His Christmas Pleasure Read Online Free Page B

was tempted to ask her aunt what secrets she held. Certainly the duchess knew Freddie and Corinne were going to announce their betrothal, but she’d not said a word of warning. “We are going to join this next set,”
    Abby said instead, nodding to the dance floor.
    “Oh, please do. And come join us when you are done. Corinne and I have taken up station by the Greek urn.” She nodded in the direction of a bronze urn the height of most men. A table and several chairs were set up there.
    Abby’s mother sat there, along with many of the duke of Banfield’s other brothers and sisters, but Corinne wasn’t with them.
    Instead, she and Freddie were having a confab not far from the urn. Corinne, tall, beautiful, blonde, said something angry to Freddie and stormed away, shoving aside several guests who were in her path.
    Abby wondered what he’d told her.

    “We shall, Your Grace,” she heard the barón answer her aunt, speaking for both of them. He nudged Abby toward the dance floor.
    The other dancers had already taken their places. Politeness dictated that she and the barón should stand this one out. The barón, however, was not polite.
    He took a spot on the dance floor, bringing her around to face him.
    She feared they were going to dance by themselves until another couple stepped from the crowd to join them.
    Abby didn’t recognize the couple. There were so many here this evening she didn’t know. She rarely traveled with this set—only when her uncle and aunt gave parties.
    The music started. It was a country dance, thankfully one Abby knew. But at that moment, as she moved to take the first step, Freddie came to stand at the edge of the crowd no more than an arm’s length from her.
    His expression was serious, distraught.
    He looked right at her—and Abby stumbled over her own feet.
    She felt herself falling, but before she made a complete fool of herself, the barón’s strong hands took hers and spun her in a circle, as if he’d been improvising a step.
    The movement was dizzying, and for the second time in less than an hour, Abby found herself again in the barón’s arms.
    “Smile,” he quietly ordered, and she found herself obeying immediately. The smile on her face felt false, but she’d not remove it, not with so many watching.
    Not with Freddie watching.
    Abby dared not look in his direction. Instead, she placed her focus on her dashing, bold partner, and an amazing thing began to happen: she started to enjoy herself.
    The barón knew how to lead. She found herself moving through the dance with an easy grace she’d not known before. He didn’t do anything awkward, just a touch here, a bit of pressure there, and the two of them were moving as if they had danced together before.
    The music was lively and long. Apparently, the young people had been waiting for such a robust dance and were making the most of it, their enthusiasm encouraging the musicians.
    How long had it been since she’d danced?
    Probably before she’d been betrothed to Mr. Lynsted. He’d not been one to take to the dance floor.
    The dancing grew more competitive. Couples danced down a line while others clapped, cheered, and stamped their feet. It seemed as if everyone in the ballroom was involved now. Everyone was as caught up as Abby. She didn’t even have the opportunity to hesitate when the barón took her hand and danced her down the center of the floor.
    She was not graceful. The music was moving too fast for her to think, and she took a misstep here and there, but she didn’t run for cover. Instead, she laughed her clumsiness away, and no one seemed to notice—save the barón.
    He used her lack of grace as an opportunity to rest his hand on her waist, to give her an extra twirl and bring his arms around her. He was masterful, gallant, incredibly thoughtful.
    All too soon, the music came to an end.
    The applause for the musicians and dancers was deafening.
    Freddie was nowhere in sight.
    However, her parents watched. Her