A Most Scandalous Proposal Read Free

words clipped to the point of rudeness, “but what’s that got to do with you?”
    Ludlowe sketched them a bow. “My great-grandfather was the third Earl of Clivesden’s younger brother.”
    Benedict surged forward with such force and suddenness that Julia laid a restraining hand on his forearm. “
You?
” he snarled. “You’re now Clivesden?”
    Ludlowe’s smile did not falter for an instant. “Not yet, but my claim is solid. I daresay the Lord Chancellor ought to accept it without delay.”
    “As long as the former earl’s widow isn’t in a delicate condition, you mean.” Benedict seemed to be forcing the words through gritted teeth.
    Julia slanted her eyes in his direction. What she could see of his neck above his cravat flushed red. Beneath her hand, the muscles in his arm had turned to steel. Why was he so upset over the circumstances? While tragic, to be certain, none of them had actually known Clivesden well.
    Ludlowe’s smile remained fixed. “Of course.”
    He stepped closer to Julia, and the muscles beneath her fingertips jerked.
    “I had hoped to keep the news quiet a bit longer. I might have known gossip would foil my plans.” He acknowledged Sophia with a nod, and she beamed at him from behind the protection of her fan.
    “Ah well,
c’est la vie
.” Ludlowe shrugged. “I hadn’t come over with the intention of discussing this matter. I was wondering if Miss Julia would care for the next dance.”
    If he hadn’t been looking her in the eye, Julia would never have credited the notion. When Ludlowe turned up at a ball, he remained decidedly ensconced in the card room or on the sidelines. He chatted with the ladies, he flirted outrageously, he might disappear into the gardens for long stretches, but he rarely danced.
    The lilting strains of violins in three-quarter time met her ears. Goodness. Ludlowe certainly never waltzed.
    An expectant silence fell over the group, while the music swelled around them. She couldn’t possibly, not with her sister standing right there, deflating a bit further with each joyous note. “I’m terribly sorry—”
    “She promised the next set to me,” Benedict said over her reply.
    “I’m sure Sophia would be delighted,” Julia added quickly. “That way, no one is disappointed.”
    Ludlowe hesitated a second too long before nodding. “Your servant. I must insist you save another dance for me later.”
    He didn’t wait for her reply. Offering his arm to a glowing Sophia, he led her to join the whirling couples already on the dance floor.
    Julia rounded on Benedict, who bent his left arm in invitation. “I believe this is our waltz.”
    She ignored him. “Are you planning to tell me what that was all about?”
    He held her gaze, the breadth of his shoulders blocking the flickering light from the crystal chandeliers. That disturbing intensity still lit their depths. And where had it come from along with his, well, protectiveness? She pressed her lips into a line and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other.
    “After this set. Meet me outside. For now, we’d better make a proper show of dancing. Just so no one is disappointed.”
    She took his arm, and he set off at such a clip that she stumbled after him through the crowd until they found a spot among the dancers.
    “Why can’t you tell me now?” she persisted. His brows lowered in disapproval, but she ignored the reaction. The waltz permitted conversation, after all.
    He set a solid arm about her waist, seized her hand, and spun her into the first turn. “Not here. Not where others might overhear.” He tipped his chin toward an orange turban swaying not far from them. “Lady Witless, for example.”
    At the nickname, Julia suppressed a laugh and tapped him on the shoulder with her fan. Benedict had so christened the old gossip two years ago when Lady Whitby’s spiteful tongue had run her afoul of a few other matrons who had overheard her and arranged to knock her into the punchbowl.