Taming the Barbarian Read Online Free Page A

me, Mr. Finnegan.”
    “Oh.” The Irish merchant scowled at the intrusion, his mouth still open from his ongoing soliloquy. “Very well. But you must promise me a dance before you leave.”
    “Most certainly,” she said, and, taking Stanford’s arm, eased into the milling crowd of revelers. Well out of earshot, she clasped her companion’s hand as he led her into a waltz. Stanford settled his fingers comfortably against her waist and held her gaze with his own. He was a fine dancer, well tutored, considerate, and graceful. “I am, once again, entirely in your debt. Whatever would I do without you?”
    “I am certain you would do very well on your own,” he said, and swept her about an elderly couple near the towering double doors that led to the formal gardens beyond. “In fact, that is something I had hoped to speak to you about.”
    “Oh?” She tried not to stiffen with apprehension and prayed quite fervently that he had no hopes of furthering their relationship. She adored Stanford like a brother, and he had been a tremendous support to her in the months following Thomas’s death, but she had no desire to marry again. As it turned out, independence suited her far better than she had dared hope.
    He studied her face for a moment, and she felt her breath hitch.
    “I wish you would not drive so much alone, Fleurette,” he said. “Especially to Hampstead.”
    She laughed with relief and he scowled.
    ” ‘Tis no laughing matter,” he assured her. “It can be quite dangerous, even during the day. I know your business endeavors are important to you, and I applaud your success. Truly I do, but you must implement caution.”
    She gave his hand a grateful squeeze, ” ‘Tis sweet of you to be concerned for my welfare,” she said, and leaned back slightly so as to study his face more closely “But you needn’t be. Truly. If I feel there is the slightest risk, I make certain to have Mr. Benson accompany me.”
    “Mr. Benson,” he said, spinning them around a drunken gentleman who seemed to be dancing alone, “while a formidable overseer, is the approximate age of the equinox.”
    She laughed despite the fact that her slippers were pinching and her head was beginning to pound. “I would disagree, but I’ve no idea what the equinox is.”
    He gave her a charming smile. “Neither do I, but I’m quite certain Mr. Benson was present at its birth.”
    The music led them easily across the marble floor. She sobered somewhat. “You always make me feel better, Stanford. I want to thank you for that.”
    “You should not spend so much time alone, Fleurette. Indeed, despite Deacon’s deplorable…” He paused as if searching for a kindly euphemism, then said, “self. I must agree with his sentiment. You should consider marriage again.”
    She stared at him. Thomas and Stanford had been as close as brothers. So close, in fact, that it was difficult for her to believe he was prepared to see her put his death behind her. “I’m not yet ready,” she said. “Surely you can understand that.”
    “Fleurette—”
    She interrupted him quickly. “Thomas was…” She paused, fighting to give him a misty smile. “It would be impossible to replace him.” The young baron of Glendowne was well-bred, elegant, and intelligent. He had been a fine catch for a young lady with no one to see to her future. She’d been no more than fifteen when her parents had died in a carriage accident. Alone and utterly lonely, she had been thrilled when Thomas began his courtship. The days had been filled with picnics and laughter. The evenings had been afloat with dancing and earnest conversation.
    He was charming and witty and irresistible.
    Unfortunately, he had also been a devout gambler. But his hobbies were no hardship, for she’d inherited a modest fortune, one she was more than happy to turn over to the charming baron who asked her to be his bride. They’d had money and to spare. Or so she had thought.
    The devastating truth