Read Online Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) by Michelle McMaster - Free Book Online Page A

“It’s always good to have him around once the quips start flying.”
    Through the massive front doors, Isobel could see the dancers swirling around the ballroom. Music drifted out to greet them on the soft evening breeze. The orchestra played a sprightly waltz, which sang over the sounds of conversation and pattering feet.
    The women floated in beautiful concoctions of diaphanous fabric, their jewelry glittering in the golden light of the candelabras. A heady mixture of flowers, food, and brandy perfumed the air.
    Isobel looked down at her gown of amber silk and hoped she looked like a countess. She touched the emerald and diamond necklace that her husband had given her, and took a deep breath.
    “The Earl and Countess of Ravenwood,” the butler announced, holding his arm out and motioning them ahead.
    “My dear,” Beckett said, “may I present the Earl and Countess of Whitcomb.”
    Her husband’s hand touched her lower back, steering her toward their hostess and her spouse.
    “She’s lovely, Beckett,” the aged noblewoman said, smiling. “Wherever did you find such a treasure?”
    “You know what they say about treasure, Lady Whitcomb,” Beckett replied. “One always comes across it buried in the most unusual places.”
    Their hosts eyed each other, shaking their heads.
    “Beckett, you are still the charmer, I see.” The countess laughed, then whispered to Isobel, “I hope you can handle him, my dear.”
    “I will certainly try, Lady Whitcomb,” Isobel replied.
    They passed through the outer doors and into the ballroom. “There,” Beckett said, “you’re through the first assault of this ballroom battle. Stay sharp, Lady Ravenwood. This is where it gets interesting.”
    He led her through the crowd, introducing her to so many viscounts, marquesses, earls, and even a few dukes, she knew she’d never remember all their names. Finally, he turned away from her to speak to a round little admiral with enough medals on his chest that it was a surprise he didn’t topple over.
    Isobel felt a man’s hand on her arm. Startled, she whirled around to find Alfred close beside her. “Lady Ravenwood, you look absolutely beautiful.” Languidly, he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Beckett demanded good-naturedly. “Trying to woo my wife, are you?”
    “Why, yes, actually,” Alfred replied. “She is the prettiest woman here.”
    “You’d better watch your tongue, Alfred. If you insist upon shamelessly flirting with my wife in such a manner, I may have to box your ears,” Beckett warned.
    “Hah!” Alfred scoffed. “I’d like to see you try, old man. Until then, I shall admire Lady Ravenwood’s stunning beauty to my heart’s content.”
    Alfred performed an elaborate bow for Isobel’s benefit, his mischievous dark eyes shining up at her. “Lady Ravenwood, would you do me the honor of accepting my request for a dance?”
    “I’m afraid I am not a very good dancer, Alfred,” she said.
    “Wonderful. Neither am I!”
    But he was a good dancer. The room spun around her as Alfred expertly maneuvered them through the crowd. Isobel felt weightless as she danced in the glow of the candlelight, but Alfred’s touch didn’t make her skin tingle as Beckett’s did. She glanced over at her husband.
    For a moment she forgot everything. For a moment, as she met her husband’s eyes across the room, and felt the heat of attraction quicken her blood.
    Less than a week ago, she would have thought it impossible to feel anything but fear. Right now, in this ballroom, the memory of Sir Harry and her flight from her home seemed only a bad dream.
    She would not think of it. She was safe now, surely. Sir Harry Lennox would never possess her or Hampton Park. He would never be able to make her his bride, now that she was another man’s wife.
    Isobel stole another glance at Beckett and saw his gaze upon her—a penetrating mixture of ice and fire. Instantly, the