Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online

looked at her and was relieved when he did not seem to find her worthy of continuing interest. He was considerably older than his wife and spent most of the evening with the Sporting Pink, ignoring the company.
    A very tall, muscular man in his thirties was introduced as Sir Marius Fletcher, a particular friend. Be that as it may, his greeting to her was less than warm, Jane felt, but perhaps such a chiselled face could not help being stony. Unlike Lord Wraybourne, Sir Marius’s evening clothes were almost casual. He was most certainly not a dandy. When she became more familiar with Society, she would realize he belonged to the sporting Corinthian set.
    After two such daunting introductions Jane was relieved to be presented to a young woman of her own age. Lady Sophia Kyle, Lord Wraybourne’s sister, seemed reserved at first, then she suddenly smiled and embraced Jane warmly.
    “I am pleased to meet you after all. I am going to like you very much, I think, and we will be the best of friends as we are to make our curtsy together. And soon, of course, we will be the best of sisters!”
    While relieved at the offer of friendship, Jane couldn’t help but think that Lord Wraybourne’s sister was not quite as her mother had expected. Her blue silk dress with its foot of embroidered fringing round the hem and star tlingly low—at least in Jane’s experience—neckline could only be called dashing. Jane was hard put not to stare at Lady Sophie’s hair, which was cropped short and bounced in auburn curls very like her brother’s. Blue ribbons were threaded through it, their ends hanging down one side to her shoulder.
    “I admire your hair style very much, Lady Sophia,” Jane said warmly and was rewarded by a squeak of delight.
    “How wonderful of you. It is quite the thing! I have just had it cropped. My stuffy brother does not like it, but he cannot stick the hair back on.” Her stuffy brother merely grinned and tweaked one of her short curls as Jane tried to come to terms with this offhand approach to authority.
    “It’s nothing to do with me, pest,” Lord Wraybourne remarked, apparently unalarmed. “Doubtless you’ll soon capture some poor unsuspecting male to run your rigs with.”
    He directed Jane’s attention to his sister’s partner. “This, Jane, is Lord Randal Ashby. He cannot resist the urge to flirt with a beautiful woman, so be on your guard. As you see, he has been unfairly equipped by nature.”
    Jane was cast into great confusion by both the casual compliment and the sight of the most handsome man imaginable. Only a poet could describe Lord Randal. Sadly, the few poets who had attempted the feat had given up under threats of violence from the young man, who found his spectacular good looks a trial. To say that he was tall, slim, and blond was insufficient. Every feature was perfect, and each enhanced the next. Even without striking a pose, his stance was elegant. Jane was to discover that it was, in fact, impossible for his body to arrange itself in unpleasing lines.
    In response to his greeting, uttered, of course, in a mellow and musical voice, she could only murmur polite nothings for fear she would blurt out that he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and she wished she could look at him forever.
    Lord Wraybourne dragged her away, commenting good humoredly, “I see I will have to keep you out of Lord Randal’s orbit. Meanwhile, I would like you to meet the final member of our party, Mrs. Phoebe Danvers.”
    This lady possessed a chilly kind of beauty, being tall and slender with pale skin and even paler blond hair.
    “The Sandiford heiress!” she said with a slight smile. “How pleased I am to meet you. We have all been so anxious to know what qualities could capture our elusive David.”
    Jane stiffened. Mrs. Danvers was surely implying what all the world knew, that Jane had been chosen for her ancestry and money. Her rare temper began to stir as she decided she did not like