Read Online Gayle Buck by Hearts Betrayed - Free Book Online Page B

lean face was disturbingly attractive. The proud lift of his dark head, the breadth of his shoulders, his straight stature, were all as she remembered. But the cold expression in his gray eyes reminded Michele that he was not the same man she had once loved. She took a steadying breath and inclined her head. “Lord Randol.”
    He smiled, though there was little amusement in the curl of his lips. He took her gloved hand and with the stiffness characteristic of any movement of his right arm, he lifted her fingers to his lips for the briefest of seconds. “Mademoiselle du Bois. You are perhaps lovelier than when we first met. We all change, though not necessarily for the better.” He made a slight gesture toward his disfigured face. The expression in his eyes was sardonic as he awaited her reaction.
    Michele nodded in a matter-of-fact fashion. She knew better than to allow herself to exhibit any emotion over his scarred countenance. She had seen too often, with others who had been maimed, how the least measure of pity either encouraged self-pity or induced bitter rage. “That is true, my lord. The war, and in particular Waterloo, changed many things. This is my first Season in London. Undoubtedly I shall meet many old acquaintances,” she said, managing a credible smile. It was difficult to remain coolly impersonal when what she really wished to do was to ask what had so embittered him toward her.
    Lord Randol stared at her for a moment, a sudden frown forming between his brows. He had expected something quite different from the lady’s prosaic attitude, and he was unaccountably infuriated that she had not reacted as he had assumed she would. Abruptly he bowed. “Mademoiselle.” He walked away to mingle on the crowded ballroom floor.
    Michele looked after his lordship, not knowing what to think. There had been almost a look of surprise in his eyes. The next instant a shutter had seemed to come down over his expression and he had turned on his heel.
    Michele jumped at a touch on her elbow. “How you startled me, Lydia!”
    “Did I? I am sorry. Michele, our aunt says that we have done our duty for the evening. She has given permission for us to leave the receiving line.”
    There was such a note of relief in her voice that Michele laughed at her. “Let’s not tarry, then. Her ladyship may reconsider her magnanimity at any moment.”
    Lydia laughed as they entered the ballroom together. It was a colonnaded chamber of graceful proportions, its length evenly marked by tall velvet-draped windows. Countless arrangements of cut flowers scented the air, and bunches of burning candles threw a bright glow. A respectable crowd laughed and talked, some twirling about the marble floor to the musicians’ strains, while others were content to stand about or sit in the chairs grouped around the room.
    Michele and Lydia were immediately claimed by gentlemen desiring to squire them around the dance floor. They never suffered the humiliation of standing out of a set for the lack of a partner, and the evening went quickly with the dancing. At one point Michele found herself in the same quadrille as Lord Randol. As they came together in the movement of the country dance, he said, “How serene you appear, mademoiselle. I am surprised.”
    “I do not understand you, my lord,” she said, not quite steadily. She felt his antagonism in the hard grip of his fingers on hers.
    He laughed and his flinty gray eyes mocked her. “Do you not, mademoiselle? You were not used to be one so bereft of wit. Perhaps I may enlighten you one day.”
    Michele looked full into his face. Deliberately she threw down the gauntlet to him. “I would welcome such enlightenment, my lord!”
    Lord Randol stared down at her. His lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. “Would you, indeed?”
    The dance separated them then, and when they came together again, Michele declined to meet Lord Randol’s occasional glance, preferring to maintain a cool and detached