Miss Quinn's Quandary by Shirley Marks Read Free Book Online

focused mainly on the fairer
sex in the crowd.
    From across the room, Randall recognized Lady Dorothea Brookhurst . She had been a beauty years ago when he had
first set eyes on her. How she had blossomed!
    Randall had never seen such loveliness and grace combined in one
woman. Luckily he was not a stranger to her and he need not wait for an
introduction. There was no sign of men inundating her. He did not know why, but
decided not to question his good fortune and did not delay making his move.
    “Excuse me, Uncle Cyrus. I see someone I need to reacquaint
myself with.”
    “Of course, my boy. Do go ahead.” Rushton waved him on.
    Randall could feel his lips curve into a gracious smile. He was
well pleased indeed. Smoothing a hand over his fine waistcoat, Randall shifted
and straightened a crease in the arm of his jacket before advancing across the
room.
    As he neared Lady Dorothea, he thought her radiant hair surely
must consist of the rays of the sun. Her eyes, of celestial blue, glistened.
Her lips would cause the reddest of roses to pale. He need not go on to see
that she was a delight to behold. The grace of her arms only hinted at the
lithe movements of her body. Every turn, sway, and dip bespoke her statuesque
elegance.
    “Lady Dorothea,” he greeted and sketched a bow.
    “Why, Sir Randall, is it not?” she remarked, surprised. “It has
been an age, has it not?”
    “It has been quite some time since we last met.” His eyes met her
cool stare. “Would it be presumptuous to inquire if you have an opening on your
dance card?”
    Dorothea ran her finger down the dance card. She inscribed Sir
Randall Trent.
    “The next waltz,” she announced to his ultimate delight.
    Randall could not believe his luck, a waltz! “I shall return
shortly to claim my dance then.” In parting, he took her gloved hand in his and
raised it to his lips. Moving away from Lady Dorothea, Randall scanned the room
for his uncle.
    “Is that you, Trent?” Sir Thomas White made his approach,
followed by Donald Sinclair.
    “Sir Thomas,” Randall greeted. “Is that Sinclair with you?”
    “What the devil are you doing here?” The surprise on Thomas’ face
was only surpassed by the amazement on Donald Sinclair’s.
    “Wouldn’t have thought you’d step into this place unless your
life depended on it,” Sinclair added.
    “Or unless you think it’s time for a wife.” Randall knew Thomas
must have thought that even further from the truth.
    “You’ve nearly got the whole of it. It’s my uncle who is here to
find a new countess.”
    “Ah, Rushton,” Thomas recalled, pointing him out on the dance
floor.
    Sinclair peered around to look. “Who is that exquisite lady with
your uncle?”
    Randall craned to catch a glimpse of Rushton’s dance partner. All
he could see was the smile on his Uncle Cyrus’ face. Dressed all in white, his
dance partner was lovely with her golden hair swept atop her head. Not the
almost white-gold of Lady Dorothea’s hair, but guinea gold.
    “Rather. She is a pure confection,” Thomas gasped.
    Donald Sinclair gave a sigh and grasped his chest near the area
of his heart. “I believe I am in love.”
    “Sinclair, you’re in love with anything wearing a white frock,”
Thomas accused.
    The country dance brought Rushton into closer range. So close
that Randall could see the fair face of his uncle’s dance partner. It was then
Randall felt all cheerful expression fade.
    It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be.
    Miss Larissa Quinn?

Chapter Seven
    What happened to rusticating in the wilds of Westmoreland?
    A lie. Clearly another lie she’d told. And why not? Randall had
lost count of how many falsehoods Larissa Quinn had told during the short
amount of time they had shared. Now she was dancing with his Uncle Cyrus.
    What stories would she be telling him? Was she now passing
herself off as an heiress? Or perhaps a princess from some far-off land?
    “Sir Randall? Sir Randall?” Sinclair repeated.