The Earl in My Bed: A Forgotten Princesses Valentine Novella by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

mattered. Not her discomfort. Not his.
    His smile grew pained. He wasn’t one to endure idle banter. Meaningless chatter was simply that to him. Meaningless. He would typically have avoided a fête like this. He always had before. As a boy. As a young man. He’d never felt at ease in these gatherings. He was not like Brand or Owen, so at ease and free with a quip.
    But he was the earl now, and a voice inside him had prompted him to attend and be more sociable. More like his father and brothers. Beloved among the villagers and local gentry. The kind of lord who took his station seriously, who embraced the responsibility of his role and fraternized with the people under his care. The kind of earl even Owen would be if he was the heir. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he thought his father might be looking down on him now.
    He winced. Still chasing after his approval it would seem.
    He nodded at a widow, garbed from head to foot in starched bombazine, whose name he couldn’t recall. She prattled on, sharing some anecdote about his father.
    He gulped down the last of his champagne, wishing for something stronger.
    “Oh, it’s splendid having you home safely, my lord. We’re all praying for the safe return of your brother.”
    “You’re too kind,” he murmured.
    “Nonsense. Lord McDowell is loved by all. We can’t lose him, too.”
    “I am sure he will return safely.”
    Suddenly he caught a glimpse of hair as pale as moonbeams. It was there for a second and then gone, lost amid dancing figures and fluttering love knots.
    He set his glass down. “If you’ll pardon me,” he murmured, not even hearing the widow’s response as he walked along the perimeter of the dance floor, stalking only one female.
    He saw nothing else, acknowledged no one, nor the stares he was getting as he chased after another glimpse of the hair that could belong to only one. Suddenly bodies parted and there was a break in the crowd.
    And there she was.
    Fetching in a white gown trimmed in pink and gold ribbon. The waltz faded to a close and she stepped free of her partner’s arms.
    Jamie inched along, watching as the pair glided together from the dance floor. Her partner settled her hand in the crook of his arm much too intimately in Jamie’s opinion. She glowed, her face flushed and her dark eyes gleaming like polished onyx.
    A foul taste coated his mouth as the fair-haired man at her side closed his hand over hers in the crook of her arm. Who was he? Had she already moved on, found a suitor to deliver on the passion she sought? Apparently his actions hadn’t frightened her from her selfish quest, after all. A growl rose up in his throat as he watched them move toward the balcony door.
    “Lord Winningham, so delighted you could attend our little fête this evening.”
    He turned his gaze to the baroness, detecting the barest hint of scorn in her gaze. No one else would note it, but he did. Although all politeness, he detected the chilly reserve in her blue eyes. She’d never cared for him. Of course not. She was a friend to Paget and probably knew every wretched thing he had ever done or said.
    “I wouldn’t miss it,” he returned, performing a quick bow over her hand and donning an affable smile.
    “Indeed.” Her smile deepened but still did not quite reach her eyes.
    He could not help himself; his gaze slid to the balcony doors just as Paget and the stranger reached them.
    “Have you made the acquaintance of Mr. Bromley yet? Such a delightful man.”
    He shot her a quick glance, seeing she had followed his gaze to the departing pair.
    “No, I have not had the pleasure.”
    “Mr. Bromley attended school with my dear Sir John.”
    There was something in her voice that snared his attention. A certain wistfulness. He looked at her again. Even though Paget and the gentleman in question had vanished outdoors, the baroness still stared after them, a vaguely cunning look on her face.
    Watching her closely, he murmured, “Unfortunate