Free The Devil's Waltz by Anne Stuart Page A

air would clear her addled brain and sweep away any lingering thoughts about last night.
    She found Hetty in her overripe bower, reading something. She quickly shoved it out of sight, but not before Annelise could recognize the look of it. It was a French novel, of the type Annelise favored. She hid them, too, knowing the kind of contempt they garnered from the rest of the world. She wondered if Hetty’s was one she hadn’t yet read.
    She wasn’t about to ask and lose her dignity completely. “I thought a walk in the park would do us both good,” she said abruptly. “We both could benefit from the exercise.”
    Hetty glared at her. “I had plenty of exercise last night—I danced every dance while you sat in the corner. Take a walk by yourself.”
    Annelise was torn between relief that Hetty apparently didn’t know she’d danced with Christian Montcalm and annoyance with her rudeness. Her temper won out.
    â€œI had a very pleasant dance with a very handsome man,” she said. At least half of that wasn’t a lie. “And you need fresh air as much as I do.”
    â€œI’ll open a window.”
    â€œYou’ll put your shoes, your hat and your cloak on and come with me, young lady,” Annelise said sternly. “Or I’ll inform your father who sent these gaudy flowers.” Blackmail had always been an effective tool.
    â€œHe probably knows,” Hetty said in a sour voice, but she moved off the chaise and reached for her discarded shoes. “And I told you, I can talk him into anything.”
    â€œIncluding marrying a murderer?”
    She’d said it for shock value, but to her dismay Hetty simply shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t believe he killed anyone.”
    â€œHe’s killed at least three people in a duel.”
    â€œThat’s different. Though I’m going to have to change his ways…the crown frowns on dueling and I don’t fancy having to go abroad until some scandal dies down.”
    â€œYou’re going to change him?” Annelise repeated, skeptical.
    â€œOf course. Once he settles down I suspect he’ll be just as tame and boring as all the husbands I’ve met. Domestic life tends to have that effect.”
    â€œSo once he weds you he’ll have no more interest in gaming, dueling and mistresses?”
    â€œWhy should he?” Hetty’s blue eyes were guileless. “He’d have me.”
    Annelise couldn’t argue with such dedicated self-approval, so she didn’t bother. “How pleasant,” she murmured, feeling the piece of paper burn against her skin. “But I have less faith in the redemptive powers of love.”
    â€œThat’s because you’re a spinster,” Hetty said withno real malice. “No one wanted you, so you think that true love doesn’t exist.”
    â€œAnd you think Christian Montcalm loves you?”
    â€œOf course. How could he not? I’m beautiful, lively, graceful and very rich. I’m irresistible.”
    There was the trace of something in Hetty’s voice that made Annelise listen a little closer. She kept underestimating the girl’s intelligence—there was a note of cynicism in her voice that she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to recognize. For some reason Annelise wanted to reassure her, but she resisted the impulse. Hetty might know her main allure was her dowry, but she had little doubt as to her own beauty, and that kept her very happy indeed.
    It was a lovely day, just a bit cool, but the sky was bright blue and the park was crowded with strollers and riders. Annelise kept a wary eye out for a certain exceedingly tall gentleman, but he was mercifully absent. Besides, what was the likelihood of him appearing in the park at just the moment she brought her reluctant charge outside? He was hardly the type to lie in wait without a good idea that his efforts would be rewarded, and Hetty had