Once Upon a Wicked Night Read Free

tight circle, surprising her, then clasped his arm around her waist in a firmer grip.
    “Oh!” she exclaimed, breathless, as the satin of her skirts swished around her calves before settling at her ankles.
    “Did you like that?” He grinned at her. She liked the way he looked when he smiled.
    “Oh, yes.”
    He spun her again, and then again, and laughter bubbled in her chest and then spilled out as they settled back into the rhythm of the waltz.
    He bent down to whisper into her ear, “Look. They’re all staring at us.”
    Olivia’s body went tight all over, and she nearly stumbled. “Oh, dear.”
    “No, no,” he assured her, quickly righting her and guiding them both back into the pattern. “It’s not that we’ve done anything wrong. It’s because they’re envious.”
    “About our dancing?”
    “Perhaps that’s why the ladies stare. I’m certain, though, that the gentlemen stare because they are envious of me.”
    “Envious of you?” She gave him a quizzical look. Because of his title, perhaps? But that didn’t make sense.
    “Mmm, yes. Envious that I am the one who has been bestowed the honor of dancing the waltz with the loveliest lady at tonight’s rout.”
    She tore her gaze from his and stared at his wool-clad shoulder. “Oh.”
    His words were simple flattery; she was well aware that she wasn’t the loveliest lady here—there were so many more beautiful and more elegant women present.
    But Lord Fenwicke was clearly flirting with her now. And he was married. Was it a normal practice for the married gentlemen of the
ton
to flirt with unattached ladies? Truly, she didn’t know what to do, how to respond to this behavior.
    “Does that embarrass you, Miss Donovan?”
    “Of course not,” she said in a near whisper. She wasn’t a liar by nature, but she was too disconcerted to tell him the truth. Not to mention that the truth, in this circumstance, would make her look like the inexperienced fool she clearly was.
    His arm was tight around her waist, and he kept her hand firmly clasped in his own. His body pressed against hers, and she could feel his…
    A bolt of clarity swept through Olivia. She was completely out of her depth. This man was experienced, suave, and while Olivia couldn’t begin to comprehend his motivations, Lord Fenwicke knew exactly what he was doing.
    Soon the waltz ended, and Lord Fenwicke gave Olivia his arm and led her from the dance floor. She glanced around, looking for one of her sisters or Jonathan and finding none of them. Jonathan and Serena were probably still upstairs, but Jessica should be nearby.
    She and Lord Fenwicke ultimately ventured toward the punch table, and he disengaged her arm from his for long enough to whip his hand out and take a crystal glass filled with bubbling champagne punch from the table. He handed it to her with a little bow. “For you, Miss Donovan.”
    “Thank you.” After the vigorous dance and the rollicking emotions and confusion she’d experienced during it, Olivia’s mouth was dry, and she took the glass gratefully. She put her lips to the edge and drank half of it in one swallow. It was sweet and bubbly. Delicious.
    Lord Fenwicke took his own glass and offered his arm again. She hesitated, but then, not knowing what else to do and not wishing to be rude, she threaded her arm through his.
    “I do see your gaze darting about.” He gave a little chuckle. “You look rather like a trapped bird, Olivia. But it seems your sister and brother-in-law have vacated the premises. Never fear, my dear. I shall remain with you until your happy family is reunited.”
    She took another gulp of champagne. The drink was already moving through her veins—a tingling rush of blood just beneath her skin.
    “Shall we hunt for them?” he asked, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.
    It was quite all right that Jessica, Serena, and Jonathan had disappeared. She needn’t panic. Lord Fenwicke wouldn’t abandon her to the vultures surrounding them, all