Pursuing Lord Pascal by Anna Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

she
could bask in her unexpected popularity and admire this extravagant
world. That seemed cursed unfair.
    She’d saved Pascal two dances as he’d
requested. Well, insisted. But so far, he was yet to make an
appearance.
    There were plenty of other candidates to
dance with her, but she muffled a sigh as her latest partner
returned her to Sally’s side. She should have known Pascal’s
interest would fade. After all, London’s handsomest man would
hardly waste his time on a dressed-up rustic like Amy Mowbray.
    But that didn’t prevent a heavy lump of
disappointment from settling in her stomach. The supper dance
Pascal had asked her to keep came next.
    “Don’t look so downhearted, sweeting,” a deep
voice murmured beside her. “Clearly it’s time for the champagne
cure.”
    The joy that gripped her was frightening.
Still, Amy had the sense to compose her expression before she
turned and curtsied. “Lord Pascal, good evening.”
    Her cool response amused him. “And good
evening to you, Lady Mowbray.” He bowed and passed her a glass of
champagne. “Did you imagine I’d forgotten you?”
    She put on an airy tone. “I wouldn’t have
lacked for a partner.”
    “I’m sure.” He raised his glass in a silent
toast. “Would you like to join the set, or take a walk outside? The
Bartletts have put braziers on the terrace so their guests don’t
turn into icicles.”
    Wisdom dictated that after Pascal’s
declaration this afternoon, she’d be safer in a crowd. But the
number of people crammed into the ballroom made Amy feel confined
and suffocated.
    And some small, untamed part of her wanted to
be alone with Pascal. She thought his plan to marry her was
ludicrous, but he was still the most exciting man she’d ever met.
Even a brilliant occasion like the Bartletts’ ball lost all flavor
if he wasn’t there.
    When Sally had reminded her this afternoon of
their pledge to become Dashing Widows, something inside Amy had
broken free. She mightn’t want to marry Lord Pascal. But by heaven,
she meant to enjoy his attention while she had it.
    She raised her chin and met those worldly
blue eyes. “I would love a stroll, my lord.”
    The pleasure in his expression made her
shiver. Mostly with anticipation, although enough of the old Amy
persisted to add a dash of nervousness.
    “Excellent.” He presented his arm. “Shall we
go?”
    She caught Sally’s eye as she headed toward
the French doors. Her friend’s smile brimmed with approval, before
she turned to greet Mr. Harslett for the next dance.
    “Are you enjoying the ball?” Pascal asked, as
they stepped onto a terrace lit by torches and warmed, as promised,
with braziers full of coals.
    “Yes.” Surprised, she realized it was true.
Now that Pascal was here. Which made for a terrifying admission.
“I’m sure you’re so accustomed to London’s whirl that one event
becomes much like another. But since my marriage, I’ve led a very
quiet life.”
    Pascal gave one of those mocking laughs that
became familiar. “I’d be more convinced that your bucolic isolation
chafed, if I didn’t know how much you love it.”
    She cast him a quick smile and sipped her
champagne. This was her second glass this evening. The first had
been sour and flat. This glass, courtesy of Pascal, was just right.
“You’ve discovered my shameful secret.”
    They wandered down the steps into the
gardens. She caught glimpses of other couples snatching some air,
away from the ballroom’s stuffy heat, so she assumed this was
perfectly acceptable behavior.
    “It wasn’t difficult once I worked out you
were Stone’s sister. You’re the clever woman who wrote all those
articles on animal husbandry. I should have known from the first,
but then I never imagined I’d want to dance with an expert on hoof
disease in beef cattle.”
    “You’ve read my pieces?” Amy asked,
disconcerted.
    “With interest. I’m trying the new farming
methods on my estates, and my bailiff is a long-term