Utterly Devoted Read Free Page A

entire ton thought her worthy of admiration.
    How would they react if they knew the truth?
    The thought was completely unwelcome. She brought her foot down so firmly that Lord Nathaniel raised his brows. He could not know why she had to deal with such thoughts as firmly as she’d stamped her foot. She would not be ruled by fear any more than she’d once allowed herself to be ruled by passion.
    She knew the consequences of the choice she’d made all those years ago. Though a married woman might carry on any number of affairs if she were discreet, an unmarried woman of London Society could not admit to an indiscretion without forfeiting her future. That was why her romance with Jareth Darby remained a closely guarded secret.
    As far as she knew, only four people other than herself knew of her past. Cleo was her dear friend and would have died rather than breathe the secret to a soul. Her husband had become a friend and ally as well; Eloise knew she could count on Leslie Petersborough, Lord Hastings, to remain silent. Miss Martingale, headmistress of the Barnsley School for Young Ladies, had already proven she wanted no one to know that one of her charges had been less than chaste. That left only the villain of the story, Jareth Darby, and he was safely in exile on the Continent.
    Determined to capture the future she desired, she smiled and flirted and danced with ladylike restraint for the remainder of the set. Her performance must have been particularly convincing, for, as soon as the dance ended, Lord Nathaniel implored her to join him on a stroll about the hall. She glanced across the room to where Cleo was engaged in conversation with her husband and several others. Her friend would not miss her. She accepted his offered arm and they set off.
    Along the edges of the dance floor, any number of sofas and alcoves allowed the fashionable to converse. The first group they passed contained Lady Jersey, their hostess for the evening. The queen of London Society nodded in greeting as they passed. Eloise smiled in satisfaction.
    “Particularly lovely weather for this time of year,” Lord Nathaniel commented politely.
    “Oh, decidedly,” she said with more enthusiasm than the tired subject warranted. They passed a group of dowagers who smiled at them with approval. Eloise raised her head.
    They passed another group, this one of young people who talked and laughed, animated, carefree. One of the young men raised a lady’s hand to his lips in tribute, and she gazed at him raptly. Eloise swallowed.
    Suddenly a laugh turned to a shriek, and one of the ladies darted away from the group, directly into Eloise’s path. She recognized Portia Sinclair, who was on her first Season.
    Lord Nathaniel stopped with a frown, but Portia seemed heedless of his presence. Her attention was all for the young, dark-haired Major Churchill in dress regimentals, who had followed her from the group. She tossed her red-gold hair and swung a quizzing glass from her short fingers, daring him to retrieve it. When he reached for it, she slid it deftly down the tight bodice of her white muslin gown, then laughed at the look of chagrin on his handsome face.
    “A sorry showing,” Lord Nathaniel murmured as he detoured around her. “I believe Miss Sinclair grows more shocking with each ball.”
    Eloise glanced back and saw that Portia and the major were in deep conversation. Indeed, it was as if they had forgotten anyone else was in the room. She had been just as besotted. She shook her head. “Surely her activities can be ascribed to nothing more than high spirits.”
    “You are being kind, Miss Watkin. You see only the good in people.”
    Would that that were so , she thought. In truth, it was all too easy for her to suspect the worst of everyone she met. “I am merely speaking from my own experience,” she assured the viscount. “I was much like her, once.”
    “Never say so,” he replied, pressing her hand on his arm. “I will not believe you