Read Online Between the Devil and Ian Eversea by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Anne Long
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Danforth.
“Isn’t she pretty?” Josephine said querulously. Attempting to be magnanimous. But sounding panicked.
“Yes. But so are you.”
“You are kind,” she said distractedly, the second time he was accused of such a thing tonight, and neither time had been entirely sincere. It was a testament to how much in love she was with young Simon that she didn’t even look at Ian when she said it, when he knew that in days of yore the compliment would have enslaved her.
“Whenever he dances with someone else, he always looks for me. Not rudely, mind you. Otherwise he might trip over his dancing partner. And he hasn’t looked for me once since this waltz began. Not once,” she repeated mournfully.
“To be fair, you’re hiding behind a plant at the moment,” he pointed out.
“It was an instinct, I fear, after he’d gone round and round with her and seemed to have forgotten I existed.”
Ian turned to scrutinize the happily rotating couple. Miss Danforth was beaming up at Simon as though she’d never seen or heard anything quite so fascinating in her life. So convincing was it that even Ian wondered if perhaps Simon possessed hidden depths he’d so far failed to see.
He frowned thoughtfully.
“Don’t worry, Miss Charing. You see, I’m given to understand that Miss Danforth is a bit timid. And Simon is mad about you. If she should make eyes at him, I’ll call her out.”
Miss Charing laughed. “ I’m not timid at all,” she said, sounding relieved. “Simon says he’s happy to let me do all the talking for the both of us. He says it’s a relief.”
“A match made in Heaven, surely.”
“Thank you, Captain Eversea.”
“At your service, Miss Charing. Will you step out from behind the plant now, so Simon can see you? Perhaps you ought to have a sandwich?” He reached behind him and surreptitiously shoved the punch bowl out of her vision to take her mind off it and gestured with his chin to the sandwiches.
“I do love sandwiches!”
As she busied herself with the selection of one, he took a look at Miss Danforth and Simon again.
He couldn’t help but notice that Simon seemed to be doing all of the talking.
S IMON C OVINGTON RETURNED Miss Danforth to the waiting cluster of friends, and like a shred of iron sucked into a magnet, immediately attached himself to Miss Charing’s side. Ian couldn’t help but notice he looked contemplative, however, and a bit wonderstruck, as though he’d just had a religious experience he was struggling to interpret.
What had gone on during that waltz?
He took a step toward them, tempted to investigate, when a flash of red at the corner of his eye spun him around with an unerring instinct.
A lush, dark-haired beauty appeared to be perusing the sandwiches.
He knew precisely what she was actually perusing.
He smiled, and as he spoke, aimed his gaze nonchalantly out over the ballroom.
“Good evening, Lady Carstairs. Are you looking for something to satisfy your appetite?”
He turned slightly, saw her swift little enigmatic smile without turning fully around to look at him. And she bent, just a little, to select a sandwich, which allowed him to admire the curve of her derriere outlined in garnet silk, which of course had been her intent. She was a widow and a friend of the family of the late Lady Fennimore, and she divided her time between Sussex and London.
“Presuming my appetite can be satisfied,” she said lightly. “You see, I’ve a taste for the unusual.”
“One need only make a special request to have it met,” he said gravely. “I’d be honored if you’d discuss your unique appetites with me during your visit to Sussex.”
And as she returned to her friends—without looking him in the eye—Ian reflected that it was a bit like five card loo.
If the Duke of Falconbridge was said to never lose at that game, Ian Eversea could be said to never lose at this one.
“ M R. C OVINGTON WAS telling me of the plans he has to build a house on
“Isn’t she pretty?” Josephine said querulously. Attempting to be magnanimous. But sounding panicked.
“Yes. But so are you.”
“You are kind,” she said distractedly, the second time he was accused of such a thing tonight, and neither time had been entirely sincere. It was a testament to how much in love she was with young Simon that she didn’t even look at Ian when she said it, when he knew that in days of yore the compliment would have enslaved her.
“Whenever he dances with someone else, he always looks for me. Not rudely, mind you. Otherwise he might trip over his dancing partner. And he hasn’t looked for me once since this waltz began. Not once,” she repeated mournfully.
“To be fair, you’re hiding behind a plant at the moment,” he pointed out.
“It was an instinct, I fear, after he’d gone round and round with her and seemed to have forgotten I existed.”
Ian turned to scrutinize the happily rotating couple. Miss Danforth was beaming up at Simon as though she’d never seen or heard anything quite so fascinating in her life. So convincing was it that even Ian wondered if perhaps Simon possessed hidden depths he’d so far failed to see.
He frowned thoughtfully.
“Don’t worry, Miss Charing. You see, I’m given to understand that Miss Danforth is a bit timid. And Simon is mad about you. If she should make eyes at him, I’ll call her out.”
Miss Charing laughed. “ I’m not timid at all,” she said, sounding relieved. “Simon says he’s happy to let me do all the talking for the both of us. He says it’s a relief.”
“A match made in Heaven, surely.”
“Thank you, Captain Eversea.”
“At your service, Miss Charing. Will you step out from behind the plant now, so Simon can see you? Perhaps you ought to have a sandwich?” He reached behind him and surreptitiously shoved the punch bowl out of her vision to take her mind off it and gestured with his chin to the sandwiches.
“I do love sandwiches!”
As she busied herself with the selection of one, he took a look at Miss Danforth and Simon again.
He couldn’t help but notice that Simon seemed to be doing all of the talking.
S IMON C OVINGTON RETURNED Miss Danforth to the waiting cluster of friends, and like a shred of iron sucked into a magnet, immediately attached himself to Miss Charing’s side. Ian couldn’t help but notice he looked contemplative, however, and a bit wonderstruck, as though he’d just had a religious experience he was struggling to interpret.
What had gone on during that waltz?
He took a step toward them, tempted to investigate, when a flash of red at the corner of his eye spun him around with an unerring instinct.
A lush, dark-haired beauty appeared to be perusing the sandwiches.
He knew precisely what she was actually perusing.
He smiled, and as he spoke, aimed his gaze nonchalantly out over the ballroom.
“Good evening, Lady Carstairs. Are you looking for something to satisfy your appetite?”
He turned slightly, saw her swift little enigmatic smile without turning fully around to look at him. And she bent, just a little, to select a sandwich, which allowed him to admire the curve of her derriere outlined in garnet silk, which of course had been her intent. She was a widow and a friend of the family of the late Lady Fennimore, and she divided her time between Sussex and London.
“Presuming my appetite can be satisfied,” she said lightly. “You see, I’ve a taste for the unusual.”
“One need only make a special request to have it met,” he said gravely. “I’d be honored if you’d discuss your unique appetites with me during your visit to Sussex.”
And as she returned to her friends—without looking him in the eye—Ian reflected that it was a bit like five card loo.
If the Duke of Falconbridge was said to never lose at that game, Ian Eversea could be said to never lose at this one.
“ M R. C OVINGTON WAS telling me of the plans he has to build a house on
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