Free The Devil's Waltz by Anne Stuart

bring himself to face sirloin and ale first thing in the morning. He drank chocolate, nibbled a brioche and stared out the window at the sky that was as blue as his baby brother’s eyes.
    By the time Crosby Pennington showed up at his doorstep, lamentably prompt as always despite the copious amounts of wine he imbibed, Christian was already bathed, dressed and ready to face the world, with nothing more on his mind than the far too easy challenge of Miss Hetty Chipple’s substantial portion. And the far more interesting prospect of dealing with the fire-breathing dragon.
    She’d probably thrown his flowers out the window, he thought. He knew who she was now—daughter of Sir James Kempton, who’d gone through his inheritance and killed himself with his reckless riding, leaving three daughters behind. Two married, one impoverished, unmarriageable, with only an Honorable to her name.
    The dragon. She’d had a season, someone told him, but she hadn’t taken. He’d probably seen her on some occasion or other, but despite her impressive height he hadn’t noticed her. But then, he seldom noticed anything but astonishing beauties, and the dragon, though possessed of a certain charm, was no diamond.
    The woman wore spectacles! Astonishing—he’d never met a woman under forty who wore them. They usually squinted at the world ingenuously, preferring to exist in a blur than ruin their looks—when most of them didn’t have looks to ruin.
    It wasn’t that Miss Kempton was unattractive. She had lovely gray eyes behind those intrusive spectacles, and a surprisingly delectable mouth. Her beautiful creamy skin made him think of the rest of her body, andif she was a bit too stubborn looking for most men, then they would be missing a most interesting challenge.
    Something he ought to skip, as well, he reminded himself. He needed to concentrate on securing Miss Chipple’s hand in marriage and make sure the vows were said before something could put a stop to it…like her chaperon, who could see him far too well out of those soft gray eyes. She looked at him and saw the wretch that he was.
    And as usual, it just made him want to behave even more wickedly.
    She’d be his reward and his challenge. Once Hetty Chipple was wedded and bedded, though not necessarily in that order, then he could concentrate on the very proper Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton.
    And he could find out if dragons really had claws.

6
    D espite the folded note that seemed determined to burn its imprint onto her breasts, Annelise faced the day with equanimity. It was a lovely day, and she had no intention of spending it indoors, any more than she was going to allow Hetty out on her own. A refreshing walk in the park along public paths would be just the thing to put roses back in the cheeks of her young charge…er…friend…
    Annelise scowled. She had always been most unfortunately outspoken—her elder sister had chided her for it, her father had laughed at it. She believed in facing things head-on, in calling things what they were and not prettying things up. Which, unfortunately, was not the way things were done in society. At the advanced age of twenty-nine she’d reluctantly learned to hold her tongue, but it still chafed.
    She was Hetty’s unpaid chaperon but Annelise had a job to do nevertheless, even though the details were unspoken. In return for a roof over her head, decent meals and the vague possibility of some help toward herfuture, she was little more than a governess shepherding her charge through the rough seas of society.
    Except one didn’t shepherd anything through seas, did they? The poor sheep would drown. She laughed at the notion. There was her imagination and her tendency to dramatize going awry again, tossing her into mixed metaphors that would have done her silly younger sister proud. She was spending far too much time thinking, and not enough time acting. Fresh