A Gentleman's Honor by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online

learned that Mrs. Carrington hired her carriage from the nearby stables, and also that, as was her habit, she’d sent her evening’s instructions to the coachman at midday. Armed with the information, he’d arrived early, much to Lady Mott’s delight; he’d been in the ballroom waiting when Alicia Carrington had walked in.
    He’d watched her for an hour before he’d approached; in that time, he’d seen her dismiss without a blink three perfectly eligible gentlemen who, as he did, found her quieter beauty, with its suggestion of maturity and a more subtle allure, more attractive than her sister’s undeniable charms.
    As with all else she’d revealed in response to his probing, her dismissal of marriage rang true. She was truly disinterested, at least at present. She was focused on her task… the temptation to distract her, to see if he could…
    He refocused on her; she was still interrogating Geoffrey who, to Tony’s educated eye, was finding the going increasingly grim.
    He’d done his duty. He’d convinced himself that his first impression of Mrs. Carrington had been accurate; she hadn’t slid a stiletto between Ruskin’s ribs, and he could see no reason to doubt her assertion that she had known Ruskin only socially. There was nothing there to interest Dalziel.
    Mission accomplished, there was no reason he couldn’t retire and leave Geoffrey to his fate. No reason at all to remain by Alicia Carrington’s side.
    The distant scrape of bow on string heralded the return of the musicians and an impending waltz. Geoffrey straightened, stiffened, then threw him an unmistakable look of entreaty. Man-to-man. Ex-boyhood-rival-to-rival.
    Tony reached for Alicia’s hand. “If you would do me the honor, Mrs. Carrington?” He bowed.
    Alicia blinked, startled by the sudden clasp of Torrington’s hard fingers on hers. As he straightened, she glanced at Lord Manningham only to discover his lordship had grasped her single moment of distraction to turn to Adriana, who, from her smile, had been waiting, having already granted him this dance.
    She opened her lips—on what words she didn’t know—only to find herself whisked about. “Wait!”
    “The dance floor’s this way.”
    “I know, but I wasn’t going to accept your offer.”
    He threw her a black glance, not irritated but curious.
    “Why?”
    “Because I don’t want to waltz.”
    “Why not? You’re passably good at it.”
    “It’s got nothing to do with… I’m a chaperone. Chaperones don’t waltz. We’re supposed to keep an eye on our charges even while they’re waltzing.”
    He glanced over her head. “Your sister’s with Manningham. Unless he’s changed beyond belief in the last ten years, he’s no cad—she’s as safe as she can be, and you don’t need to watch.”
    They’d reached the floor; the musicians had launched into their theme. He swung her into his arms, then they were whirling down the room.
    As before, she found breathing difficult, but was determined not to let it show. “Are you always this dictatorial?”
    He met her gaze, then smiled, an easy, warming, simple gesture. “I don’t know. I’ve never been questioned on the subject before.”
    She threw him a look she hoped conveyed total disbelief.
    “But educate me—I’ve been away from the ton for more than ten years—should your sister be waltzing at all? Wasn’t there some rule or other about permission from the hostesses?”
    “She had to get permission from one of the patronesses of Almack’s. I spoke to Lady Cowper, and she was kind enough to give her approval.” Alicia frowned. “But why have you been away from the ton for ten years—and more? Where were you?”
    He looked at her for a moment, as if the answer should be obvious, tattooed on his forehead or some such, then his smile deepened. “I was in the army—the Guards.”
    “Waterloo?”
    The concern in her face was quite genuine. It warmed him. “And the Peninsula.”
    “Oh.”
    Tony watched