Read Online Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount - Free Book Online Page A

“Thank you.”
    Was it my imagination?  Did his fingers tighten fractionally against my back?  We made another circle around the room.
    “How are your sisters?” I asked Lord Davies.  “Has Carys learned to enjoy London?”
    The viscount nodded.  “Carys prefers Cornwall,” he said, “but she is not quite the country mouse that my mother would have one believe.  She has been greatly intrigued by the lectures at the Royal Society.”
    I knew of this society, of course; ’twas for gentlemen of philosophy, and the public was occasionally invited to hear some particular address given by its members.
    “Ah.  And do you accompany her?”
    “Often, yes.  Although my scientifical interests tend more to such unexciting matters as the turnip crop and sheep.”
    “I understand they are delicate creatures, subject to any number of illnesses.”
    “Turnips are actually rather undemanding.”
    Caught off guard, I nearly lost my step.  “Fustian!” I accused him, laughing. 
    “Ah, but if you are referring to the sheep —”  He grinned back at me, and I believe my feet left the floor—“’Delicate is an understatement, I fear.”   
    He told me a bit of the new system of ‘rotating’ crops, and that sheep were rather silly in addition to everything else, and would eat things that upset their digestion, time after time.
    The years in Cornwall had done him no harm in the waltz, as not once did his step falter.  I began to wonder about his time in London, as a young man, before he moved the family to Pencarrow.  He was no stranger to balls.  Was there some young lady who had caught his interest then?
    The music began to fade.  For a young lady with hopes this was the moment of high drama in a waltz.  A gentleman of skill—which certainly described Lord Davies—could ensure that the couple ended the dance near the spot where they started, an unspoken signal that each should move on to other partners.  Or—
    With the last strains of music we found ourselves directly opposite to our starting point, with the open doors to the Larkinton’s enormous garden only steps away.
    “Perhaps a moment on the terrace?” asked Lord Davies.
    I hoped that my face did not reveal my thoughts.  “Of course,” I said.  The terrace itself was in full view of the dancers; even Sally Jersey would not object to a brief escape from the inevitably overheated ballroom.  We stepped through into the night.
    Although there is no accounting for what happened next, I must preface my remarks by avowing that I am not a forward female, and I had no intention of behaving as one.  A brief episode of madness is the best I can do by way of explanation.  How could I have guessed that the viscount found me so enticing?  Attractive, yes, but—
    My own motives would have been clear enough to anyone looking at the two of us, as he was the most handsome gentleman in the room, and I include Lord Cray, who is generally accounted worthy to swoon over.  But what about his?  Handsome gentlemen of excellent fortune—many in the room knew of his wealth—can have their pick of the ladies. 
    Yet he had picked me.
    * * * *
     
    It began, innocently enough, with a remark on the Larkinton gardens, clearly visible below us in the moonlight.  Torches placed here and there burned along the gravel pathways, illuminating patches of shining green.  One could descend by the terrace staircase into the garden, and we saw several who had done so, but ’twas more acceptable for an affianced pair.  
    I wondered if Peter had managed to come to an understanding with Miss Montvale.  Perhaps they were in the garden even now, together in the shadows, and—
    Oh, dear.
    I think my eyes had nearly closed; I blinked and attempted to focus on the viscount, who was gazing away from me—thank heavens—in the direction of the nearest parterre , where drifts of lavender surrounded a central holly and sent their fragrance into the warm night.  I inhaled deeply