A Stolen Season by Tamara Gill Read Free Book Online

love to ride, although we have no horses stabled in town.”
    “Would you ride with me tomorrow morning, Miss Baxter? I have a mare who’s placid enough for town.” Eric held his breath for her answer. Why, he couldn’t fathom. And at present he didn’t want to delve into such musings. All that mattered was he was dancing with a beautiful and intelligent woman. One he was attracted to not only physically but intellectually. Eric would have to thank Anita for resurrecting his association with Miss Baxter.
    “I would like that, my lord. Thank you.”
    Miss Baxter smiled once more, and again Eric felt his breath seize in his lungs.
    He swept her to a stop as the last strains of the waltz sounded. Regrettably, he bowed. “You waltz beautifully, Miss Baxter.”
    Her chuckle brought another smile to his lips. “I do believe you’re in denial, my lord. I could think of a different word than beautiful to express my dancing.”
    “I cannot.” Nor could he. Miss Sarah Baxter was a breeze of fresh air in an idle society. She was an intriguing woman, and he wished to know her better.
    Eric turned as Lady Patricia came to stand beside them. Anita trailed behind, a mulish look on her visage. He greeted his late brother’s betrothed with a bow, then made the necessary introductions.
    “Would you care to dance, cousin?” Eric asked Anita. As much as his brother had loved Patricia, he did not. It was better for all involved that he make himself scarce whenever she came into his sphere, lest he injure her further by denying his family’s and hers of their wish for them to marry. He ignored Patricia’s disappointment, and held out his arm to Anita.
    “I don’t like country dances, Eric,” Anita said, taking his arm anyway.
    “Until tomorrow, Miss Baxter,” he said turning before he was out of her hearing.
    “Tomorrow,” she said.
    Eric smiled. It was already too many hours between now and morning.
    “What has you looking so jovial, cousin?” Anita asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
    “A good friend of mine once said, ‘A gentleman never tells.’” Eric placed Anita in line and stepped back with the other men to commence the dance.
    “How curious. And yet I do believe I know.”
    Eric laughed. “I believe you do.”
    • • •
    Sarah allowed the music to flow over her as she watched Lord Earnston dance and laugh with Anita. She had thought him handsome when serious, but now, smiling, talking, and laughing made him more devastatingly so.
    She sighed in relief at having not tripped over her own feet during her waltz with the earl. Lord Earnston was a skilled dancer and had overcome her dancing inadequacies. The memory of him clasping her against his broad chest, his muscular shoulders that would look magnificent if ever bared for view, left her looking forward to the next time they danced. Never would she forget her waltz with a lord in nineteenth century London. She would cherish the memory forever.
    “I know what you’re up to, Miss Baxter, and it will not work.”
    Sarah started and turned to face Lady Patricia. “I don’t understand.”
    “Using your wiles on Lord Earnston are wasted, my dear. He is not for you.”
    Sarah beat back the urge to put the high and mighty Lady Patricia in her place. “Lady Anita introduced me to his lordship. That he danced with me I’m sure was his way of being polite. I have no interest in Lord Earnston.”
    “It would be a waste of your time. Our families are, at this moment, finalizing our wedding contract.”
    “Lord Earnston has proposed?” Sarah asked, looking about the room. She paused when she spied an older woman looking their way, her dark eyes hard and full of malice.
    “Not yet. But he will. Lord Earnston always does what is correct. So you see, Miss Baxter, it is best not to form a tendre for his lordship.”
    Sarah bit her tongue and nodded. “I assure you I will not.”
    “Very good, and let me conclude by saying that I do not believe it is appropriate