Utterly Devoted Read Free Page B

were ever anything but perfect, Miss Watkin.”
     “You are too kind, my lord,” she returned, but somehow his praise did not warm her.
    They passed two more groups before Lord Nathaniel spoke again. “Will you be receiving callers later this week, Miss Watkin?”
    She blinked, but quickly recovered her poise. Was this what she had waited for? “Certainly, Lord Nathaniel,” she assured him. “I hope I shall always be home to you.”
    “Now you are too kind,” he murmured. He paused, and she was forced to stop as well. He gazed warmly down at her. “I hope you know, Miss Watkin, that I hold you in the highest esteem.”
    His voice positively trembled with emotion, and Eloise could not help but be touched. He truly was a worthy fellow. “I hope you know, my lord,” she replied, “that I highly esteem you as well.”
    His look grew even warmer, and she thought that if they had not been in Almack’s, he might have kissed her. She felt a momentary flutter at the thought. He did not seem to notice, merely squeezing her hand with fervor before turning her back the way they had come.
    “I should return you to your friends,” he said.
    She was ready to agree when she saw him.
    Along the wall in the direction they were moving, stood Jareth Darby, staring at her. The man and woman at his side were staring as well, but Eloise barely noticed them. She could not take her eyes from Jareth. He looked much as she still pictured him, tall, lean, confident, platinum-haired, and devilishly handsome. She could not seem to take in more. Indeed, all coherent thought had fled. She must have hesitated, for Lord Nathaniel’s grip on her arm tightened as if in support.
    “Is something wrong, Miss Watkin?” he asked.
    She shook her head, more to clear the apparition than to answer him. The dance ended, and couples parted. People passed her, intent on securing new partners. When she could see down the wall again, the tall, elegant woman stood alone. The devil had fled with Eloise’s composure.
    She let out her breath. Was this some dream of her feverish brain? He could not be in London. Surely she would have heard. No, more likely her thoughts of matrimony had conjured him. It was a sign of her uncertainty in the future, nothing more. All perspective brides were allowed second thoughts.
    “I am fine,” she assured Lord Nathaniel. “Perhaps just a bit winded from the dance.”
    “Quite understandable. Shall I procure you a glass of lemonade?”
    The thought of being alone was suddenly terrifying. She glanced about but saw no sign of Cleo or Leslie. She clutched at his arm. “No, that is unnecessary. If we could find a seat?”
    “Of course.” He paused to glance around the room. “Ah, yes, I see a free sofa directly opposite.”
    She followed his gaze and gasped. Standing beside the sofa, resplendent in his coat and breeches of blue velvet, was Jareth Darby. He must have noticed her staring, for he made her a bow.
    “Do you see him?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
    “See whom?” Lord Nathaniel asked.
    The crowds milled and parted again. The space beside the sofa was empty.
    A laugh bubbled out of her, sounding hysterical to her. “Apparently no one. Perhaps I need that lemonade after all. My mouth is suddenly quite dry.”
    “Your servant, madam.” He bowed over her hand and strode across the floor, to be quickly swallowed up in the crowd going toward the refreshments.
    Alone, she wrapped one arm about her waist. What was wrong with her that she conjured ghosts? Did some part of her not believe she deserved a kind, considerate husband like Lord Nathaniel? She thought she had stamped out those fears and self-doubts. She had earned her place in Society. She had prayed, reformed, done good deeds to atone. She had been accepted. She refused to lose that acceptance now and by her own imagination.
    She forced herself to drop her hold and stand tall. A gentleman passing raised a quizzing glass for a better look at