Rhonda Woodward by White Rosesand Starlight Read Free Book Online Page B

same. Keeping her smile slight, Marina met his gaze as he completed his bow.
    “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Buckleigh, Miss Buckleigh. With your leave my lady, perhaps Miss Buckleigh would honor me with this dance?”
    A wave of near panic rushed over Marina. Spending more than twenty minutes in such close proximity to Lord Cortland was the very last thing she desired—but there was no polite way of extricating herself from such a fate.
    Just as Mama opened her mouth to no doubt give her leave, Marina spied Henry Willingham, not far beyond Lord Cortland’s shoulder, gazing at her.
    After a split second of hesitancy, wondering if she dared, she lifted her hand in Henry’s direction. She smiled as radiantly as she could and said over Mama, “Oh, I am so sorry I must decline, Lord Cortland, but my partner is here. There you are, Mr. Willingham.”
    To her vast relief, Henry only looked slightly surprised at hearing her words and took her outstretched hand.
    She could not help glancing at Lord Cortland as Henry led her to the floor. The Marquis had the most galling ability to keep his expression—aided by that very aristocratic nose—positively bored, while laughing at her with knowing dark-lashed, golden-hazel eyes.
    Clearly, commandeering Henry had not fooled him, and he didn’t seem the least put out. How utterly annoying.
    Taking her place amongst the other dancers, she sent Henry her most serene smile, thankful the remaining dances were spoken for.

Chapter Five
    The next morning, the Marquis of Cortland joined Mr. Penhurst and John Fairdale in the well-appointed library. All three wore buckskins, riding coats, and boots that had lost some of their luster after an early morning ride around Mr. Penhurst’s newly acquired estate.
    They had enjoyed their breakfast before any of the other members of the house party showed signs of stirring.
    “I freely confess that I have no intention of reading these books, but I do like the idea of having them. A gentleman should have a creditable library.”
    Pen, as his friends called him, proclaimed this with such fervor Cortland could not let it pass. “Indeed, Pen, it’s clear your consequence has grown just by being in this room.”
    “Ha, just because you and John here while away your time reading doesn’t mean I’m of the same bent,” he responded cheerfully. “So what think you two of my party last eve? I find my neighbors quite congenial.”
    “Too many silly girls if you ask me,” John replied. Yawning, he leaned back in the deep leather sofa. “Lud, Pen, why would you subject us all to a gaggle of giggly, eager-eyed girls?”
    Pen shrugged carelessly. “Can’t be helped. M’sister, you know. She thought a ball the best way to establish ourselves here. Besides, there were a few pleasing misses last night. Baron Buckleigh’s girls are good-looking and had a bit of polish.”
    Cortland tossed the newspaper aside, recalling his unexpected, and in some ways surprising, encounter with Miss Buckleigh. “The company was unobjectionable, I suppose, although generally provincial,” he drawled. “I will own the eldest Miss Buckleigh is attractive even if she is much too aware of being the reigning belle of this backwater.”
    Pen, looking faintly hurt, said, “Backwater, you say? I’ll have you know this is some of the best foxhunting country in the land.”
    John, pushing a thatch of fair hair off his forehead, grinned. “Well, nothing else matters then, does it? But I agree that the eldest Miss Buckleigh is a fetching baggage, if a bit tall for my taste. But tell me, Cortland, the tension between you and Sefton was thick as soup last night—I suspect you are not satisfied?”
    “You mistake the matter, I am quite satisfied.” Cortland didn’t care to say any more on the subject of Nigel Sefton and allowed his thoughts to return to his unexpected encounter with Miss Buckleigh.
    Years ago, he had developed a healthy suspicion of beauty in moonlight; it could