Free Meet Me at Midnight by Suzanne Enoch

correct,” he mused, “because knowing about you is one of my desires. So indulge me. Tell me something about yourself.”
    She managed to summon enough indignation to answer him. “I don’t like you.”
    His soft chuckle reached all the way down to hertoes. “Something that isn’t about me, my darling.”
    Now he was simply gloating. Victoria clenched her jaw. They might agree that he wasn’t a fool, but she was certainly acting like one. “Then I suggest you pick a topic.”
    “All right.” He glanced around the room, his expression thoughtful. “Ah. Your friends. Tell me about your friends.” Gesturing with the hand at her waist, he indicated the stocky, square-jawed man who waltzed with Diane Addington. “Him. Why is he at your wedding?”
    She followed his gaze. “I don’t know. I don’t like him, either.”
    “Why not?”
    “That gentleman is Viscount Perington. He drowns kittens.”
    “It won’t get him sainthood, but it’s also not criminal.”
    “It doesn’t seem to matter whose kittens they are. And he keeps a count.”
    “Then how did he manage to get an invitation?”
    “My parents. He asked to marry me last Season, and my refusal deeply offended him.”
    Lord Althorpe’s expression darkened. “I assume, then, that this is your parents’ attempt to demonstrate that there are no hard feelings?”
    “No. They wanted to show him what a poor match I’ve made so he’ll be amused, and won’t refuse my father’s bid to add Stiveton factory-fired ceramic pottery to the products he exports. Shall I go on?”
    Far from showing the boredom she expected, his eyes seemed to smoulder with that same intensity she’d seen in him the last time they waltzed. “Yes. I’m fascinated. Continue—who is that scarecrow withthe high shirt-points over by the refreshment table?”
    Unlikely as his interest seemed, something compelled her to believe him. That magnetic energy between them didn’t lessen her anxiety, but it did cause a breathless anticipation she’d never felt before to rise in her. “Ramsey DuPont. He proposed to me last year, too.”
    “I hope he wasn’t wearing that same coat.”
    “Actually, he might have been. Lime green is his favorite color. It improves the tone of his skin, he says.”
    “And you rejected him because of his poor fashion sense?”
    “I rejected him because I don’t like him.”
    “Might you be more specific?”
    A smile curved her lips. “Looking for pitfalls to avoid?”
    “No, that would relate this conversation back to me,” he said smoothly. “I’m just curious.”
    “I can’t be more specific. It was just something about the way he assumed I would accept.”
    “How did he take your answer, then?”
    Unlike his heated reaction to Lucien Balfour, Sinclair’s queries about Ramsey didn’t seem to have any jealousy motivating them. Victoria decided to probe a little further. “Not well. I’m surprised he’s here, unless he means to make a scene.”
    Sin’s expression didn’t change. “That would be interesting. Nothing more subversive, though? Just shouting and flailing about?”
    “Mostly. Why, were you hoping for something worse?”
    His dark smile appeared again. “I just like to be prepared.”
    So did she. While he was learning several insignificant facts about her, however, she still knew nothing about him. “Your grandmother is very charming. And so is your brother. Christopher, isn’t it?”
    The waltz ended but again he kept hold of her, taking one arm and drawing her toward the refreshment table. “Yes. I’m surprised you’d never met them, though, being that you and Thomas were friends.”
    The jealous note was back again. Apparently he considered Lucien and Thomas to be serious threats, but not Perington or Ramsey. Interesting, that. It made her wonder whether he was jealous—and whether or not he looked at any other females with that intense amber gaze. In all likelihood he did, and, given his reputation, he would