A Waltz in the Park by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online

.”
    “And so does Rosamond.  Be there.  Be polite, attentive for a short, socially acceptable interval.  No more.  Don’t try to engage her again.”
    Every feeling revolted.  “I prefer the direct approach.”
    He could feel her smile in the dark.  He was surprised her grin of triumph didn’t light up the terrace.  “If you knew Rosamond at all, you’d know that she does not.”  Reaching down, she touched his shoulder.  He felt the warmth of that little grip from the top of his head down to his toes.  “Trust me.  I’ll get you what you want.”
    For the first time since his eighteenth birthday, those words summoned an image of something besides his father’s humbling defeat—reason enough to turn and walk away.
    Instead he heaved a sigh.  “Fine.  We’ll do it your way, the first time.”
    She was still smiling.  He heard it in her voice.  “And then?”
    He stepped away so that her hand fell away from him.  “And then we shall see.”
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Miss Merry Vale’s Ode to the River Thames stretched as long and twisted as the great river itself.  Addy was as thrilled as the rest of Lady Lisle’s guests to reach the end of it.  But as the audience stood and began to file back toward the reception rooms, she merely switched seats.  Leaving Rosamond in the company of Sir Harold Stobbins, she crossed the room and plopped herself down just behind Mr. Vickers.
    Good heavens, those shoulders.  They were even more impressive up close.  Such a broad expanse of fabric reached all the way across his chair and intruded into the space allotted to his neighbors.  If she had sat next to him instead of behind, would she even now feel the press of them against her?
    The idea set her heart to thumping, but she refused to let it show.  All about them people surreptitiously stretched and murmured low as they shook out benumbed limbs, but Vickers—and those shoulders—remained still and quiet.
    Had he fallen asleep?  He would likely not have been alone.  Holding her breath, she leaned in close, listening for the sound of deep, even breaths.
    “You owe me, Miss Stockton,” he said suddenly, quite loud and clear.
    She gasped and jumped and nearly fell from her chair.
    “The balance of our agreement was mightily skewed when I was forced to listen to Miss Vale rhyme life giving waters with druidic squatters .”
    She laughed.  “That was dreadful, wasn’t it?  But not as bad, I think, as Saxon settlements and Roman betterments .”  She frowned a little.  “Did you hear the sound that went through the room at that moment?  What would you call it?”  She thought a moment.  “A faint, pained moan?  That adequately describes it, yes?”
    He half-turned in his seat and her breath caught.
    He was laughing.
    And she was falling, into dark eyes brightened with amusement and a handsome face transformed by wry humor.  What a difference it made in him.  He’d been compelling before.  He made her blood heat now.  She urgently wanted to laugh with him.  To shout in triumph or stand on her head or tell a thousand funny tales—anything to keep those eyes filled with light and matching the smile on his lips.
    She didn’t make any of those tragic mistakes, of course. Instead, blinking, she gathering her composure.  “Lady Mitford is primed and ready to speak to you.”
    The smile faded and she took a stranglehold on her disappointment.  He glanced over toward her cousin.  “Are you sure?  I thought she seemed unusually subdued today.”
    “She is, a bit.  We had an unusually subdued conversation in the carriage on the way over.  I promise, it has left her receptive to you.”
    Brow furrowed doubtfully, he watched Rosamond with Sir Harold.  “I’ll put my trust in you, then.”
    The words warmed her more than was likely wise.  “Here’s what you shall do.  Go and fetch two drinks.  Sir Harold will likely soon make the offer to do the same.  You can move in once