Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. by Gayle Buck Read Free Book Online

off to the side of the dance floor. A slim gentleman of average height leaned over the back of the matron’s chair. There was another woman with them, but her chair was half-hidden by the others and she could not be clearly observed. However, from what he was able to discern of her form, she appeared to be a young woman. Sir Frederick instantly concluded that this lady would be the object of his friend’s matchmaking efforts.
    His suspicions were truly aroused. Despite his drollery, he had a healthy and wary respect for Mrs. Richardson’s abilities. She had been too successful in matching up couples in the past. He might have been reflecting on marriage earlier not many minutes before, but he balked at the thought of being pitchforked to the altar. “I warn you, Caroline, I’ll run off to Paris first,” he muttered.
    Mrs. Richardson pinched his arm through his coat sleeve. “Behave, Freddy!” She drew him around to the attention of the small group. With her attractive smile, she made the introduction. “Mrs. Holland, may I present Sir Frederick Hawkesworth? He is a dear friend of my husband and myself. Sir Frederick is one of our most distinguished diplomats.”
    “I am delighted, Mrs. Holland,” said Sir Frederick, none of his inner perturbation in evidence. He made one of his graceful bows, his glance at once cataloging Mrs. Holland. The widow was a striking woman, dark of hair and eyes with pale skin and still possessed a relatively good figure. However, there was petulance in her eyes, and tiny lines of temper at the corners of her thin-lipped but well-shaped mouth, which spoke volumes to one of his wide-flung experience. Mrs. Holland had obviously once been a society beauty, but was now a fading rose. Her age was indeterminate, but since she possessed two grown children, Sir Frederick felt safe in placing her at forty at least. Sir Frederick had a shrewd notion that Mrs. Holland would never willingly divulge her actual age to any living soul.
    Mrs. Holland inclined her head, simpering slightly. “Sir Frederick.” She waved her fan slowly, the movement drawing attention to her deeply rounded décolletage. The lady wore a silken gown in the new style, cut low over her shapely bosom and gathered close underneath, so that the resulting display of her charms was one that would irresistibly draw any gentleman’s gaze.
    Sir Frederick looked hastily away. Dangerous, this one, he cautioned himself. Beside him, he thought he heard a soft choking sound. He realized with an instant flash of amusement that Mrs. Richardson had been neither blind nor approving of the byplay. He had seen much of the world, and there was not much that could any longer disgust him, but he rather thought Mrs. Richardson’s tolerance for vulgarity was somewhat lower than his own.
    Mrs. Holland smiled, her teeth very white and even. She snapped shut her fan and indicated the young man standing beside her gilt-edged chair. “My son, the Earl of Holybrooke, Sir Frederick.” There was a wealth of pride in her voice and in the glance she cast up at her offspring.
    Sir Frederick looked swiftly at the handsome young gallant. “The Earl of Holybrooke?” He recovered swiftly from his surprise and made a short bow. “It is an honor, my lord.”
    The dark young gentleman, who had straightened at the outset of the introductions, flushed slightly. His gray-blue eyes met Sir Frederick’s with a steady gaze. He held out his hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
    Sir Frederick accepted the younger man’s handshake, liking him for his humility. Like everyone else, he had heard how the old earl had died after dispossessing his firstborn and leaving the title and estate to the son of a younger son. It was an unusual story, and the gossipmongers had delighted in it. His recollection was that it was a year past since this serious-faced boy had inherited.
    Sir Frederick’s glance passed swiftly over the widow and her two children. Of