A Winter Wedding Read Online Free

this over with.”
    “I will ensure that they are ‘perfectly good enough’ for you.” She gave him a vicious smile, but he was looking ahead and did not see. Before the night was out, he would pay dearly for that comment. Oh yes, that son of a duke would pay.

Three
    Marchford led them into the festively decorated ballroom awash with the colored silks of the ladies’ gowns and the well-tailored coats of the men. Hundreds of candles twinkled in the drawing room, boldly embellished with sprigs of holly and bright red bows. It was perhaps a little provincial for London society, which viewed Christmas as a quaint tradition of the common populace. But Penelope, herself raised in the country, loved it. Having spent three refined Christmastides in London after her parents died, she had missed the annual festivities.
    Though it was proper for a lady to be escorted into the ballroom, Penelope noted that Marchford failed to release her hand once they were inside and instead covered her gloved hand with his protectively. She knew it was an oversight—he was not attending to her in the least—but the continued contact warmed her straight down to her slippered toes. Her unwanted, inappropriate, and utterly inconvenient response to him was clearly his fault.
    The Duke of Marchford pressed forward into the room, taking her along with him. All heads turned when he passed, but his aloof manner kept all but his intimates and the outrageously bold from approaching. It was December in London, so society would have typically been limited, but Parliament had been required to open session early. The crowded ballroom revealed the season was also getting an early start.
    “Where are we going?” Pen whispered.
    “Card room. Or better yet billiards. Only safe place.”
    “Coward,” she hissed.
    “They are looking at me like a prized goose, shot and plucked, and hanging by its neck in the shop window.”
    She smiled at the analogy. Served him right for being so handsome, and amusing, and blasted good company. The ladies in the ballroom had noted his movement from one side of the room to the other, and began to drift toward him in ever shrinking orbits until they fell willingly into the gravitational pull of the unmarried duke.
    “It is your own fault for remaining a bachelor,” chastised Penelope in a low voice. And for being undeniably attractive , she mentally added.
    “No, that is entirely your fault,” he returned in a seductive undertone.
    His reference to his mock proposal sent tingles down her spine, and she wrenched her hand away from his arm to prevent herself from falling into his arms and declaring that she would marry him within the hour. Curse him!
    Taking advantage of an unprotected duke, a lady wearing a gown so sheer Penelope did a double take before averting her eyes slid up to Marchford and giggled something in his ear. He acknowledged her with a tight smile but turned to Pen with haunted eyes. Help! he mouthed to her. Women circled like buzzards around carrion.
    It was dangerous to stand between a marriage-minded miss and her ultimate prize. Pen was met with glares from determined maidens who saw her as interfering in their plans to corral the duke into conversation, marriage, and bed, in any order. One lady elbowed her. Another trod on her foot, trying to vie for Marchford’s attention.
    Penelope considered abandoning him to his fate, but she could not stomach the thought of leaving these women in command of the ultimate prize. Besides, what if his horror were to turn to interest? She was filled with an emotion unfamiliar to her, but it was definitely not jealousy. No, not that at all.
    “Your Grace, please recall you promised to lead in Lady Devine’s niece.” Penelope’s pronouncement was met with glares from the ladies and a look of relief from Marchford.
    “Yes, of course. You all will excuse me.” Marchford gave a slight nod of the head and detangled himself from their clutches.
    “Here is my first