Read Online Autumn Glory and Other Stories by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page B

friends into dancing with her could bring a smile to her lips.
    The boulanger was next, then the Roger de Coverly. When no one asked her, Irma began to think the condemned man might even get his last supper.
    Then a waltz was begun. Irma had never waltzed with anyone but her sisters, and now she never would, unless Papa’d finally found someone down at the heels and dicked in the nob. She kept her eyes on the floor so no one could see her struggle to keep from crying.
    Then a pair of black satin evening pumps was in her view, and white stockings encasing well-muscled legs. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Glory?”
    “No!” she snapped, before Lady Bannister pinched her arm. She rubbed the sore spot and hissed at him anyway: “Do go away, my lord. You know what Papa said.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you cannot want to marry me.”
    “Yes.”
    Winn took her hand and led her to the dance floor before Irma could interpret his response. Every eye in the room was on them, of course, and Papa’s mouth was hanging open. Irma stood at rigid attention in front of the viscount. “My lord, Winn, please listen to me. I realize you are just being noble again, but Papa won’t understand. He cannot force a gentleman like you to make me an offer, but he can subject you to a terribly embarrassing conversation for all of us. Please, perhaps if we just promenade around the room…”
    In answer Winn took her in his arms and swirled her around the floor, keeping her spinning until she was laughing and out of breath. Dancing with her sisters was never like this!
    “He’ll offer you the Grange,” she warned.
    “It won’t be enough. I have ten times more property than any man needs.”
    “He’ll offer you his foxhounds, that’s how desperate he is.”
    “I’ve given up hunting.”
    “Then he’ll say you were trifling with me. He’ll blacken your reputation.”
    “What? Brig the Prig? My name can stand a little scandal, I’ve been so good all these years. A touch of notoriety only adds to a fellow’s consequence, anyway, don’t you know? Look at Farrell. The man’s an out-and-outer, yet he won himself a treasure in Iselle. Did you notice she is even more beautiful with a wedding ring?”
    Irma did not want to talk about Iselle’s beauty. “Papa will call you out.”
    He laughed out loud. “That’s unlikely. I’m known to be a crack shot, and I doubt your father’s been next or nigh a sword these ages.”
    “Then I suppose you’ll be safe from his machinations.” She sighed, almost regretfully.
    “Safe?” He laughed again, brown eyes dancing with golden flecks as he twirled her around. “If I wanted to be safe, Miss Irmagard Snodgrass, I would have fled when I saw your watercolor painting, all vibrant and chaotic and full of life. I would have turned tail and run back to the intrigues of Vienna rather than take part in your skipbrain schemes.”
    Irma was about to protest that her tactics were not lackwit, they worked, for the most part, when she found herself back on the balcony in the chill air. Somehow she wasn’t cold, for his arms were around her and he was whispering in her ear: “And if I wanted to be safe, Glory, I’d never kiss you like this, knowing I’ll never be free of you again.”
    A few minutes—or a lifetime—later, he tipped her face up to stare into her eyes. “Say you care for me, just a little, Glory, and let me try to make you as happy as I know how. Otherwise, it’s a life sentence for me, too, a whole eternity with an empty place in my heart.”
    Confounded by the dance, the kiss, the warm breath on her cheek, she could only think to ask, “You mean, you really wanted to dance with me? You weren’t just being kind and good because you felt sorry for me?”
    “No, you little goose. I waited to make sure there was no young swain you smiled at to encourage. Of course, I might have had to call him out, but I waited to make sure.” His hands were on the side of her face,