Free Almost Heaven by Judith McNaught

from coming to fisticuffs,” she teased as they led her forward. “I look like an elderly lady, too weak to walk without someone on each side to hold her upright!”
    The two gentlemen laughed, and so did Elizabeth – and that was the scene Ian Thornton witnessed as the trio strolled by the group he was with. Elizabeth managed to stop herself from so much as glancing his way until they were nearly past him, but then someone called out to Lord Howard, and he stopped momentarily to reply. Yielding to temptation, Elizabeth stole a split-second glance at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the midst of the group. His dark head was bent, and he appeared to be absorbed in listening to a laughing commentary from the only woman among them. If he was aware Elizabeth was standing there, he gave not the slightest indication of it.
    “I must say,” Lord Howard told her a moment later as he escorted her forward again, “I was a bit surprised to hear you were here.”
    “Why is that?” Elizabeth asked, adamantly vowing not to think of Ian Thornton again. She was becoming quite obsessed with a man who was a complete stranger, and moreover, she was very nearly an engaged woman!
    “Because Charise Dumont runs with a bit of a fast set,” he explained.
    Startled, Elizabeth turned her full attention on the attractive blond man. “But Miss Throckmorton-Jones – my companion – has never raised the slightest objection in London to my visiting any member of the family. Besides, Charise’s mama was a friend of my own mama’s.”
    Lord Howard’s smile was both concerned and reassuring. “In London,” he emphasized, “Charise is a model hostess. In the country, however, her soirees tend to be, shall we say, somewhat less structured and restricted.”  He paused to stop a servant who was carrying a silver tray with glasses of champagne, then he handed one of the glasses to Elizabeth before continuing: “I never meant to imply your reputation would be ruined for being here. After all,” he teased, “Everly and I are here, which indicates that at least a few of us are among the first stare of society.”
    “Unlike some of her other guests,” Lord Everly put in contemptuously, tipping his head toward Ian Thornton, “who wouldn’t be admitted to a respectable drawing room in all of London!”
    Consumed with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Are you referring to Mr. Thornton?”
    “None other.”
    She took a sip of her champagne, using that as an excuse to study the tall, tanned man who’d occupied too many of her thoughts since the moment she’d first spoken to him. To Elizabeth he looked every inch the elegant, understated gentleman: His dark claret jacket and trousers setoff his broad shoulders and emphasized his long, muscular legs with a perfection that bespoke the finest London tailoring; his snowy white neckcloth was tied to perfection, and his dark hair was perfectly groomed. Even in his relaxed pose his tall body gave off the muscular power of a discus thrower, while his tanned features were stamped with the cool arrogance of nobility. “Is-is he as bad as that?” she asked, tearing her gaze from his chiseled profile.
    She was caught up in her private impressions of his elegance, so it took a moment for Lord Everly’s scathing answer to register on Elizabeth’s brain: “He’s worse! The man’s a common gambler, a pirate, a blackguard, and worse!”
    “I-I can’t believe all that,” Elizabeth said, too stunned and disappointed to keep silent.
    Lord Howard shot a quelling glance at Everly, then smiled reassuringly at a stricken Elizabeth, misunderstanding the cause of her dismay. “Don’t pay any heed to Lord Everly, my lady. He’s merely put out because Thornton relieved him of £10,000 two weeks ago in a polite gaming hall. Cease, Thorn!” he added when the irate earl started to protest. “You’ll have Lady Elizabeth afraid to sleep in her bed