Free The Forsaken Love of a Lord by Kristin Vayden Page B

did one do after such a discovery?
    But he had to know.
    And so, he had taken shameless advantage of the opportunity the masquerade had presented.
    Much to Curtis’ dismay.
    The dance ended, and Edward bowed to his partner then turned and watched as his friend shook his head and walked away from him, a tightness gripping his chest as he realize that it was the first time his friend had taken such an action.
    Curtis was loyal to the death.
    Edward released a sigh of indecision before the first strains of a waltz began to ring out.
    Glancing to where Olivia stood, he narrowed his eyes as he saw that Curtis was also heading in her direction, a determined stride to his gait.
    It was now or never.
    Lord, help him.
    With a deep breath, he made his way toward Olivia.
    She was breathtaking, an angel of beauty and light in her cream-colored gown that seem almost translucent in the candlelight of the ballroom.
    Edward felt his thoughts veer in an entirely inappropriate avenue and struggled to keep his intentions as honorable as possible, under the circumstances. But the closer he got to her, the more his pulse raced. How was it that she had such an effect on him?
    It was unwelcome, yet, at the same time, he was powerless to stop it.
    And as he drew closer, he found that he didn’t want to stop it, rather bathe in the wonder of it.
    She noticed Curtis’ approach and gave him a welcoming smile. Edward felt the unwelcome emotion of jealousy slam into his gut. Curtis was smiling back at her, his eyes glowing with appreciation.
    Though a man would have to be cold in the grave to not appreciate her beauty.
    And in that moment, Edward felt very alive.
    As if sensing competition, Curtis’ gaze shifted, finding Edward’s advance toward Olivia.
    Curtis’ gaze narrowed, and he picked up his pace.
    Edward was just close enough to hear him begin to speak with her.
    “Miss Olivia, may I please have the honor of his dance?” He bowed and smiled in his charming way.
    Edward wanted to roll his eyes; rather, he simply bowed as well. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sheppard, but Miss Olivia already promised me this dance.” Edward held his breath.
    Olivia turned toward him, her stunning blue eyes widening as she noticed his presence. “Er…” She hesitated and glanced between Curtis and himself, seeming to try and determine which course of action to take.
    Edward’s gaze slid to Curtis, and in that split-second he saw his friend seeming to implore her to accept his hand. Edward returned his gaze to Olivia. He gave her his most winning smile, allowing a bit of a devilish gleam to leak through his expression. Or so he hoped. It seemed deuced awkward, flirting. He hadn’t done it ages.
    Olivia’s gaze met his unflinchingly. Softly, she reached her hand out and, he grasped it like a lifeline.
    “Mr. Sheppard, I’m sorry, but I had already promised a dance to this gentleman.” She spoke kindly to his friend and offered Curtis a smile. “Perhaps we can dance later this evening?”
    “I shall count on it, Miss Olivia.” Curtis spoke with warmth that evaporated as he met Edward’s gaze.
    Edward glanced away from the daggered gaze of his friend and met Olivia’s curious regard. “Shall we?”
    Olivia nodded and followed him as he led her to the dance floor. Her hand was warm, comforting as she allowed him to guide her. The fragrance of lemon clung to the air around her, startlingly different from the cloying fragrances that Marybelle had favored.
    Marybelle’s name was poison in his mind, stealing the beauty of the moment. He struggled to regain his composure.
    Olivia’s grip increased in pressure, and he turned toward her. Her eyes were kind, direct, as she seemed to gaze into his soul.
    His dark, black, and very bitter soul.
    Yet, she didn’t shy away; rather, she seemed to accept it, not run away in fear.
    He would have run if he’d known what was in his heart.
    He would run away now if he could. Not for the first time, he began to question the