An Unexpected Proposal (St Daine Family 1) Read Free Page B

crossed the remaining distance between them, remembering too late his grandmother’s current obsession with playing matchmaker.
    Straightening, he braced himself for what was sure to be a less than pleasant few minutes of acceptable conversation, frowning when Phoebe used the moment and her grandmother's consent to her sugary plea to spend a moment with Lady Christina to make her escape.
    The ladies curtsied, of course, polite utterances of “Your Grace,” falling from their lips in succession.
    Phoebe slipped away before introductions could be made, knowing deuced well she was to have remained by his side. The minx. Likely, she had known full well what was about to occur, and given that she had neglected to forewarn him, Lucien found himself rather effectively trapped into his grandmother's most current matchmaking scheme.
    Amelia St. Daine claimed she only wanted to see him happily settled, but Lucien knew better. She had decided to find him a bride—for no other reason than she thought it high time he settled down with a woman who: one—would not bring shame to the Rothwyn title, and two—who would bear him heirs in order to continue the rapidly dwindling St. Daine line. His grandmother loved him, this he knew of a certainty, but so, too, did he realize she was not above pulling strings and meddling in his affairs if such was what it took to get her way.
    Without warning, his earlier interest paled. The thought of approaching the raven-haired beauty now was suddenly no longer appealing. Still, he smiled and went through the tired, well-practiced motions of bowing before he pressed the most polite of kisses to the ladies' silk-clad knuckles. He feigned attention while his gaze wandered the crowd, his eyes busily searching for a hint of blue in the crush of fabrics that would reveal his sister's whereabouts. Cursing Phoebe for running off, leaving him to deal with the misguided machinations of their grandmother alone, he pasted a polite smile upon his lips and let his eyes roam the crowded ballroom once more but Phoebe seemed to have disappeared. Giving up for the moment, he allowed his focus to return to Lady Claire and her friend.
    "Do we bore you, Your Grace?"
    Surprise at her rather blunt observation brought Lucien's gaze swinging to Lady Claire. He peered at her, wondering where inside that tightly laced corset of hers she had found the cheek to upbraid him—and in public, no less.
    Her eyes flashed with ill-concealed dislike and Lucien found himself slightly taken aback and completely at a loss as to what he could have done to merit such a display. As far as he knew, other than their brief introduction in the receiving line, they had not previously met – so why should he now be the recipient of the obvious animosity in her gaze?
    Smiling tightly, he said, “That remains to be seen. The three of us have shared not a word outside of introductions. Given that, I find it quite beyond me to say for certain whether or not I should find your conversational skills lacking, no matter how tasteless and deficient in both tact and good manners it would be for me to do so.”
    Her back stiffened. She held herself upright with remarkable aplomb in light of his curt response, he thought, and her expression somehow remained the very picture of polite. But her eyes...
    His lips twitched, but Lucien held his silence, his gaze once more busily scanning the crowd for Phoebe whilst he awaited her response. He anticipated nothing less than a most cutting rejoinder, but, alas, she said nothing. Instead, it was Lady Melisande who spoke up—to defend him, of all things.
    “Now, now. Let us not forget our manners, shall we?” she attempted to soothe. “I am sure His Grace was not ignoring us on purpose.”
    She spoke as if her comments were directed toward Lady Claire but her bright gaze never wavered from his. Her slow, sweet smile brought a dimple to bear.
    “Perhaps the quiet of Rothwyn House is more to your liking? If so, I