The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance Read Free Page A

laid his hand over hers. “I am no longer a boy. It will be a much more complex experience for me. When I fall in love it will be deeply and completely and for ever.”
    It was her turn to sigh. How she wished she could be the object of such a love. His love.
    He rose and took Lydia’s hand to help her from the chair, then kissed it. “For luck,” he said and led her back to her mother.
    For the next hour and more, Lydia danced with other gentlemen. Her mother encouraged her to accept the attentions of each of them, as it was her fondest hope to see Lydia engaged by the season’s end. It was, after all, her second season. One more and she would be edging closer towards bona fide spinsterhood. Frankly, if she could not have Geoffrey, she would as soon be a spinster. It was not in her nature to settle for second best.
    It was a heady experience to watch Geoffrey gaze at her across the room as though he could not tear his eyes from her. She could at least pretend it was real, couldn’t she? Or was it worse to know what it would feel like to have him look at her with love in his eyes than never to have known it at all? Was she setting herself up for disappointment and heartbreak?
    Others noticed Geoffrey’s obvious attention. Her friend Daphne Hughes pulled her aside and peppered her with questions, certain that Lydia was hiding something from her. Worst of all, her mother noticed. “I cannot fathom what has come over him,” she said. “It’s as though he suddenly realized what a beauty you are. I won’t quibble over it, though. He’d be a fine catch for you, my dear. With your glossy dark curls and his golden hair, you will make a stunning couple.”
    Her maternal hopes were encouraged when Geoffrey came to claim her for the supper dance — a waltz, no less. She positively beamed when he led her daughter on to the floor.
    “You might want to ease up on the calf’s eyes, Mr Danforth,” she whispered. “My mother is getting ideas.”
    “Is she? Well, that only plays right into our plans, does it not? If my blatant attentions are seen to meet with Mrs Bettridge’s approval, then we have Tennison exactly where we want him: very much aware that another man desires you. Look, he has just led out Mrs Wadsworth for the waltz. Let’s move a bit closer to them so he won’t miss the way my rapt gaze drinks in the perfection of your bosom.”
    The music began before she could respond, and soon she forgot all about his impertinence. His hand was warm at her waist and, as her hand rested upon his shoulder, she could feel the strength of his muscles beneath the fine velvet of his jacket. He moved with such grace and confidence that she barely had to think about where to put her feet. His lead was sure.
    It might just be the nearest she would ever come to being held in his arms. She closed her eyes and relished the moment.
    “Tired?” he asked. “You have danced every dance. You will no doubt welcome the respite of supper.”
    “Hmm,” she said, meaning:
I will welcome any time I can spend with you, but especially twirling about the floor in your arms
. She opened her eyes, looked directly into his, and hoped he might somehow read her thoughts.
    “You are playing your part very well, too, Lydia. I swear you look as besotted as I do. And don’t look now, but Tennison is actually paying attention. Our ploy has worked. His eyes are all for you, my girl.” He muttered something else under his breath but she couldn’t be sure what it was.
    He pressed his hand against the back of her waist and pulled her a fraction closer.
    Lydia supposed she ought to glance over at Lord Tennison now and then, just to maintain the charade, but she only had eyes for one man, and she was dancing with him. The sheer bliss of the waltz ended too soon, and as it was the supper dance it was a short set. Geoffrey kept his hand lightly on her back as he led her into the supper room.
    He guided her to a small table meant for two, and