Vivian Roycroft by Mischief on Albemarle Read Free Book Online

and Goodwood."
    George Anson. Despicable, self-centered, preening, ridiculous George Anson. Debbie Kringle had put him in his place with one long, cool stare at the Christmas Eve ball, after he'd tried to claim more than two dances with her. How everyone had laughed. Without letting him see, of course.
    Then, they'd laughed. Now, she'd not shudder again; Nan deserved better, after the marvels she'd achieved with Beryl's flyaway copper curls. The rose pink satin ball gown, the only shade of pink or red that didn't clash horribly with said curls, was a smidgen tight, not to mention low cut and draping off her shoulders in the most provocative, daring manner. But it was also a nightmare to fasten all those tiny pearl buttons, and Nan didn't need further irritation.
    Nor did Beryl, come to think of it.
    "Or the Earl of Norcross." A heaved sigh, sagging shoulders, and dreamy eyes, which looked ridiculous in that heart-shaped face, with those plump, rosy cheeks. Not to mention all too overdone. "He must be one of the most handsome men in London, in the entire world." Belinda's eyes popped open. A bit too squinty for believability.
    If only Papa would allow her to come out now.
    A rustle of cotton, and Nan rose with a satisfied, wry nod. All done, and the rose pink satin hugged her waist and hips, flowed to the floor with the overdress of exquisite lace echoing each line. Beryl whirled from the mirror and grabbed the ribbon, yanking it from Belinda's startled fingers.
    "I assure you, my girl, you'll have your chance. Norcross and George Anson will still be available when you come out. And you're welcome to them."
    ****
    The ballroom's barrel roof soared above, Cipriani's murals lost in the chandeliers' burning glare. Primrose panels, white pilasters, and walls of the palest yellow all glowed in the candlelight, very much like the gilt work near the roof, and night pressed against the vaulted windows as if yearning for a ticket to the entertainment within. His Grace lounged before one pilaster, opposite the entrance, as the fashionable but not top-drawer crowd flowed past him, silks and pearls and witty conversation all glittering in the chandeliers' flames. Lady Grantholm fluttered her fan in passing; again he smiled at her, and again he let her go. Infidelity was the game of churls and not one that attracted him.
    In one corner, Fitzwilliam stood out amongst a quartet of gentlemen by his sullenness, his only concession to the evening's supposed gaiety being the glass of champagne he held in one hand. Only his second drink, that was; alcoholic over-consumption, it seemed, was not one of his shortcomings. His friends, however, might be coming up a bit short, for while two of them were dressed normally and well, the fourth of the group wore full Highland regalia, from his belted plaid to his bare knees, outrageous stockings, and silver-buckled shoes, all in an eye-scalding combination of orange and black. The drifting, chattering crowd left a little circle about the wild man — the better, it seemed, for the ladies to eye his curved calves and the arrogant swirl of his hemline.
    And beau monde society considered him outré .
    Near the opposite corner, beyond the musicians' dais, a bevy of beauties surrounded a still elegant matron with a lace cap, a suspicious stare, and thick brown curls the exact duplicate of Miss Violetta's. Actually, the relationship had to be the other way around, as this most assuredly was the maiden's mama, the Eighth Baron Lisle's esteemed wife. And amongst the ladies under her care, Miss Beryl stood out for the dusky rose pink of her gown, a clear flash of exquisite color visible all the way across the ballroom.
    And what a gown.
    It took a sturdy feminine heart to wear that assemblage of satin and lace. Not only because of the sheer amount of décolletage it displayed, not only for the suggestively accident-prone way the capped sleeves drooped off her shoulders, not even for the fact that she had to have