A Waltz in the Park Read Online Free

place.
    “You tempt me,” the lady responded at last.  “But alas, I’ve an injury that keeps me from dancing for a few days.”
    Gallantly, he refrained from pointing out that her injury allowed her to stroll easily enough in the park.  Relentless, he continued.  “Well, then, I shall look forward to sitting out a set in your fair company.”
    He’d trapped her.  She couldn’t escape now unless she failed to attend the ball altogether.
    “Yes, of course.”  Her face was set.  “But we must move on now.”  She glanced about her for support.
    He faced the chorus of agreement with bland acceptance.  “Until the ball, then.”  He bowed again.
    She nodded and pressed forward.  The group accompanying her followed, parting and flowing around him like a river around a rock, while he stood, staring and musing, after her.
    “She’ll avoid you if she can, you know.”
    He barely glanced at the young lady who had detached herself from the tail of the group long enough to address him.
    “Will she?” he asked thoughtfully.
    “She must, I’m afraid.  She cannot afford to fraternize with someone innocent maidens have been warned of.”
    “Have they?  Been warned off me?”  He took a grim pleasure in the idea.  “All of them, as a general rule?”  Oh, how that would set his father aflame.
    He looked to her for the answer, only to find the thought arrested by a cold, little frisson of shock.
    A pretty girl, she was, the young lady who had stopped to speak to him.  A very pretty girl, indeed.
    The pause lingered.  His mind needed a moment to absorb it all, to fight off the notion that he’d imagined her, that it must be a mistake—the idea that nature had fashioned such a creature.
    Ice blue eyes smiled back at him from a lovely face—eyes of that pale color that seemed destined to be always accompanied by or edged in silver.  Yet they looked just fine in a rim of thick, dark lashes too.  Very fine.  More warm and alive than Vickers would have predicted.
    And yes, they smiled at him, those startling eyes, though the rest of her countenance displayed only that which was correct, calm and polite.
    “Well, I’ve been warned off you, at any rate.”  She grinned then, and bit her lip—her full lower lip that didn’t quite seem to match the sweet bow shaped upper one—and yet together they made an irresistible sight—a perfectly kissable mouth, just begging to be put to use.
    Wait.  Beeton had said something about a girl with an angel’s countenance and a devil’s mouth—one connected to Lady Mitford.  Was this her?  He looked her over again.  She didn’t look angelic to him, with those wide set, slightly slanted eyes and those dramatic, gently pointed brows.
    He racked his brain, but couldn’t come up with the name.  He raised a brow instead.  “And you are?”
    Her color rose, just enough to tint her fair skin with a rose flush.  “Oh, I am sorry.  I’m being terribly forward, aren’t I?  I hope you’ll forgive me—only, this might be my last chance, you see.”   She dipped her head and bobbed a quick curtsy.  “I am Miss Adelaide Stockton.  Lady Mitford is my cousin.  She is very kindly sponsoring me this Season.”
    Ah, so here was the reason for the countess’s sudden proper streak—and a distasteful burden it must be for her, too.  No.  Rosamond would not enjoy being held up for constant comparison to this girl. 
    He flicked a glance at her scrap of a bonnet, which did nothing to hide her thick, blonde hair or the length of her elegant neck.  The girl stood taller than most, perhaps half a head below his own height.  Slim, but with curves in all the most interesting spots.  And her manner . . .
    Vickers shifted, feeling himself on uncertain ground for the first time in ages—and somewhat annoyed about it.  He had a reputation—hard won and well deserved.  Damned useful, too.  The beau monde saw him as a gambler, a spendthrift, and a rake of the highest