Under the Kissing Bough Read Online Free Page A

pulled his attention back to his current situation and away from useless, ruined desires.
    The two Miss Glovers, Elizabeth and the younger Eleanor, sat together near the far wall. As he watched, a man in military garb came up to them, bowed over the blushing Elizabeth's hand and took her away for a dance, leaving Eleanor to herself. Without company, Eleanor folded her hands in her lap, and Geoff watched her make herself disappear.
    It was actually quite an amazing process, involving more not-doing than doing. Head up, she became quite still, and soon seemed to become part of the furnishings. When two gossiping, old ladies took the seats next to her, Eleanor's lips quivered once or twice, but she said nothing and did not look at the gossips. He felt quite certain, however, that this was how she had acquired her knowledge of men who gave scandalous women a carte blanche .
    Folding his arms, Geoff leaned against the wall near a tapestry and set to watching his betrothed. He ought to ask her to dance, and so he would—eventually. For now, he only wanted to study her, to try and see beneath that calm exterior which she presented to the world.
    It had been a stupid thing to agree so blindly to her condition of naming what she wanted from a marriage. He had only wanted to be done with the matter, to have it over and fixed so that he could not change his mind. He had needed a bride, and now he had one. But what sort of woman was she that she could seem so meek and yet make such a nearly scandalous demand of him?
    Carte blanche indeed!
    And his lips twitched at the memory of that scene. He could not think of any other miss who would have made such a shocking request. No, usually, they were falling over themselves to charm the heir to an earldom.
    Eyes narrowing, he studied his bride to be. She sat so still, her head down, not looking at anyone. Not talking. She looked far too shy for any man's taste, and an uneasy doubt made him wonder if he had chosen badly. His future countess would have certain public duties, after all.
    The image of her with her chin up and her hand out as she asked him for a carte blanche stirred in his thoughts again, teasing him with the same question.
    What did she want?
    As he watched, her lips curved into a secret smile. She kept her stare focused on the tips of her white satin slippers, but that smile had his fingers twitching with the desire to tip up that stubborn chin so he could see what secret amusement lay hidden in those infernally downcast eyes.
    What was she smiling at? Gossip? Some secret thoughts?
    Had he gotten himself some clever female who hid unreasonable desires in her heart? Was she thinking up some sensible request to make, or would she ask for romantic nonsense?
    Pushing away from the wall, he straightened. Damn it all, he was going to have to find out just what sort of female he had gotten himself here. And if she had any quixotic notions about him, he would just have to make certain he eliminated those from her head before they were bound together as man and wife. At least that was one thing he was good at. He knew how to make a lady cry, and how to destroy her faith in him forever.
    * * *
    Eleanor sat with her eyes downcast as she listened to an utterly unsuitable story of how Lady Charlotte Wellesley had eloped with Lord Paget this past spring. The lady had left her husband and four children for the gallant cavalry officer. He, in turn, had been drawn by love to abandon a cheating wife. It all sounded terribly improper, and the gossiping ladies had nothing but criticism for the couple. But wistful delight curled into Eleanor.
    How wonderful to love and be loved so passionately that nothing else mattered.
    She let out a small sigh, and then became aware that a pair of gentlemen's evening slippers had moved into her view. Her stare traveled up from those black slippers, over strong calves encased in white, clocked stockings, over buff satin breeches that lay smooth over muscular legs,