Free The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh by Stephanie Laurens Page B

the dais, but the music had no power to hold her; her attention slid, again and again, to her stepson’s tawny head, to his broad shoulders, to the way both shifted as, time and again, he and Mary Cynster exchanged comments. “The last thing I need,” she gritted out, so low that only Lady Carmody could hear, “is for Ryder to turn the silly chit’s head.”
    Lady Carmody considered, then opined, “I seriously doubt even he could turn Miss Cynster from her chosen path, and really, he can’t be serious about seducing her, can he? Quite aside from him knowing better—that he can’t without causing a massive scandal—she’s not at all his type.”
    Lavinia frowned. “That’s true.” She cast another glance at her infernal stepson. “But why is he here?”
    Lady Carmody shrugged and settled to enjoy the music. “Perhaps he’s simply bored and happens to like music.”
    Continuing to frown, Lavinia made no reply.
    Presumably he’s bored and just happens to like music—and he’s comfortable with me and, moreover, knows I’m not imagining snaring him . Mary settled on that as the most likely reason behind Ryder remaining by her side. Indeed, that reasoning made her inwardly smile. He feels safe with me.
    The notion of one of the ton’s most dangerous gentlemen hiding behind her skirts was one to relish.
    As the recital continued, she found herself not only enjoying the music but discussing it as well—having a sensible and intelligent conversation covering such topics as the combination of instruments best able to render each piece, the selection of works, the acoustics of the room, and that the increasing temperature would doubtless soon necessitate a retuning session—with Ryder.
    While she knew enough to match his interest on most aspects, the retuning was something she’d never understood, but in that he was proved correct.
    The more they chatted, the more she relaxed—and the more she enjoyed.
    Ryder seemed intent on nothing more than appreciating the music and sharing the moment with her in a totally unexceptionable way. During the intermission, they wandered into the refreshment salon, still talking—animatedly arguing the merits of a horn section over additional woodwinds—then, when summoned, returned to the music room and resumed their seats for the second and longer part of the performance.
    So absorbed in the moment was she—so anchored in the web created by the combination of the unexpectedly stimulating interaction with Ryder and the truly quite excellent music—that it was only toward the very end of the performance that the covertly inquisitive glances directed Ryder’s way from all corners of the room truly registered.
    But once they had . . . she inwardly blinked, wondering, then realized what was causing the older ladies—the few grandes dames present and the older matrons especially—to cast such intrigued and penetrating glances his way.
    Why was he there? More specifically, why had he come in the first place, and why had he remained?
    She’d assumed he’d come to protect Randolph from her, and once he’d confirmed that Randolph wasn’t there, had followed her to her chair and sat beside her because he’d wanted to listen to the performance and hadn’t wanted to be bothered interacting with anyone else.
    For a gentleman of his ilk to be interested in music, as he demonstrably was, wasn’t unheard of, yet previously that interest had never to her knowledge been sufficient to move him to attend an event such as this. From the interrogatory glances leveled at him, no other lady had seen him—lion that he was—at such an event before, either.
    A tingling sensation feathered across her nape and slid over the back of her shoulders.
    As Ryder himself had pointed out, this type of event held at this time of the Season was expressly designed to promote further connection between those contemplating matrimony, witness the large number of young couples scattered about the room