Further Than Passion Read Online Free

Fuming, she stomped off, but as they reached the foyer, she reasserted her aplomb. When they were out in public, she pretended they were on amicable terms.
    She latched on to his arm and escorted him into the ballroom. As expected, his appearance stirred a ripple, ensuring that speculation about Melanie Lewis would run rampant.
    Pamela steered him to the back wall, where the Lewises were listening to the music and obviously impatient for his arrival. They were a dismal crew, attired in out-of-fashion clothes, an indicator of a lack of sophistication and preparedness for their London endeavor. A waltz was in progress, and they gawked as though they'd never viewed dancing before. They were so out of place that he almost felt sorry for them.
    "Couldn't you have found a modiste for the girl," he whispered to Pamela, "before you set her loose among the vipers of High Society?"
    "There wasn't time," Pamela hissed, her polite smile not slipping. "Besides, I'm not her mother. I'm not responsible for dressing her."
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    Obese, dour Regina was positioned in the middle. She exuded gloom, arrogance, and he shuddered from imagining her as his mother-in-law.
    Melanie was awfully young, pretty and plump, with blond ringlets, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. Except for her permanent scowl, she looked like a porcelain doll.
    Christopher was handsome and charming, and even though his suit was dated, he carried himself well and wasn't glaringly abnormal, as were his female relatives. He was tall, lanky, blond and blue-eyed like Melanie, but he had a twinkle and a friendly air about him that had to have been inherited from his father's side of the family.
    Standing adjacent and slightly behind was Marcus's red-haired fantasy. Her fabulous auburn hair, the likes of which he'd never witnessed prior, was tucked under a silly cap, as if she was afraid to have anyone discover how striking it was.
    She wore a drab gray gown that was buttoned to neck and wrist, revealing no hint of the creamy skin concealed beneath. Although she was outfitted to blend in with the wallpaper, she was so rare, so unique, and she shone like the brightest star. On seeing her again, his heart literally skipped a beat.
    Would she recollect what had happened? He was dying to know.
    They drew nigh, and Pamela was at her most fawning, her most ingratiating. "There you are!" she gushed to Regina. "We've been hunting everywhere. May I present my late husband's son, Marcus Pelha m , Lord Stamford."
    As Pamela babbled, his dream visitor glanced up, and when she espied him, she blanched with such
     
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    shock and horror that he was surprised she didn't faint . He hoped she never gambled, for her expressions were far too revealing.
    She was terrified, frantic to melt into the p l aster and vanish, and in a vain attempt to separat e hersel f , she sidled away from the Lewises. Regina had risen for the introductions, but Marcus snubbed her by walking past and advancing directly to the redhead.
    He bowed. "Lady Melanie, you're much more beautiful than I had been led to believe. Thank you for coming. I'm so glad you're here."
    It was outrageous conduct, but he couldn't help himself. He detested everything about the encounter, particularly Pamela's desire to have it transpire in such a public forum.
    The redhead winced, wishing the floor would open and swallow her whole. Regina sputtered with affront , Christopher stifled a chuckle and winked at the redhead, and Melanie shrieked and fanned herself. The guests loitering nearby tittered with what they assumed was Marcus's delicious faux pas.
    His gaze holding hers, he raised her hand to his lips, and had commenced to kiss it, when Pamela yanked him away. She was shooting visible daggers.
    "Marcus," she scolded playfully, as if it were a joke they'd all enjoyed, "you're such a tease. This is Lady Melanie's chaperone. Miss ... Miss ... I apologize, but I can't recall your name. What is it?"
    "Duncan," the redhead answered quietly. "Kat e