A Bargain With Fate. Ann Cree Elizabeth

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      She jerked away from him. Irritation replaced the unwelcome sensation she’d felt at his touch. ‘Please excuse me, my lord.’

      ‘But I have looked forward to seeing you all evening. You cannot mean to leave me now when I have finally found you.’

      The hated colour flooded her face at the implication that he actually hoped to see her. Of course, she didn’t believe it for a moment. ‘I must find my grandmother. I do not have time for idle chatter.’

      He laughed. ‘Is there any other sort at these tedious affairs? But never mind, I wanted to see you for a particular reason. I have something for you.’

      ‘Something for me?’

      ‘Yes, your fan. I believe you dropped it in my drawing room. I wanted to return it to you.’

      ‘You’ve been carrying my fan around?’

      ‘In the remote chance I might see you.’ He reached under his evening coat, towards his white embroidered waistcoat.

      She nearly grabbed his hand. ‘No, please, not here.’ What would people think if they saw him pull a fan from his pocket and present it to her?

      ‘Shall I call on you, then?’

      ‘No! I mean, why can you not send it to me?’

      ‘But I want to give it to you in person, to make certain you get it, of course. I was hoping we could become better acquainted.’

      ‘I have no desire to become better acquainted with you, my lord.’

      ‘But I would like the opportunity to change your mind.’ A lazy half-smile, full of meaning, curled the edges of his mouth as he let his leisurely gaze travel over her person.

      Mesmerised, she stared back. It occurred to her that his eyes were really not black at all, but the deepest, richest shade of brown she’d ever seen. And would his thick midnight hair, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, feel as soft and silky to her touch as it looked?

      What was she thinking of?

      ‘Never! You’ll never change my mind!’

      She whirled away, only to find her escape blocked by two ladies standing directly behind them. They gasped and stared, their fans stopped in mid-air. From the looks of pleasurable shock on their faces, she had little doubt they had heard her every word.

      Lord Stamford nodded to the ladies, who tittered and turned away. Grasping Rosalyn’s arm, he bent his head towards her, and said conversationally, ‘It’s best not to pick a quarrel with me in public. It will hardly ease your entrée into society.’

      Her mouth fell open. Pick a quarrel with him? He was doing his best to provoke her.

      ‘However, any time you wish to quarrel with me in private I would be delighted to accommodate you.’

      ‘If you had an ounce of sensibility you would realise that, under the circumstances, I want neither to speak to you nor to see you.’

      ‘I take it you refer to the business with your brother. I cannot see what it has to do with you or…with you and me.’

      She was floundering, badly out of her depth. Nothing in her limited experience with the opposite sex had ever prepared her to deal with a man such as Lord Stamford, a man with devastatingly dark expressive eyes, a man as handsome as the devil himself, a man who was flirting with her in a blatantly sensual fashion that caused her to feel vulnerable and utterly confused.

      Desperate, she looked around for escape. With relief, she saw Lady Carlyn winding her way towards them. Her relief was short-lived when she noted the look of utter disbelief on her grandmother’s face. What if Lord Stamford said something about this morning?

      He must have read her mind for he said, ‘There is no need to fear, my lady. I promise I will not tell your grandmother how you called on me in such a bold manner without so much as a maid to accompany you. As far as I am concerned, our first meeting has only now taken place. Of course, I shall not mention your fan. I will find a more private moment to return it to you.’

      The wicked spark in his eye did nothing to reassure her, but it was too late to do a thing. Lady Carlyn had already made her way to them.

      Lord Stamford’s mouth curved in a disarming smile as he bowed over her plump hand. ‘Lady Carlyn, I have just had the delightful opportunity of meeting your granddaughter. She is as lovely and charming as her grandmother.’

      Lady Carlyn fluttered her lashes at him in a disgustingly flirtatious fashion. ‘It’s no use trying to turn my head at my age, young man. Rosalyn is much lovelier than I ever was. But how did you come to make her acquaintance? With a proper introduction, I trust?’

      His eyes danced. ‘Not at all. I was forced to introduce myself after she stumbled into my arms. Quite by accident, of course. But now that I have met her…I hope to secure your permission to call on her.’

      A peculiar expression crossed her grandmother’s face. ‘You may, but I’ll have you know I intend to keep a strict watch on her. She may be a widow, but she is not one of your flirts. I will not have you trifling with her.’

      He turned his gaze on Rosalyn who felt as if she’d turned to stone. ‘I shall behave with the utmost propriety.’

      ‘That I shall have to see to believe.’ Lady Carlyn stared at him for a moment. ‘Very well, you may call on her.’

      Rosalyn had to put a stop to this. ‘It is quite doubtful that I would ever be at home to you, my lord.’ And how could they discuss her as if she were in leading strings with no mind of her own? She did not know which one to strangle first.

      ‘Nonsense. Of course you will, dear.’ Lady Carlyn shot her a quelling glance.

      A smile of pure devilment quirked his mouth. ‘Unfortunately, I must depart now. I will see you soon, very soon, Lady Jeffreys.’ Her name sounded like a caress on his lips.

      He made an elaborate leg and strode off. Lady Carlyn watched his dark-haired figure weave its way through the crush.

      With a bemused expression, she took Rosalyn’s arm. ‘My dear, I can scarcely believe this! Lord Stamford wishes to call on you. I cannot image why; he never pays the slightest heed to any respectable woman. Surely he cannot think that…no, of course not. Not with you dressed in that gown!’

      ‘Isn’t it fortunate that I wore it, then,’ Rosalyn replied with a humourless smile. Her simply cut blue gown had been a source of contention between them, Lady Carlyn declaring it was fit only for a Methodist.

      Rosalyn barely noticed as they made their goodbyes to Lady Winthrope, descended the crowded staircase, and waited a good twenty minutes for the carriage to be brought around. Her thoughts were totally occupied with the icy set-downs she planned to give Lord Stamford.

      It wasn’t until they had settled into the carriage and her grandmother spoke that Rosalyn started out of her reverie.

      ‘My dear, what do you think of Lord Stamford? I hadn’t even considered him. But now that I think of it—he would do quite nicely. No woman would СКАЧАТЬ