Free B005R3LZ90 EBOK by Cheryl Bolen Page A

the pleasure?"
    She answered him with twinkling eyes and an outstretched hand.
    The dance was a waltz. He could close his eyes as he drew her near and almost imagine he was once again waltzing with Diana. Until now, he had never noticed that Sally's tall, lithe body was almost exactly like Diana's. Such a resemblance had been completely hidden by the facts that Diana was dark while Miss Spenser was fair, and Diana was beautiful while Miss Spenser was plain. He decided he had better keep his eyes open.
    Sally felt rather stiff—even shaky, he'd say—at first, but as the two of them talked and he teased her about her shyness, she grew more comfortable in his embrace. She really was a rather graceful dancer, which surprised him. Since she refused to sing, he had always assumed she had no musical talent whatsoever, and dancing did, after all, require some musical talent.
    She smelled good, too. Not with an overpowering scent but a light floral one that suited her well. His face came into contact with her golden ringlets, and he had to smile. She wore her hair in curls to please him. Not because she had even the slightest romantic interest in him, of course, but because she aspired to make him a good wife.
    In every way but one.
    After that first set, George was pleased when Appleton asked Sally to stand up with him. Just as George fell back to drop into a chair, Miss Johnson came up to him, her eyes rounded. "I have just arrived, my lord, and cannot believe what I've been told. Surely you cannot be serious about wanting to marry Miss Spenser! I must have heard wrong."
    Were she a man, George would have struck her. "I've never been more serious in my life, Miss Johnson. With the exception of fortune, Miss Spenser is possessed of everything any man could ever hope to gain in a wife."
    Her brows lowered. "How could you settle for . . . that when you were married to such a beautiful woman?"
    His anger boiled within him. "I fail to see how Miss Spencer's loveliness could have escaped you." He glanced across the dance floor until he caught sight of Sally's saffron dress as she faced Appleton in the middle of the longway, and George feigned a look of pure adoration. "When her hair is curled as it is tonight, there could not be anyone lovelier than Miss Spenser."
    George turned his back to Miss Johnson. A rather direct cut for a rather rude woman.
    Though George refused to dance with anyone but Sally that night, he took pleasure in watching her being treated with respect by his friends. Each of the twins dutifully took turns dancing with the future viscountess.
    The evening grew tediously long. George did detest these affairs. He would much rather be in the card room. Actually, he looked forward to being safely wed so he could return to his ways of debauchery.
    After what seemed an interminable length of time, the activities drew to a close. Instead of departing in Moreland's carriage, George said, "I prefer to walk the short distance back to Blankenship House. I wish to be alone with my betrothed."
    At George's announcement, Felicity's eyes flashed with mirth, and a sly smile lifted a corner of Moreland's mouth.
    George offered Sally his arm, and they began to stroll along the well-lighted pavement, something he never would have done at night in London. But Bath was a most safe city. A pity it did not compare as favorably to London in other respects. After all this time in Bath, George still was not used to seeing the twisted, misshapen, infirm masses of suffering humanity that found their way to the city, eager to be cured of their afflictions, though seldom satisfied with the results.
    "I go to Surrey tomorrow to speak with your brother," he said.
    "It's really not necessary. I'm of age."
    "I wish to do what's right, Sally, and your brother is the head of your household. Do you think he'll favor my suit?"
    She laughed. "Can you doubt it? You're a viscount. What brother—or father—would not be delighted?"
    "But my fortune in no way