The Angel in My Arms: A Regency Rogues Novel by Stefanie Sloane Read Free Book Online

kill by vexation—well, that’s the woman to do it. No, you’ll want to keep a goodly amount of distance between you and Lenora Tisdale, which means avoiding Sarah at all cost.”
    Marcus chuckled. “You’ve so little faith in my ability to elude the woman?”
    “Oh, it’s not that,” Bennington began. “I simply have more faith in Lady Tisdale.”
    “Where is Gregory?” Claire wondered aloud, looking about for her husband.
    Sarah stood as close to the wall as she could without weakening its structural integrity. “Never fear. Bennington knows you adore dancing. He’ll not let you down.”
    She watched the couples as they trotted through the steps of a country dance. It was so graceful that she almost—almost—found herself tapping her toes.
    “At last!” Claire exclaimed.
    Sarah followed Claire’s gaze and saw Bennington, his compact form making quick work of the distance between them. “Ah, your knight hath come!”
    “And he is not alone,” Claire replied, her mouth forming an O of surprise.
    Sarah spotted Weston just behind, his presence drawing morbidly curious glances from everyone in the room. “But why?” she asked, puzzled. Only yesterday she’d made his acquaintance covered in mud and dog slobber. This evening she’d bumbled her way through their earlier conversation, all but running from him in the end. She’d assumed the man would keep his distance. He’d struck her as intelligent, after all.
    “I can’t say that I blame him,” Claire replied hastily. “With the likes of Lady Farnsworth in attendance this evening, I dare say, if I were the earl, I’d spend the majority of my time with Gregory as well.”
    Bennington appeared at his wife’s side and smiled with besotted affection. “My dear, I believe you promised me this dance.”
    “That I did,” Claire answered, offering her hand to her husband. “Lord Weston, do join us,” she added politely, cheerily looking about the room for his potential partner.
    Lord Weston followed Claire’s lead, his gaze skimming the crowd. Most wore looks of mild boredom—a few boldly displaying their outright disgust with the earl.
    “Miss Tisdale, may I have the honor?”
    “No,” Sarah answered quickly, her earnestness clear.
    “That is to say,” Claire interrupted in a smooth tone, “Sarah prefers to observe rather than participate.”
    Sarah snorted lightly. “What Claire is trying to tell you, Lord Weston, is that I cannot dance without causing injury to myself or my partner. I am utterly hopeless and destined to remain so.”
    Lord Weston quirked an eyebrow, his mouth curving with male amusement. “Come now, you can’t be as bad as all that.”
    Sarah looked expectantly at Claire and Bennington, the two nodding in agreement. “You see,” she waved a hand at the couple. “Even my dearest friends support the claim.”
    “Are you afraid to dance?” he asked, his eyes narrowed, challenging her.
    “Please,” Sarah ground out, never one to back down. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Her skin tingled with what felt oddly like anticipation.
    “Prove it.”
    Sarah had never been prone to violence; in fact, she abhorred the very idea. But she wanted to slap him. And then tell him in a most impolite manner why she had nothing to prove to him.
    And then slap him a second time.
    Dammit all
.
    “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “On your head be it—don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    He bowed and held out his arm. She laid her hand on his sleeve and he smiled, cocking his head toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”
    They joined a group and lined up with the other couples, clasping hands to form a circle. Priscilla Willit, the woman next to Lord Weston, visibly tensed at his touch.
    Lord Weston only smiled at her, his lips turning up at the corners in an irresistible fashion. “I’m so glad you were able to attend this evening,” he began.
    Priscilla’s demeanor changed, the