Rhonda Woodward Read Online Free Page A

ahead moved on as Mr. Penhurst, who looked less nondescript in his black evening clothes, greeted the Buckleighs with great solicitude due the highest ranking family in the community. He then turned to present his sister.
    With a gracious smile, Lady Darley greeted Lord and Lady Buckleigh with easy assurance and charm. The pleasantries could barely be heard above the lively rumble of conversation and music, but Marina was delighted when Lady Darley’s blue eyes swept her moss-green gown and showed silent approval.
    Marina smiled and curtsied before moving on. It wasn’t only London ladies who could be garbed in the crack of fashion.
    The four of them reached the edge of the parquet floor, where the other guests were mingling and listening to prelude music.
    Lord Buckleigh turned to his wife and daughters. “Now, my doves, I have seen you safely to this spot and I shall stay for one set. After that, you may find me in the billiard room Mr. Penhurst just mentioned.”
    “That shall be perfectly satisfactory, my dear,” Lady Buckleigh said with a smile to her husband.
    Knowing how much he hated this kind of entertainment, Marina smiled at her father for making the concession of dancing one set with Mama.
    Deirdre, twitching her skirts and tapping her foot in time to the music, bumped into Marina.
    “Gracious, Deirdre, do stop fidgeting.”
    “I cannot help it. It is all so lovely and exciting. After all, this is my first ball.”
    Marina shook her head. “You are such a goose.”
    Papa, who had heard this exchange, chuckled deeply. “It seems that this is your first ball, too, Marina. Or have you forgotten that your first Season does not commence until spring?”
    It was true, although she was nineteen, Marina had decided to postpone her Season for a year, so that she and Deirdre—deemed too young by Papa to go to Town this past spring—could enjoy all the delights of London together.
    “Yes, but that is no reason to behave in so gauche a manner.”
    “I am not gauche! That’s a horrible thing to say to me.” Deirdre’s large hazel eyes looked wounded to her core and her bottom lip quivered.
    Marina looked heavenward for a moment, for, really, her younger sister’s high-strung emotions could be quite trying at times. “Do stop being so dramatic.”
    Before Deirdre could reply, Lady Buckleigh gave her girls a stern look. “Stop this squabbling. We are here to enjoy ourselves or have you forgotten?”
    “No, Mama. I’m sorry,” Marina said contritely, annoyed with herself for allowing her sister to discompose her.
    Deirdre mumbled something similar.
    Marina gazed around the ballroom, marveling at the improvements made to the room since the last time she was here, many years ago. Mr. Penhurst had been busy with his renovations.
    But it was the guests who drew her attention, and she scanned the crowd for a certain golden head. Unfortunately, in the immediate vicinity, she only saw people she had known all of her life. And they all seemed to be waving or chatting or laughing with one another.
    “Oh my,” Deirdre said with a sense of wonderment. “I do hope our ballroom will be as beautiful.”
    Marina, standing beneath a massive chandelier whose candlelight glinted off gilt and mirror and jewels, agreed that it would indeed take some doing to rival this magic, but she knew her mama—who took great pride in being the grandest lady in the district—was up to the task.
    Mama, eyes smiling, leaned forward and whispered, “You are receiving a flattering amount of attention, Marina dear. Henry Willingham has had his eyes on you since you stepped into the room.”
    Marina’s smile turned wry at her mother’s satisfied observation and glanced Henry’s way.
    Before she could answer, Mrs. Willingham, garbed in a gown of forest green and a rather exotic looking turban in a violent shade of purple, swept toward them, flanked by her son and daughter. Lady Buckleigh, after a cry of delight, greeted their old friends