Beauty in Breeches by Helen Dickson Read Free Book Online Page A

intended to find a quiet shady place on the terrace to sit a while before going to her room. Thewarmth of the evening caressed her bare shoulders and a light breeze stirred the skirts of her gown.
    â€˜Well, well, Miss Fanshaw! So we meet again.’ Julius was ahead of her and, seeing her walking alone along the privacy of the arched walkway, he had paused to watch her, completely captivated by the look on her face. This was not the face of the young woman who had boldly challenged him to race his horse against hers earlier. Then her haughty manner had marked her as strong of character whereas now, with her eyes closed and a gentle smile on her lips, there was a softness about her, an elusive gentleness that declared her to be as fragile and vulnerable as the roses that clambered about them.
    Clearly she was a woman of ever-changing moods and subtle contradictions, and while her physical beauty first arrested the attention, it was this spectrum, this bewildering, indefinable quality that held him captive. A strange sweet melting feeling softened his innermost core without warning, the place in him that he usually kept as hard as steel.
    His appearance pulled Beatrice from the strange spell that had seemed to enclose her. She started, alarmed by the unexpected greeting, and opened her eyes. He appeared too suddenly for her to prepare herself, so the heady surge of pleasure she experienced on seeing him again was clearly evident, stamped like an unbidden confession on her lovely face.
    Stepping in front of her, he towered above her. His smile was full of gentle mockery when he said, ‘Are you about to retire, Miss Fanshaw?’
    Beneath his impassive gaze Beatrice stood perfectly still, refusing to blush or look away, her delicately beautiful face framed by a halo of golden hair—a dainty image of fragility standing before a man who dwarfed her.
    â€˜I thought I might.’
    â€˜A sensible move, I would say. I fear if you party too long into the night you will not do full justice to the race tomorrow.’
    â€˜Your concern—if that is what it is—for my state of health is quite touching, Lord Chadwick. But worry not. If I were to party till dawn, I would still beat you hands down.’
    â€˜Your courage and confidence are to be admired, but you are going to be disappointed. I’m afraid the outcome is inevitable.’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ she remarked.
    â€˜And here was I thinking you might wish to retract your challenge.’ He stared at her with impudent admiration, letting his gaze travel from her eyes to her mouth, then down to the swell of her breasts. Beatrice wished she had a shawl to cover herself, as she felt her cheeks grow hot beneath his scrutiny.
    â€˜My challenge stands. Now be so kind as to step aside.’
    He did as she bade, but she was not to be rid of him. As she continued to walk on he fell into step beside her.
    â€˜Will you return to the party?’ he asked.
    They had reached the terrace and she stopped and turned to him. ‘I might, but then I might not.’ Taking adeep breath, she looked up into the night sky and saw the moon, a new moon, a thin sickle of a moon. Seeing it for the first time, she closed her eyes.
    Beside her Julius followed her gaze, his eyes on the slender sickle. ‘Have you made a wish?’ he asked.
    Opening her eyes, she nodded.
    â€˜Then I hope the new moon brings you luck.’
    â€˜So do I, but I believe you make your own luck in this world.’
    â€˜That is a very cynical view, Miss Fanshaw.’
    â€˜I have a cynical outlook on life, Lord Chadwick.’ She gazed up at the stars beginning to twinkle. ‘I love looking at the sky at night,’ she murmured. ‘There are so many stars up there. To some people all the constellations just look like a jumble of stars, but they’re not. See that bright one over there?’
    Julius continued to look up, as if he, too, found something of