Louise M. Gouge Read Free

harming his own interests. With no one else to fill that office, he held out his hand.
    “Miss Hart, may I have the honor of this dance? You see, I have lost my partner to another gentleman, and only you can rescue me from utter mortification.”
    Gasping, she looked up sharply and stared at him.
    For an instant, he could not breathe as a new sort of shock slammed into his chest. Never in his three and twenty years had he seen a more exquisite female face. A perfect oval, with a fetching widow’s peak, though he doubted this young lady was a widow. Sparkling dark brown eyes fringed by long black lashes. He had never before noticed any lady’s eyelashes. A faint pink blush of chagrin remained on her ivory cheeks, and her full, smooth lips invited— But he would not think such an inappropriate thought.
    She placed her hand in his and slowly rose. Again shock pummeled him, for the graceful ascent of her slender form lifted the top of her thick, smooth coiffeur to perhaps three inches short of his own height of almost six feet. Miss Hart was by far the most elegant, dare he say regal lady he had ever set eyes upon. He stood staring, unable to move until she gazed up at him soulfully and smiled.
    “I thank you for your gallantry, Lord Winston. Perhaps we shall rescue each other from mortification.” The music of her dulcet alto voice settled into him like the purr of his favorite cat.
    * * *
    Catherine could hardly control her laughter. Attracting Lord Winston’s interest was far easier than she had ever imagined. Spending her entire life in the country, she’d had little to do with gentlemen of her station, for when Mama married an impoverished French comte fleeing the Reign of Terror, her family had not entirely welcomed the alliance. Further, she had never counted her appearance as her best asset, for she was too slender, and her unusual height often brought more disdain than admiration.
    But Lord Winston’s awestruck expression and obvious approval revealed a certain guilelessness at odds with the arrogance he had displayed at Monsieur Angelus’s academy this afternoon. In fact, she had to admit she admired him in return, at least in a physical sense. His height exceeded hers by perhaps three or four inches, and his impossibly curly blond hair had been coiffed with care, unlike the sweat-dampened coils he had sported after their match.
    With a wave of her fan, she made a show of dismissing her feigned chagrin over Lady Blakemore’s comment regarding her lack of dance partners. Her employer had no idea that Catherine had refused several invitations. Of course, Society decreed that once a young lady refused an offer from one gentleman, she must not accept another for the entire evening. But after they all turned their backs on Papa, she had little care for Society’s dictates.
    Although the dancers were assembling, the baron did not move, but continued to gaze at her, a half smile on his finely sculpted lips.
    She nodded toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”
    He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.” As he led her to the floor, the smile that lit his entire face gave him a charmingly youthful appearance.
    Now a giddy feeling stirred within Catherine, but she forced herself to remember why she was here. This man—she would not think of him as a gentleman—was not some innocent, harmless soul. He was responsible for the destruction of her family. Even now, Mama, Lucien and Isabella lived under the constant threat of being thrown out of Mama’s ancestral home, all the while suffering the indignities heaped upon the relatives of a suspected traitor and assassin.
    With great difficulty, Catherine forced her mind to the present, forced her hand to relax in Lord Winston’s gentle grasp as they joined other guests for a country dance. At the end of the line, he released her to stand opposite with the other ladies as more couples continued to join them. The music began, and the couple at the top of the line set out on