Under the Kissing Bough Read Online Free Page B

to a gold-shot brocade waistcoat and a dark green evening coat, and to the impassive face of Lord Staines.
    Her mouth dried and her heart thudded into her throat, leaving her unable to speak.
    He took her breath away, with those burnished locks and the heart-stopping perfection of his face. But he regarded her without fire or flash in eyes as chilly as winter ice.
    She smiled and stammered out a good evening.
    With a short bow, he held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"
    Startled, she glanced around herself. No one ever asked her to dance. And she remembered that, of course, he would have to ask her. They were to be married, after all.
    Putting her gloved hand in his, she rose. He held her hand firmly, but he kept a polite distance between them. Remembering all the lessons she'd had with the dancing master this past season, she kept her stare fixed not on her feet—as she longed to—but on the glinting emerald tucked into the folds of his perfect, white cravat. She had to look somewhere, and she did not trust herself to stare into his face and remain the sensible girl that he expected.
    The small orchestra engaged for the evening played the opening bars to the dance. Lord Staines bowed, she curtsied, and they moved into the steps. The dance had them separate, and then they came together and he took her hands to turn her.
    "Is this punishment for my being late?" he asked.
    Her gaze flew to his face, but those devastating blue eyes regarded her only with slight curiosity.
    "I beg your pardon," she said. "I...I was just minding my steps."
    The dance separated them again—thankfully—and when they came together, he leaned closer. "Are the steps more interesting than I am?"
    Her stare shot back up again to his face. This time she glimpsed a spark of devilment in his eyes. She tensed. She was done for if he started flirting with her. She was not like Emma. If he started to tease her, she might fall under the spell of his charm, and that would be a fatal mistake in what was only a marriage of convenience. No, she must honestly be sensible about this.
    The dance forced them apart and Geoff cursed himself for thinking a country dance any place for conversation. He felt like a damn jack-in-the-box, popping up at odd moments to say something to her and popping away before she answered. However, he had seen the flare of panic in her eyes when he had teased her about minding her steps. He felt as if he had kicked a kitten. He wanted at once to say something to reassure her, but the movement in the dance took him away.
    When they met again as partners, she took his hands for another turn. With a smile fixed in place, she said, "It is my company that is not very good, I fear."
    He had been thinking just that, but her admission—made in such a soft, wrenching voice—instantly had him wanting to deny any such thing.
    They reached the end of the line of dancers and had to stand out, and at last he could talk to her. And he decided that a new approach was needed. Something more direct, for they had dealt better than this when they had both spoken plainly this morning.
    "Why do you think you are not good company?" he asked.
    She glanced up at him, and he saw the gears turning behind those wide brown eyes. Well, it is not a dull mind that keeps her silent. And his shoulders relaxed a little. Like his father, he did not suffer fools well, and he had not even realized until now how unbearable it would be to be shackled to a dull woman.
    Hesitating over her words, she wet her lips and said, "Good company in London seems to consist of either making cutting comments about others, or smiling stupidly and giggling at everything a gentleman says. I don't do either."
    Her answer amused him. She had described the catty ladies and the simpering misses that he knew all too well. "Your smile is intriguing, Miss Eleanor. Quite intriguing. In fact, I wonder what it is that makes you smile? It is not, I gather, a cutting comment?"
    He had stepped closer