Free Too Scandalous to Wed by Alexandra Benedict Page A

the stitching in the fringe.
    As swift as she could, Henrietta dunked her hand into the shallow bowl, grabbed the fiery raisin, and popped the brandy-soaked fruit into her mouth, much to the jubilation of the crowd around her.
    “Hurray, Aunt Henry!” the children shouted in unison. “Hail to the Queen of the Snapdragon!”
    Devilishly pleased with herself, Henrietta mimicked her best royal curtsy. “Why, thank you, my dear lords and ladies.”
    The baron clapped his hands together and beamed. “What a good show, my boy!”
    “Thank goodness that’s over with.” Fan fluttering, the baroness clutched her large bosom. “Lights!”
    The attending footmen whisked about the room, lighting candles, tweaking oil lamps, and stoking the dwindling flames in the hearth.
    A bit breathless herself, Henrietta separated from the family and ensconced herself in a window seat, resting her warm brow against the chilled glass. It was Christmas Eve, the parlor a flutter of activity. But she needed a moment of repose. She still had a seduction to orchestrate—and tonight she intended to move the courtship along.
    With a discreet pinch, Henrietta assured herself the little velvet purse was still tucked up her sleeve—and had not drowned in the fiery bowl of brandy. It concealed a gift for Ravenswood: one she hoped would warm the viscount to her. Next she peeked at the doorway, and was pleased to see the mistletoe still in place, for it would come in handy later in the night.
    With a confident smile, she rested her brow against the window again. Across the room stood Ravenswood, conversing with his brother. Henrietta did not look directly at the viscount. Instead shefixed her eyes on the pane of glass and watched him in the reflection of the room.
    He looked so dashing, she mused. And he was watching her closely, she could tell.
    But she would not acknowledge his stare. It was another one of Madam Jacqueline’s cardinal rules: ignore the man as much as possible. Make him come to you.
    And it wasn’t long before Henrietta’s heart fluttered at the movement in the glass.
    Ravenswood was approaching.
    She scrunched her feet beneath her posterior, making room on the window seat should Sebastian wish to join her. He didn’t sit next to her, though. Instead he paused by the window, drink in hand, delft blue eyes perusing her figure in that familiar lanky stare.
    “How fare your fingers, Miss Ashby?”
    Tingles of pleasure rippled along her limbs at his low and husky drawl. “A bit tender, my lord.”
    She quelled a shudder when he took the seat next to her. “Let me see your hand.”
    It was a gruff command, and she all but squeaked in delight to see how much he cared for her. Oh, he loved her all right; she’d suspected it for years. But the mulish man had never made a public display of affection. This was a most favorable boon.
    She offered him her hand. Gently he clasped herpalm, and Henrietta all but toppled off the window seat.
    With exquisite tenderness, he stroked her fingers, glaring at the flushed flesh as though willing the injury away.
    But the slight burning sensation in her hand intensified the more he caressed her, and it wasn’t long before the rest of her body was feeling the heat as well.
    “Perhaps you should retire as Queen of the Snapdragon?”
    It took her a moment to gather her wayward thoughts and reply, “Perish the thought. The children would never forgive me.”
    He let go of her hand, let it slowly slip between his strong fingers. “I will get you a cold compress, Miss Ashby.”
    She delved deep into his stormy eyes, shivered at the loss of his touch. “No, wait!”
    Sebastian looked back at her. “What is it?”
    “Stay, Ravenswood. I have a present for you.”
    He eyed her curiously. “A present? For me?”
    Henrietta removed the small trinket from beneath her sleeve and presented him with the gift. “Here.”
    Sebastian stared at the satchel with obvious confusion. “What is it?”
    She thrust her