Read Online Between the Devil and Ian Eversea by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online Page A

the land near the . . . oh, what did you call it? The Academy of . . . the School for . . .” She paused, flustered, looking searchingly into his face, as though the answers to all of the world’s troubles could be found there.
    “Miss Marietta Endicott’s Academy for Young Women,” Simon completed breathlessly, as if she’d said something too adorable.
    Upon the conclusion of the waltz, Simon had escorted Miss Danforth back to where Ian stood with Miss Charing, and now the two of them were reminiscing about it.
    Miss Danforth beamed at him. She swung her head to include the gathering at large. “Is he often like that, Miss Charing? Does he finish sentences for you?”
    “No!” Miss Charing said, with something like alarm.
    “But he’s so very clever! How do you keep up with him?”
    Simon was scarlet with pleasure.
    “I sometimes wonder myself,” Miss Charing said, studying Simon as if he was a stranger who’d just donned a Simon costume.
    “I enjoy all of Miss Charing’s sentences so thoroughly I’m happy to let her do most of the talking,” Simon maintained stoutly. Mollification transformed Miss Charing’s features.
    Momentarily.
    “I must say, your gift for conversation must be contagious, Miss Charing, for I found Mr. Covington to be positively scintillating. I hesitated to say one word lest I miss one of his.” Miss Danforth smiled at him.
    Simon beamed and croaked quietly, gleefully, wonderingly, to the gathering at large, “I’m scintillating!” Like a drunken parrot.
    “You see, I’ve been a bit of a wallflower for some time, and it’s very helpful to me when someone guides the conversation along, for I fear I’m a bit out of practice.” She lowered her eyelashes.
    “You did very well!” Simon defended. “Very well, indeed! Isn’t she doing well?” he demanded of the gathering at large again, swiveling his head to and fro.
    “ Very well,” Ian said dryly.
    Miss Charing darted a panicked glance at Ian.
    Miss Danforth looked up at him, saw the frown, and that pink rushed into her cheeks again, and she jerked her head abruptly away toward the ballroom floor. Away from him. A peculiar little thing, given to blushes and gushing, it seemed, and thoroughly intimidated by him. Such a child! Where had she been kept before she was sent across the ocean to England? Surely she hadn’t been raised in a convent?
    Just then his sister Olivia, stunning in willow green silk, limped toward them, leaning on the arm of Lord Landsdowne, whose face was a picture of somber solicitousness, as if Olivia were breakable.
    “What happened, Liv? Did you kick a ne’er-do-well a bit too hard?”
    “So witty, Ian. It was a rather too enthusiastic turn in the reel, I fear. My ankle went one way and I went the other. I shall live to dance again. I simply need to rest it a bit. Which sadly leaves Lord Landsdowne partnerless for the next reel.”
    Landsdowne promptly said, “It will be my honor to sit by your side and will your ankle to recover. I can be very persuasive.”
    She smiled at Landsdowne.
    And then Landsdowne turned slightly, seeming to remember his usually impeccable manners, and saw Tansy.
    A moment of silence and stillness ensued as Landsdowne’s eyes settled on her in a bemused way. Ian could almost read the man’s thoughts: Surely she can’t be as pretty as all that .
    “I haven’t yet had the pleasure,” he said slowly to her. Landsdowne was a grown man and a fairly formidable one. He wouldn’t goggle or stammer. No. He would mull. And plan.
    “Forgive my manners,” Olivia said immediately. “Viscount Landsdowne, this is our guest, Miss Titania Danforth, of America.”
    Miss Danforth’s lashes lowered and she curtsied, slowly and gracefully, for all the world like a petal drifting from a tree.
    And Ian watched Landsdowne’s eyes follow her all the way down. And all the way up.
    “How fascinating to have an American in our midst, Miss Danforth,” he said.
    Landsdowne hadn’t