The Heiress Bride Read Free

restlessness. Then, quite suddenly, she felt something strange sweep over her and knew, simply knew, that he had come into the room. She turned slightly in her chair and there he was. She sucked in her breath at the sight of him. He had just divested himself of a black cloak and was speaking quietly to another gentleman. He looked even more splendid to her than he had at the Portmaine ball. He was dressed all in black with a very white batiste shirt.His thick hair was brushed back, a bit long for current fashion, perhaps, but to her, perfection itself. He was seated at a diagonal from her, and if she kept her profile toward the bellowing soprano, she could look at him as much as she wanted. The moment he was seated, he grew instantly still. She watched him remain perfectly still, even as the soprano pumped up her lungs and gained a ringing high C. A man with courage and fortitude as well, she thought, nodding to herself. A man with manners and good breeding.
    Her fingers itched to touch that cleft in his chin. She saw that his jaw was strong and well defined, that his nose was elegant and thin and that his mouth made her want to . . . no, she had to get hold of herself. The dream images mixed in her mind for a moment and she knew herself well lost. Goodness, it was quite likely that he was already wed, or betrothed. She managed a show of outward calm until there was, at last, an adjournment to the supper room.
    She said in an offhand manner to Lord Clinton, a friend of Douglas’s from the Four Horse Club, who had escorted her to dinner, “Who is that man over there, Thomas? The tall one with the very black hair? You see him, he’s with those three other men who aren’t nearly as tall as he is or nearly as impressive.”
    Thomas Mannerly, Lord Clinton, squinted in the direction she was pointing. He was myopic, but the man in question did stand out, no question about that. The man was very tall and too well built for his own good, the bastard. “Ah, that’s Colin Kinross. He’s new to London. He’s the earl of Ashburnham, and a Scot.” The last was said with a hint of disdain.
    â€œWhy is he here, in London?”
    Thomas stared at the lovely girl at his side, nearly as tall as he was, and that was surely a bit off-putting, but he didn’t have to marry her, just keep an experienced eye on her. He said now, carefully, as he brushed some invisible lint from the sleeve of his black coat, “Why do you care, Sinjun?” At her silence, he stiffened. “My God, he hasn’t offended you in any way, has he? Those damned Scots, they’re barbarians, even when they’re educated in England, as he was.”
    â€œOh no, no. I just asked out of curiosity. The lobster patties are quite good, don’t you think?”
    He agreed, and Sinjun thought: At last I know his name. At last. She wanted to shout her victory. At last. Thomas Mannerly happened to look at her just then and he sucked in his breath at the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. He forgot the lobster patty on his plate. He said something to her, something polished and just a bit intimate, and was chagrined when she didn’t appear to have even heard him. She was, if he wasn’t mistaken, staring at that damned Scot.
    Sinjun was fretting within five minutes. She had to know more than just his name and the fact that he was a Scottish nobleman and why Thomas Mannerly had sounded a bit stiff about that. She didn’t have much opportunity to find out more about Colin Kinross that night, but she didn’t despair. It would soon be time to act.
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    Douglas Sherbrooke, earl of Northcliffe, was happily ensconced in his favorite leather chair in the library, reading the London Gazette, when he chanced to look up to see his sister standing in the doorway. Why the devil was she just standing there? She would normally come caroling in, speaking and laughing even before she had his