Free JORDAN Nicole by The Courtship Wars 2 To Bed a Beauty Page B

a bold, masculine virility that commanded attention and respect. Yet Roslyn found herself attracted to his rugged appeal, as well as his forthright manner and his wicked sense of humor.
    Because he disdained the frivolity and supercilious pretenses of the ton, Haviland had never bothered to learn the exalted social graces expected of an earl. Yet for his family’s sake, he had begun making an effort to establish himself in society.
    It was his regard for family that had most impressed her. She’d seen his affection for his nephews recently when he began teaching them to swim next door. And he was quite busy these days, squiring his elderly grandmother around London. Such kindness was just the quality Roslyn wanted in a husband.
    More important for her, Haviland was said to be in the market for a bride, although chiefly at his grandmother’s urging.
    Roslyn’s gaze moved over the ballroom, unconsciously watching for Lord Haviland. She didn’t see him among the dancers. Perhaps she should go in search of him….
    Roslyn looked up just then to see Winifred bearing down upon her with the Duke of Arden in tow. Deplorably, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. But then she pressed her lips together in vexation. After Lily’s warning, she knew precisely what Winifred intended. Regrettably, though, there was no escape.
    Rising to her feet, Roslyn stood reluctantly waiting for her ladyship’s assault.
    A large, ruddy-faced woman, Winifred had a booming voice and accent that betrayed her lower-class origins, but she was a kind soul and very well meaning. She’d been their dear friend and supporter for four years, ever since the disgraced Loring sisters had come to live at Danvers Hall with their step-uncle. In fact, she had been more of a mother to them than their real mother.
    The summer previous to their arrival, Winifred had been widowed, a misfortune that had left her heartbroken—which was rather odd considering that hers had been an arranged marriage where she had wed far above her station. Her father, a wealthy industrialist who’d made a vast fortune with his manufacturing and mining enterprises, had purchased a baronet for her in hopes of elevating his daughter to the gentry.
    Seventeen years later, Sir Rupert Freemantle had unexpectedly suffered heart failure, yet Winifred still wore the willow for him. She was dressed in the height of fashion now, but her gown of lavender crepe was the color of half-mourning. And she rarely was seen without a certain silver-enameled brooch pinned over her ample bosom in memory of her late husband, for inside was a miniature portrait of Sir Rupert. To anyone’s knowledge, Winifred had never considered remarrying, even though she was barely middle-aged now, no more than forty.
    She was fingering her brooch absently when she reached Roslyn. “There you are, my dear,” Winifred exclaimed jovially. “Why are you hiding yourself away like a wallflower? You should be dancing.” Without waiting for a reply, Winifred gestured at the nobleman beside her. “Allow me to present the Duke of Arden. His grace will make you an ideal partner, so I have brought him to you.”
    Trying to hide a wince of embarrassment, Roslyn offered Arden a polite curtsy, then murmured in an exasperated undertone, “Winifred, I am certain his grace can find his own dance partners.”
    “But none as beautiful or charming as you, dear. The duke will be well pleased to become better acquainted with you.”
    Since the music had just ended, her ladyship’s voice carried over half the ballroom. Roslyn felt color flood her cheeks at her friend’s obvious attempts at matchmaking. Lily was right; it was indeed mortifying.
    She stole a glance at the duke. His expression was enigmatic, so she couldn’t tell if he was feeling the same vexation that she was at being cajoled to dance with her.
    Indeed, he was all politeness when he bowed and said, “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Roslyn?”
    Roslyn managed a strained