Waltz With a Stranger by Pamela Sherwood Read Free Book Online Page A

deportment. Drawing upon her reserves of both, she summoned a smile and extended her hand.
    “Lord Trevenan,” she began, relieved to hear how calm her voice sounded. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”
    He took her hand, his clasp light and warm through the silk of her glove. Would he allude to their previous encounter, or had he forgotten it entirely? And if, by chance, he did remember, would he find it easier—as she did—to pretend they were meeting for the first time?
    “The pleasure is mine, Miss Aurelia.” His voice was the same—deep, pleasant, with that faint but attractive burr; the Cornish accent, perhaps. “Your sister has told me much of you.”
    She risked a glance at him. Was that recognition she saw in his eyes, or merely a reflection of her own desire? She could not be certain, but she felt again that stirring of attraction, followed by a pang of longing. Suppressing both, she said lightly, “All good, I trust?”
    “Relia!” Amy protested, laughing. “As if I’d say anything else!”
    His eyes warmed, just as they had that night. “Entirely good. I can but hope that she was even half as complimentary when speaking to you of me.”
    “You need have no fears on that score, Lord Trevenan. My sister speaks of you in only the most glowing terms.” Which wasn’t wholly inaccurate, Aurelia thought; Amy’s admission that she liked and respected her betrothed must count as high praise, coming from her.
    “I’m relieved to hear it.” He smiled at Amy, and Aurelia had to stifle another rebellious twinge at the sight.
    “The house lights are dimming,” Aunt Caroline announced from behind them. “I do believe the performance is about to start.”
    “I’ve saved you a place, Trevenan.” Amy indicated the vacant seat on her left.
    Thanking her, he moved to occupy it. Achingly aware of his every movement, Aurelia turned her attention toward the stage, hoping fervently that whatever happened there would be enough to distract her from Lord Trevenan’s presence in their box.
    ***
    “I love the Savoy operas, don’t you?” Amy murmured to James as the overture began.
    He murmured polite agreement, even though he’d only seen The Mikado and The Pirates of Penzance . Airy trifles, but he’d enjoyed both productions well enough. And since Amy was so fond of them, he would see that she had the chance to attend on the occasions when they were in London. And they would come to town from time to time, he acknowledged with an inner sigh. A successful marriage involved some compromises, after all.
    He glanced at his fiancée’s exquisite profile, scarcely able to credit that she’d accepted his suit: a provincial earl who had held his title less than six months and still felt far more comfortable poring over account books and galloping along the Cornish shore than frequenting London balls and receptions. Even with Kelmswood and Glyndon out of the running, she might have set her sights higher than James. And yet, for all her ambition, Amy was not without heart, as her obvious love for her family showed. James thought she liked him well enough, and he’d found it easy to care for so sweet and charming a girl. And desirable—surely no man with a drop of blood in his veins could deny her appeal. A deeper affection could easily develop between them, and in time, there might be children, a family of their own.
    Family. His gaze strayed to Aurelia, sitting on her sister’s right. He’d scarcely recognized her; despite what Thomas and Amy had both told him of her sojourn abroad, he had not expected so dramatic a change. The girl he remembered as a wounded bird had met his eyes squarely, with a bright, confident smile—and no sign of the brittle delicacy that had informed her every word and gesture in their previous encounter.
    And no visible sign of recognition either, when they were introduced just now. Granted, there was no reason why she should remember, he supposed. A year had gone by,