Free Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick Page A

slipped her gloved fingers under his arm with a graceful expertise that he could only admire, and continued to make the light dance on her fan.
    "A lovely day, is it not?" she murmured.
    "The good weather won't last long."
    "Come now, don't be so pessimistic, Mr. March."
    "It's not pessimism." It was difficult to avoid the damned fan, he discovered. Celeste managed to angle the thing in such a way that it kept snagging his gaze. He had a sudden urge to snatch the thing out of her hand and toss it into the gutter. "It's a statement of fact."
    She tilted her head so that the pink straw bonnet framed her pretty features to excellent advantage. "I collect that you are a man who prefers to deal with the hard realities of life. Not one who allows himself to enjoy fantasies and dreams."
    "Fantasies and dreams are for those who wish to delude themselves."
    "I disagree, sir." She looked at him over the top of her fan again, her eyes as bright and intriguing as the shiny beads. "Some fantasies and dreams can come true. But only for those who are willing to pay the price."
    "I think it far more likely that after handing over the required fee, one would find oneself left holding only a handful of sparkling bubbles that would soon burst and disappear."
    Sparkling bubbles that would look very much like the glittering beads on the fan, he thought.
    She smiled at him and, with a quick twist of her hand, made the fan dip and swoop. "Perhaps your problem is that you have never had the good fortune to actually encounter a fantasy or a dream. My advice is not to judge the value of the goods until you have had a chance to sample them."
    "As I am not likely to be offered free samples, I doubt I shall have the opportunity to form any judgments concerning the wares."
    "Ah, now, in that you are seriously mistaken." Celeste laughed again and squeezed his arm lightly, intimately. "I can assure you that there are free samples to be had if one happens to know the right place in which to shop."
    "As I just told you, I am not particularly keen on shopping."
    The fan fluttered in her hand. The tiny lights flashed.
    "I can show you where to find some very excellent free samples, Mr. March," she said softly. "What is more, I can promise you that when you have had a taste of the wares you will be completely satisfied."
    He looked down into her glowing eyes. "Would you mind putting that bloody fan away, Mrs. Hudson? I find it irritating."
    She blinked, clearly startled. The fan stilled abruptly in her hand. The invitation and the promise faded in her eyes.
    "Of course, Mr. March." She snapped the fan closed. "Forgive me, I had no idea that it bothered you."
    "Mrs. Hudson," Lavinia called loudly from halfway down the block. "This is a surprise. Imagine meeting up with you and Mr. March here in the middle of the street."
    Tobias smiled at the sound of her voice. It was a crisp, bracing tonic, a strong antidote to Celeste's cloying sweetness.
    He watched Lavinia stride purposefully toward them, a small bundle that no doubt contained a newly purchased volume of poetry in one hand, a perky green-and-white parasol in the other. She was dressed in a deep emerald green gown and a striped-green pelisse.
    Another one of Madam Francesca's creations, he thought. The gemlike hues set off Lavinia's red hair, which was bound up beneath a clever little green hat.
    She came to a halt in front of him and gave him a steely smile.
    "You're late," she announced.
    She was not in a good mood, he realized. Beneath the wispy veil of the hat, her eyes glinted in a dangerous fashion.
    "My fault, I'm afraid," Celeste murmured. She did not take her hand away from Tobias's arm. "We bumped into each other here on the street and fell to chatting. I trust you will forgive me for distracting your Mr. March for a moment or two?"
    "In my experience, Mr. March is rarely distracted unless he wishes to be distracted." Lavinia gave Tobias another icy little smile. "I collect that the subject you were