Christie Kelley Read Online Free

anyway.
    Once she had contained her inquisitiveness, they would end their time together and resume their platonic friendship. She had worked out every detail of their relationship from how she would ask him to how they would end as friends. Everything would work out perfectly.
    Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Emory Billingsworth kissing her. Unfortunately, the only image that came to mind looked nothing like Emory and far too much like Lord Selby.
    She clenched her fists in her lap. Selby was a cur. She hated him. She most certainly did not want to kiss him…again.
    “All done, ma’am,” her maid said with a satisfied smile.
    Avis stood up and walked to the mirror. While not an “Incomparable,” tonight the woman reflected back at her appeared different, almost alluring. Highly unusual for her normally rather bookish self.
    The lower than normal neckline on her new emerald gown might have something to do with her bold feelings. The dress gave her a sensual look, not something for which she normally strived. Her brown hair was piled into curls upon her head with long, spiral tendrils framing her face. There was a hint of confidence in her smile; hopefully, that same self-assurance would reach her mind, too.
    With a nod of determined satisfaction, she departed for the ball. She would make the arrangements with Emory tonight. Everything was organized. She could sneak him into the house after dismissing her servants for the night. Then all she had to do was make sure he left via the back entrance before the servants awoke for their morning preparations.
    The carriage rolled to a stop in front of her former home. As the maroon and gold liveried footman opened the door, a familiar ache touched her soul. She did not miss the house, only her mother. She had been dead for ten years, yet the pain remained. Her heart wept for all the wrongs that had played out in that house, misdeeds a child couldn’t fix and a wife should never have to endure.
    With a deep breath for courage, she walked up the steps. Bateman opened the door and smiled broadly at her.
    “Miss Avis, welcome home,” he said as if this was still her home.
    “Good evening, Bateman. Is everything ready?”
    “Yes, miss.”
    Avis walked up to the first floor and gave an approving nod. The ballroom was exactly as she and Celia had ordered. Long pink and white roses stood in crystal vases at every corner and near every entrance to the room, just as she’d requested. Glancing up at the ceiling, she was taken aback to notice the yellow silk draped across it like the blazing sun on a summer afternoon.
    That girl knew nothing about decorating a room for a ball.
    “Avis!”
    She turned to see the new Lady Watton all but running to her. She remembered what her mother said about controlling her temper—breathe, count to ten. One, two, three, four, five—
    “Why is the ceiling draped in yellow?” At least she’d made it to five.
    “The room is perfect, isn’t it?” Celia twirled around as her jonquil dress flared out and her golden tresses spun with her. She looked like a golden canary in her elaborate birdcage.
    “I thought we had agreed on the pale pink silk for the ceiling?”
    Celia twisted her bow shaped mouth into a frown. “But pink wouldn’t go with my new gown.”
    “That is true,” Avis said, resigned.
    The sound of voices from the hall announced their first guests, saving her from a whimsical conversation about the importance of fashion matching the ball decorations.
    “I must go and greet my guests,” Celia said with a slight giggle. She and Lord Watton took their positions at the entrance to the ballroom.
    Avis watched the people arrive and greeted many of her acquaintances, but she searched for only one person. Finally she glanced back to the entrance relieved to see Emory assessing the room. His perfectly combed back, graying blonde hair drew attention to his broad forehead and brown eyes. He wore black form-fitting breeches and a