First Season / Bride to Be Read Free

not eat. Indeed, Anabel herself had started to feel the strain of the contest of wills before she thought to remind her mother of the time. Georgina had not spoken once during the short journey, and Lady Goring’s comments, though general, had retained an acerbic tone. Anabel was very glad to give her wrap to a footman and climb the stairs to greet her hostess. She would avoid her family until the entertainment put them in better frame, she decided.
    The ballroom was more crowded than she had expected, and the hum of talk and glitter of evening dress abruptly reminded Anabel that she loved parties. She had scarcely attended one since her husband died, at first because she was in mourning and then because she had somehow gotten out of the habit. Now she felt a rising excitement. London parties must be quite different from the dinners and small assemblies of the country. She had told her mother that she hadn’t minded missing her long-ago debut, but she remembered now that this wasn’t entirely true. She had pined a little for the balls and routs and Venetian breakfasts until she became so contented with Ralph and the children.
    â€œLady Wyndham,” said a voice behind her. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
    Anabel turned and greeted a woman she had met some time ago at a house party. “Mrs. Brandon, how pleasant to see you again.” She would have an easier time now than she would have had at eighteen, she realized. There were one or two familiar faces in the room.
    When they had exchanged commonplace news, Mrs. Brandon added, “You must come and meet my daughter. It is her first appearance in society, and she is naturally a bit uneasy. She will be so happy to see an acquaintance.”
    Glancing around, Anabel saw that her mother and Georgina were lingering near the door, the former scanning the crowd and the latter looking remarkably sulky. “I should be delighted,” she replied, and allowed herself to be led to the other side of the broad chamber.
    It was evident at once that Julia Brandon had no memory of meeting her and that she was by no means pleased to see either of them. A tall, Junoesque brunette, as Mrs. Brandon must have been before putting on flesh, Julia was talking to a gentleman when they came up, and her irritation at the interruption was almost as clear as her mother’s anxiety. Anabel surveyed him with interest and some amusement. What about the man inspired such disparate emotions in mother and daughter?
    Part of the answer was obvious immediately. He was extremely handsome. Julia Brandon’s height had made her companion’s less evident from a distance. Now, looking up, Anabel felt dwarfed. The two women outstripped her own moderate inches, but the man was taller still, and he held himself with a consummate assurance. His hair and coloring were dark, and he was blessed with the fine shoulders and well-molded legs to set off the high Corinthian mode he affected. Though Anabel had never lived in town, even she could recognize the elegance of his dark blue coat and fawn pantaloons, the one chaste fob dangling at the front of a severely unostentatious waistcoat. Here was an example of the nonpareils she had only heard of. Anabel was suddenly acutely aware of the outmoded cut of her evening dress. Her mother had assured her that it was fine enough for this early ball, but she wished now that some of the London gowns she had ordered had arrived to replace her old blue satin.
    Raising her eyes, she looked into the man’s face. The high cheekbones, broad forehead, and dark arched brows matched the rest of his appearance. His mouth looked haughty, she thought. And then she met his gaze.
    Anabel felt a shock run through her, from her throat to the pit of her stomach, leaving her shaken and absolutely astonished.
    The man’s eyes were a curious pale green, and they reflected a masterful and complex personality. That was clear at a glance. But why