Free Almost Heaven by Judith McNaught Page A

tonight.”
    Her mind still on Ian Thornton, Elizabeth only half heard what her girlfriends were talking about when her two escorts led her to them. “I don’t know what men see in her,” Georgina was saying. “She’s no prettier than any of us.”
    “Have you ever noticed,” Penelope put in philosophically, “what sheep men are? Where one goes they all follow.”
    “I just wish she’d choose one to wed and leave the rest to us,” said Georgina.
    “I think she’s attracted to him.”
    “She’s wasting her time in that quarter,” Valerie sneered, giving her rose gown an angry twitch. “As I told you earlier, Charise assured me he has no interest in innocent young things. Still,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “it would be delightful if she did develop a tendre for him. A dance or two together, a few longing looks, and we’d be rid of her completely as soon as the gossip reached her adoring beaux good heavens, Elizabeth!” she exclaimed, finally noticing Elizabeth, who was standing beside and slightly behind her. “We thought you were dancing with Lord Howard.”
    “An excellent idea,” Lord Howard seconded. “I’d claimed the next dance, Lady Cameron, but if you have no objection to this one instead?”
    “Before you usurp her completely,” Lord Everly cut in with a dark look at Lord Howard, whom he mistakenly deemed his rival for Elizabeth’s hand. Turning to Elizabeth, he continued, “There’s to be an all-day jaunt to the village tomorrow, leaving in the morning. Would you do me the honor of permitting me to be your escort?”
    Uneasy around the sort of vicious gossip in which the girls had been indulging, Elizabeth gratefully accepted Lord Everly’s offer and then agreed to Lord Howard’s invitation to dance. On the dance floor he smiled down at her and said. “I understand we’re to become cousins.” Seeing her surprised reaction to his premature remark, he explained. “Mondevale confided in me that you’re about to make him the happiest of men – assuming your brother doesn’t decide there’s a nonexistent skeleton in his closet.”
    Since Robert had specifically said he wished Viscount Mondevale to be kept waiting, Elizabeth said the only thing she could say: “The decision is in my brother’s hands.”
    “Which is where it should be,” he said approvingly.
    An hour later Elizabeth realized that Lord Howard’s almost continual presence at her side indicated that he’d evidently appointed himself her guardian at this gathering, which he deemed to be of questionable suitability for the young and innocent. She also realized, as he left to get her a glass of punch, that the male population of the ballroom, as well as some of the female, was dwindling by the moment as guests disappeared into the adjoining card room. Normally the card room was an exclusively male province at balls a place provided by hostesses for those men (usually married or of advancing years) who were forced to attend a ball, but who adamantly refused to spend an entire evening engaged in frivolous social discourse. Ian Thornton, she knew, had gone in there early in the evening and remained, and now even her girlfriends were looking longingly in that direction. “Is something special happening in the card room?” she asked Lord Howard when he returned with her punch and began guiding her over to her friends.
    He nodded with a sardonic smile. “Thornton is losing heavily and has been most of the night very unusual for him.”
    Penelope and the others heard his comment with avidly curious, even eager expressions. “Lord Tilbury told us that he thinks everything Mr. Thornton owns is lying on the table, either in chips or promissory notes,” she said.
    Elizabeth’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. “He-he’s wagering everything?” she asked her self-appointed protector. “On a turn of the cards? Why would he do such a thing?”
    “For the thrill, I imagine. Gamblers often do just that.” Elizabeth