There's Something About Lady Mary Read Online Free Page A

I am not, or at least I was not until. . .” With no desire to give him the wrong idea, she chose not to finish that sentence, finishing instead with a firm “All the same.”
    “Very well then,” he agreed, pinning her with a solemn stare. “But first things first: I believe it would be rude of me to let you leave without at least asking you to dance. Besides, it would be rather shameful not to make use of all this space.” He swept his arm in a wide arc to indicate the vast emptiness of the terrace.
    In truth, there was nothing that Mary would have liked more, if she had only known how. Nobody had ever taken the time to teach her how to dance; there simply hadn’t been a need for it. She’d seen the ladies inside the ballroom, though, twirling elegantly about as if floating on air while their partners guided them about. And now, as her eyes flittered over Mr. Summersby, taking in the solid strength of him, she simply couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to have him dance with her in such a way.
    Before she could manage a response, however, he’d taken her hand in his and led her to the middle of the terrace. “Imagine that—I hear a waltz starting,” he said with a cheeky grin as he pulled her toward him.
    Her breath caught, and her stomach became a tight knot at the feel of his hand clasped firmly about her waist. She’d thought it strange when her maid had suggested that she get permission to dance the waltz, but this was no longer the case, for her vicinity to Mr. Summersby could only be described as scandalous. He was so close to her that she could breathe in his scent. It was like that of moist morning air after a storm, so intoxicatingly masculine that her sudden desire to be near him outweighed her fear of making a complete cake of herself—which was precisely what she ended up doing the minute he tried twirling her into his arms. For whatever reason, her feet refused to cooperate. Instead, they twisted themselves about one another most awkwardly, which was enough to make her trip on the hem of her gown, propelling her straight forward with an alarming amount of speed until her face slammed right into Mr. Summersby’s chest with a thump. It hurt like blazes.
    Mary didn’t move. She couldn’t move, because if she did, she was confident that once she lifted her head, she’d find him laughing at her, and that wasn’t something that she was prepared to endure just yet. What she silently prayed for was a means by which to avoid having to look at him ever again. If she could only find a way in which to freeze time forever and thus avoid the humiliation entirely.
    The touch of his fingers against her chin brought her hurtling back from her daydream. They nudged her gently as if trying to ease her away, but she held fast, squeezing her eyes tightly shut while hot waves of embarrassment flowed toward her cheeks. “You cannot stay like this forever, you know,” he told her softly, then added, “I promise not to tell anyone.”
    A mere squeak was all that escaped her lips at that remark. Who cared if anyone else might discover that she had two left feet when the most handsome man in all of Christendom had just had a front row seat to her complete lack of elegance? But his hands were on her shoulders now, and with a little push, he managed to add a little space between them.
    Taking courage, she slowly opened her eyes, discovering that not only was he not laughing at her, he was watching her with what could only be described as a great deal of concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.
    Of course she wasn’t all right—she was completely mortified, if anything, but she’d never been a coward either, so, straightening her back and looking him squarely in the eye, she nodded and said, “Yes, thank you. I am perfectly fine.”
    “Good.” He reached for her hand once more and gave it a slight squeeze. “Now then, how about if we try that again?”
    She was about to protest, but the sharp