'

    She hated the way her voice caught on the last words. There should be no reason why Jack would remember the first waltz they had shared. The first time he had gone to such an occasion.
    She had buried it deep within, half-forgotten until an inconvenient time like today, when the memory sprang full-blown upon her. It was even more poignant than the memory of the last waltz they had shared--the one directly before he'd proposed to her. She regarded the scattered papers.
    'Yes, you danced every waltz that night. Always a different partner, always in demand.'
    There was more than a touch of irony to his look. 'The veritable belle of the ball.'
    'I used to live for dancing. Mama despaired about how many slippers I wore out.'
    'Indeed.' His eyes narrowed.
    'Oh, yes.' Emma gave a little fluttering laugh. 'She used to make a joke of it. How I would need a wealthy husband who could keep me in slippers. Utter nonsense, but Mama was like that.'
    'Have you worn out many slippers lately?'
    'The state of one's shoes is not something a lady discusses with a gentleman.' Emma tilted her chin in the air.
    'We both know my origins, Miss Harrison.' Jack's voice dropped several degrees in temperature. 'Charity boys, even those who have made their fortunes, are rarely considered gentlemen in the best circles.'
    Emma pressed her lips together and silently cursed her wayward tongue. His origins were no mystery--father dead at nine, grammar school, and then articled to her father. Everything Jack Stanton had he had worked for. He had acquired the polish of a gentleman, rather than being born to it.
    'I attend dances regularly,' Emma said brightly, and knew her words were no more than a polite lie. She did go to the dances. However these days she spent far more time watching her father play cards or chatting to Lucy and the other young matrons than dancing.
    Jack drew his upper lip between his teeth. 'And yet I did not discover your name on the list for the St Nicholas Ball.'
    Emma released her breath. He seemed content to allow the subject to be changed. 'Is that important?'
    'It is a popular dance--the best attended of the year, according to my sources.' A faint smile touched his lips. 'I understand the punch is superb.'
    'I don't normally drink punch. Strong spirits are the bane of many an existence.'

    'That is too bad. But it is no reason for you to forbid