Read Online The Secret Mistress by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Balogh
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Regency, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, Regency Fiction, Nobility
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sound like a lovestruck mooncalf.
Both ladies were looking at him with interest.
“She certainly is striking,” his mother said. “And charming. She has a vitality not always apparent in girls new to the
ton
. And she was obviously pleased to meet
you
, Edward. She could scarcely keep her eyes off you. You are looking remarkably distinguished this evening. Is he not, Lorraine?”
“Edward
always
looks distinguished,” Lorraine said, smiling fondly at him.
Edward sighed inwardly. One hour. One hour from now the ball would have begun and the first set would be over. Then he could relax.
Why did one hour seem like an eternity?
T HE NEXT HALF hour, Angeline thought as the long line of guests gradually became a trickle and finally stopped altogether. The orchestra members on the dais were beginning to tune their instruments as though they fully intended to use them soon. The next half hour was going to be the most fateful, the most wonderful of her entire life. It was, in fact, going to be the beginning of the rest of her life.
The blissful beginning.
When Tresham had turned sideways in the line and the twoladies had done likewise and Angeline had been able to see the gentleman who was with them …
Well. There were simply no words.
And when she had heard the echo of the names the majordomo had recited a moment before and she had realized that
this
was the Earl of Heyward, with whom she was to dance the opening set …
Well
.
There were simply no
thoughts
.
Except that suddenly she had had one—a thought, that was—and had almost suffered a heart attack as a result.
“The
Countess
of Heyward?” she had asked Tresham, a hint of a squeak in her voice just before he turned back to greet the next guests in line. “I am to dance the opening set of my come-out ball with a
married man
?”
The possibility that he was
married
had never once crossed her mind.
“The countess is his sister-in-law,” he had explained. “She was married to his brother, the late Heyward and one devil of a fine fellow.”
Of course. She had
known
that. Rosalie had arranged the opening set with
the widowed Countess of Heyward
.
Then another thought had struck her.
A dry old stick?
But Tresham was greeting someone else and was about to introduce her. Oh, goodness, there were
so
many new faces to memorize and so many names to put with those faces. She stopped even trying.
He was the Earl of Heyward
.
Single
.
And she was going to dance off into the rest of her life with him
.
Into happily-ever-after
, even though she had never believed in such a ridiculous notion.
Suddenly she did.
And the next half hour was to be all hers.
All theirs.
He came striding toward her as soon as she stepped inside the ballroom, Tresham on her right, Cousin Rosalie on her left, a look of firm purpose on his face as though this was a very serious moment. As though it was something that
mattered
to him.
As perhaps it was.
Angeline stopped herself only just in time from clasping her hands to her bosom. It had not escaped her attention, focused though she was on the Earl of Heyward, that simply
everyone
in the ballroom was looking at her. Of course everyone was. It was not even conceited to believe so. This was her ball, and she would lead off the first set. Besides, she was the most eligible young lady in London this year. She was the sister of the Duke of Tresham.
The Earl of Heyward stopped in front of her, inclined his head to both Rosalie and Tresham, and then fixed his eyes upon her. His beautifully
blue
eyes.
“This is my set, I believe, Lady Angeline,” he said.
He was holding out a hand toward her, palm down.
She felt as though she must just have run five miles against a stiff wind. She smiled and decided not to open her fan. The last thing she needed was
more
breeze.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you, my lord.”
And she placed her hand on the back of his—it was firm and warm—and stepped out onto the empty dance floor with
Both ladies were looking at him with interest.
“She certainly is striking,” his mother said. “And charming. She has a vitality not always apparent in girls new to the
ton
. And she was obviously pleased to meet
you
, Edward. She could scarcely keep her eyes off you. You are looking remarkably distinguished this evening. Is he not, Lorraine?”
“Edward
always
looks distinguished,” Lorraine said, smiling fondly at him.
Edward sighed inwardly. One hour. One hour from now the ball would have begun and the first set would be over. Then he could relax.
Why did one hour seem like an eternity?
T HE NEXT HALF hour, Angeline thought as the long line of guests gradually became a trickle and finally stopped altogether. The orchestra members on the dais were beginning to tune their instruments as though they fully intended to use them soon. The next half hour was going to be the most fateful, the most wonderful of her entire life. It was, in fact, going to be the beginning of the rest of her life.
The blissful beginning.
When Tresham had turned sideways in the line and the twoladies had done likewise and Angeline had been able to see the gentleman who was with them …
Well. There were simply no words.
And when she had heard the echo of the names the majordomo had recited a moment before and she had realized that
this
was the Earl of Heyward, with whom she was to dance the opening set …
Well
.
There were simply no
thoughts
.
Except that suddenly she had had one—a thought, that was—and had almost suffered a heart attack as a result.
“The
Countess
of Heyward?” she had asked Tresham, a hint of a squeak in her voice just before he turned back to greet the next guests in line. “I am to dance the opening set of my come-out ball with a
married man
?”
The possibility that he was
married
had never once crossed her mind.
“The countess is his sister-in-law,” he had explained. “She was married to his brother, the late Heyward and one devil of a fine fellow.”
Of course. She had
known
that. Rosalie had arranged the opening set with
the widowed Countess of Heyward
.
Then another thought had struck her.
A dry old stick?
But Tresham was greeting someone else and was about to introduce her. Oh, goodness, there were
so
many new faces to memorize and so many names to put with those faces. She stopped even trying.
He was the Earl of Heyward
.
Single
.
And she was going to dance off into the rest of her life with him
.
Into happily-ever-after
, even though she had never believed in such a ridiculous notion.
Suddenly she did.
And the next half hour was to be all hers.
All theirs.
He came striding toward her as soon as she stepped inside the ballroom, Tresham on her right, Cousin Rosalie on her left, a look of firm purpose on his face as though this was a very serious moment. As though it was something that
mattered
to him.
As perhaps it was.
Angeline stopped herself only just in time from clasping her hands to her bosom. It had not escaped her attention, focused though she was on the Earl of Heyward, that simply
everyone
in the ballroom was looking at her. Of course everyone was. It was not even conceited to believe so. This was her ball, and she would lead off the first set. Besides, she was the most eligible young lady in London this year. She was the sister of the Duke of Tresham.
The Earl of Heyward stopped in front of her, inclined his head to both Rosalie and Tresham, and then fixed his eyes upon her. His beautifully
blue
eyes.
“This is my set, I believe, Lady Angeline,” he said.
He was holding out a hand toward her, palm down.
She felt as though she must just have run five miles against a stiff wind. She smiled and decided not to open her fan. The last thing she needed was
more
breeze.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you, my lord.”
And she placed her hand on the back of his—it was firm and warm—and stepped out onto the empty dance floor with
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