Catch a Falling Heiress: An American Heiress in London Read Free Page B

nodded in agreement, and Jack returned his gaze to the man across the room, and when he saw Van Hausen pause and again pull out his pocket watch and glance at the door, he tensed, suddenly alert. “He keeps looking at his watch. We’re at a ball. Why should he care so much what time it is?”
    “Perhaps he’s just rattled,” Denys suggested. “As you said, he’s cornered, he’s without friends or resources, and he knows it. With luck, before the week is out, he’ll be in jail. Checking his watch is probably just a mindless action borne of frayed nerves.”
    Jack did not reply, for his attention was fixed on the object of their conversation. Van Hausen had shoved his watch back into his waistcoat pocket and was circling the room. For a moment, Jack thought he was actually coming to speak with them, but he passed them by without a glance, making for the doors into the ballroom where he paused to greet a young woman who had just come in.
    “Or,” Jack murmured, watching him capture the girl’s hands in his, “he’s been waiting for someone.”
    The moment he looked at her, Jack could see why.
    Her face, with its symmetrical shape and delicately molded nose and chin, was enough for any man to deem her pretty. Like most American girls, she had fine teeth, straight and white and curved in a dazzling smile. But those features were not what made Jack’s breath catch in his throat.
    God, what eyes , he thought, fully aware that he was staring, unable to look away. What lovely, lovely eyes.
    Deep-set and fringed by thick brown lashes, they seemed almost too large for her delicate face, but it was their color that made them extraordinary. Even from a dozen feet away, he could discern it—a deep, vivid blue, the vibrant hue of cornflowers at twilight.
    Her blond hair, piled high atop her head, accentuated her long, graceful neck and slim, straight shoulders. Untouched by the hot tongs so many girls employed, it gleamed beneath the crystal chandeliers, and he wondered suddenly what it would look like loose and falling around her shoulders.
    “I think you’re right, Jack,” Denys said beside him. “He’s been waiting for her.”
    Jack didn’t answer, for his attention was riveted on the girl. A wide expanse of her creamy skin was visible above the neckline of her ball gown, a neckline low enough to raise eyebrows in sedate, stuffy Newport. His gaze slid down, and he noted a slender waist and shapely hips sheathed in blush pink silk, and he could well imagine that beneath those skirts was a pair of absolutely ripping legs.
    But who was she? He lifted his gaze again to her face, a move that was of no help at all in identifying her. Although he’d spent almost a year ingratiating his way into the Knickerbocker set, he’d never seen this woman before. If he had, he’d remember.
    “By Jove,” James murmured, “what a pretty girl.”
    It was clear many men shared that opinion, for a quick glance around told Jack her arrival had not gone unnoticed by the other men in the ballroom. More important, Van Hausen was among her admirers, for he still had her hands firmly clasped in his.
    Jack turned to his companions. “Who the devil is she?”
    Both his friends shook their heads, but it was James who spoke. “You’re the one who’s been living here. Don’t you know?”
    He shot his friend an impatient glance. “Really, Pongo, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
    “No need to be so testy.” James returned his attention to the doorway. “Did you notice her eyes?”
    “I think any man would notice her eyes,” Denys put in with fervent appreciation, his gaze also straying back to the subject of the conversation.
    “Will the two of you stop gaping at her long enough to consider the vital point?” Jack muttered, his concern growing. “We do not know this woman, but it’s clear Van Hausen does.”
    He took another glance over her, and this time, he saw more than her stunning face and luscious shape. He saw