clamped her lips together into a tight line. Anything she said would be an encouragement to him. But she couldn’t deny that his attentive flirting made warmth spread through her chest.
He led her through the turns and close holds of the minuet. At one point, when his hand touched her waist, the heat of his palm radiated through the layers of brocade.
Why couldn’t her insides flutter like this when the handsome Lord Edmondstone danced with her?
She refused to look at Sanders lest she be drawn into his big brown eyes.
When the music ended, he escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, then kept hold of her hand and walked her slowly toward an alcove with a window seat. Once they reached it she sat on the cushions, purposely positioning herself in the center and arranging her broad skirts around herself to discourage him from sitting as well.
Lord Sanders did not discourage easily. He pushed the yards of fabric out of the way and sat beside her as near as her panniers allowed.
“I’m surprise you don’t pull the curtains so you can hold me captive in here,” she said archly.
“A charming idea, but not now,” he said. “You see, I have something to tell you. It’s a secret.”
She glanced around the room. Lady Bettendorf was holding court in the far corner, no doubt regaling her little cadre with the latest and juiciest on dits . “In that case, we should move to a more private setting.”
“No. You know how court people are. If we slink away, they’ll scent a secret and follow, hoping to overhear a tidbit.” Sanders nodded and smiled across the room at an acquaintance. “We’re perfectly safe if we stay right here. They’d never believe I’d tell you something for your ears alone in such a public place.”
Her curiosity was thoroughly piqued. “What is it?”
“First, I have a question for you, and bear in mind I know you well enough to be able to tell if you try to lie to me.” Sanders leaned toward her. “Is your heart engaged in this match with Lord Edmondstone?”
She glanced across the room at the viscount who had joined the group of gossips and was chatting amiably with Lady Bettendorf. The lady preened and seemed to be enjoying herself, displaying her horse-sized teeth in a truly ghastly smile. To his credit, Lord Edmondstone didn’t recoil in horror. Anyone who could charm that old bat redefined charming. There was no denying that the viscount would be an ornament to Florence’s arm and more importantly, the match with him would please her father out of all knowing.
“Lord Edmondstone is the duke’s choice,” she said. “Not mine.”
“Pity His Grace can’t wed the man then,” Sanders said. “Then you could both be happy.”
She almost swatted him with her fan, but decided it might seem as if they were flirting. Instead she fluttered the ivory and feathers before her bosom and tried to look bored, but she burned to know Sander’s secret. “What have you to tell me?”
“Just that I have it on good authority that Viscount Edmondstone is planning to compromise a young lady in the second floor parlour at midnight.” Sanders caught up one of her hands and held it between both of his. “Once they’re discovered, they’ll be forced to wed.”
Florence swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Part of her was furious that Edmondstone would publicly court her and privately choose someone else. But another part of her was strangely relieved.
Her father couldn’t blame her for the match failing if the viscount were that indiscreet.
Or could he?
The duke was completely taken with his theories of horse breeding. He’d waxed long and eloquently about how the same principles should be applied to people. He never gave Florence a moment’s peace about producing exceedingly fair grandchildren for him and lost no opportunity to promote the match with the handsome Edmondstone. The last message from her father’s solicitor confirmed that the amount of her dowry, an offer
He led her through the turns and close holds of the minuet. At one point, when his hand touched her waist, the heat of his palm radiated through the layers of brocade.
Why couldn’t her insides flutter like this when the handsome Lord Edmondstone danced with her?
She refused to look at Sanders lest she be drawn into his big brown eyes.
When the music ended, he escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, then kept hold of her hand and walked her slowly toward an alcove with a window seat. Once they reached it she sat on the cushions, purposely positioning herself in the center and arranging her broad skirts around herself to discourage him from sitting as well.
Lord Sanders did not discourage easily. He pushed the yards of fabric out of the way and sat beside her as near as her panniers allowed.
“I’m surprise you don’t pull the curtains so you can hold me captive in here,” she said archly.
“A charming idea, but not now,” he said. “You see, I have something to tell you. It’s a secret.”
She glanced around the room. Lady Bettendorf was holding court in the far corner, no doubt regaling her little cadre with the latest and juiciest on dits . “In that case, we should move to a more private setting.”
“No. You know how court people are. If we slink away, they’ll scent a secret and follow, hoping to overhear a tidbit.” Sanders nodded and smiled across the room at an acquaintance. “We’re perfectly safe if we stay right here. They’d never believe I’d tell you something for your ears alone in such a public place.”
Her curiosity was thoroughly piqued. “What is it?”
“First, I have a question for you, and bear in mind I know you well enough to be able to tell if you try to lie to me.” Sanders leaned toward her. “Is your heart engaged in this match with Lord Edmondstone?”
She glanced across the room at the viscount who had joined the group of gossips and was chatting amiably with Lady Bettendorf. The lady preened and seemed to be enjoying herself, displaying her horse-sized teeth in a truly ghastly smile. To his credit, Lord Edmondstone didn’t recoil in horror. Anyone who could charm that old bat redefined charming. There was no denying that the viscount would be an ornament to Florence’s arm and more importantly, the match with him would please her father out of all knowing.
“Lord Edmondstone is the duke’s choice,” she said. “Not mine.”
“Pity His Grace can’t wed the man then,” Sanders said. “Then you could both be happy.”
She almost swatted him with her fan, but decided it might seem as if they were flirting. Instead she fluttered the ivory and feathers before her bosom and tried to look bored, but she burned to know Sander’s secret. “What have you to tell me?”
“Just that I have it on good authority that Viscount Edmondstone is planning to compromise a young lady in the second floor parlour at midnight.” Sanders caught up one of her hands and held it between both of his. “Once they’re discovered, they’ll be forced to wed.”
Florence swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Part of her was furious that Edmondstone would publicly court her and privately choose someone else. But another part of her was strangely relieved.
Her father couldn’t blame her for the match failing if the viscount were that indiscreet.
Or could he?
The duke was completely taken with his theories of horse breeding. He’d waxed long and eloquently about how the same principles should be applied to people. He never gave Florence a moment’s peace about producing exceedingly fair grandchildren for him and lost no opportunity to promote the match with the handsome Edmondstone. The last message from her father’s solicitor confirmed that the amount of her dowry, an offer
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