Free The Kiss of a Stranger by Sarah M. Eden Page A

unnerved at the thought of speaking to so many people. Crispin quickly glanced at her, expecting to find her a moment from fainting, but she looked perfectly at ease.
    Catherine’s hand tightened on his arm, and he distinctly heard her breath shake. She was nervous, but no one would be able to tell simply by looking.
    “Lord Cavratt.”
    Crispin offered a polite bow to their host. Lord Hardford always wore bold colors. He’d selected a vivid purple for his well-tailored waistcoat. Crispin had always preferred the more subdued black though occasionally opted for white. Lizzie had scoffed at his “dullness” many times during the past three years.
    Lady Hardford sported a high-necked dress of deepest blue silk with feathers fanning out at her neck. She looked precisely like a vulture, just as he’d described her to Catherine. Crispin barely kept an even countenance.
    “This must be Lady Cavratt.” The viscountess had a reputation for taking over every conversation in which she took part. “So pleased you could join us this evening.”
    Catherine curtsied prettily and offered a subdued smile, just as any lifelong member of the ton. “Thank you for extending the invitation.” She spoke no more forcefully than ever but managed to cover the uncertainty Crispin knew she felt.
    Good show, Catherine.
    “Where have you been hiding this diamond?” Lady Hardford smiled, tapping Crispin on the arm playfully with her fan. “I am quite certain I have not seen her in Town before. Were you hiding her in some hamlet? Keeping us all in the dark until the opportune moment?”
    “Do you wish me to give away all my secrets in one night, Lady Hardford?”
    She smiled as he expected her to.
    A bit of flattery and they could move on. “Yours is, as I’m sure you must realize, the first assembly we have attended since coming to Town.”
    The viscountess pulled herself up rather like a rooster, her feathered neckline ruffling appropriately as the realization of the status this distinction would lend her appeared to sink in. Crispin offered another bow and lead Catherine toward the ballroom.
    “Well done, Catherine,” Crispin whispered, leaning toward her so his words would not be overheard.
    “She looked precisely like—”
    “I know.” Crispin barely held back a laugh.
    “How have I done so far?” Catherine asked in an urgent whisper. “Have I embarrassed you?”
    “Not in the least,” he replied and laid his hand on hers.
    “Then I will have to try harder,” she said.
    “To embarrass me?”
    “You practically asked me to.”
    Crispin quietly chuckled. “I am beginning to suspect that you are a handful.”
    Catherine pinked quite attractively and her lips twitched but didn’t turn upward. What would it take to coax an actual smile out of her?
    “Lord and Lady Cavratt,” the Hardfords’ servant announced to the ballroom.
    The room fell instantly silent. Catherine’s fingers tightened around his arm. She looked entirely composed, though he could still see a hint of fear in her eyes in the split second she looked at him before they stepped inside the suffocatingly attentive ballroom.
    Crispin could feel dozens of eyes upon them. Word of their sudden marriage had certainly circulated as, he was sure, had speculation about its future. He scanned the crowd for someone friendly whom he could count on being amiable. If Catherine’s first introduction could be pleasant, she might relax. Her fingers must have been white from strain beneath her gloves. If she gripped him that hard any longer, he would have to summon the sawbones for an emergency amputation.
    Almost miraculously, his eyes fell on Charles Ritfield, whose property adjoined his own in Suffolk. Though he was ten years Crispin’s senior, they got on well. Charles was one of the most agreeable men of Crispin’s acquaintance and not at all likely to devour an unsuspecting newcomer.
    “I see someone I’d like to introduce to you,” he told Catherine in low tones