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

look of determination in his eyes stopped her. Besides, it was highly unlikely that she would ever be presented with such an opportunity again, so she might as well make the most of it. “Very well,” she said. “Though I would greatly appreciate it if we could perhaps move at a more leisurely pace.”
    For a brief moment they just stood there, staring at each other. Then something indecipherable flickered behind Mr. Summersby’s eyes, and Mary was left with the distinct feeling that he was doing his utmost to refrain from laughing. With a quick nod, he agreed to her suggestion, then carefully pulled her back into his arms. She remained upright this time, to her great relief, and soon discovered that all she had to do was follow him wherever he happened to lead her. What could possibly be more simple than that? All right, her posture wasn’t exactly perfect, and her steps were occasionally too wide or too narrow, but by God it was a long time since she’d had this much fun.
    With practiced ease, he guided her slowly about the terrace, picking up speed so gradually that Mary never even noticed how fast they were going. She loosened up, forgot herself, and, throwing her head back with careless abandon, laughed with joy as they twirled about to the strains of music that drifted through an open window. It faded much sooner than she would have hoped, forcing their pace to slow until they were once more quite still.
    “Thank you,” Mr. Summersby told her, offering her a slight bow.
    Mary smiled broadly. “I do believe that it is I who should thank you,” she replied in a breathless voice as she gazed up at him with her big brown eyes. “You have been quite the gentleman, for which I am truly grateful.”
    Mr. Summersby paused for a moment before releasing her. He looked as though he was pondering something. “It occurs to me that you know my name, but I have no idea of yours. Would you perhaps be so kind as to tell me whose company I have had the pleasure of enjoying this evening?”
    Mary stepped back. Had she really forgotten to introduce herself? Was it possible that Mr. Summersby really didn’t know who she was? She suddenly dreaded having to tell him. She’d enjoyed spending time with him, had even considered the possibility of seeing him again, but once he knew her true identity, he’d probably treat her no differently than all the other gentlemen had done: like a grand pile of treasure with which to pay off his debts and house his mistresses. And who could blame him? He’d already admitted that he was a second son and thus unlikely to be able to rely on an inheritance to sustain the high standards of living he’d undoubtedly acquired as a member of the upper class. Nevertheless, in spite of her own misgivings, he’d been nothing but pleasant toward her, and because of that, she honestly felt that she owed him the truth.
    Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, she mustered all her courage and turned a serious gaze upon him. “My name is Mary Croyden, and I am the Marchioness of Steepleton.” Ryan’s response was instantaneous. His mouth dropped open, allowing for a clear view of the back of his throat, while his eyes widened in complete and utter disbelief. He stared at the slender woman who stood before him, doing her best to play the part of a peeress. Was it really possible that she was the very marchioness he’d been looking for when he’d stepped outside for some fresh air only a half hour earlier? The very same one that Percy had asked him to protect? She seemed much too young for such a title, too unpolished and far too simple. It wasn’t that he found her unattractive in any way, though he had thought her plain at first glance. No, she merely didn’t have that air of prestige about her that all the typical duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses oozed from their very pores.
    “What?” she asked with a large degree of annoyance as she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow.