Free The Scarlet Spy by Andrea Pickens Page B

went far beyond the usual vices of drinking, wenching, and gambling.
    “A vulgar color, don’t you think?” He exaggerated his teasing tone. “I am crushed that you have yet to comment on
my
waistcoat. I would have thought that a lady from the country of the Renaissance would find this subtle shade of seafoam blue far more intriguing. Indeed, my tailor assures me that it is a work of art.”
    A spark of annoyance flared from beneath her sable lashes. But when she looked up, her gaze had darkened to a deep smoky green. “It suits your coloring to perfection—as I am sure you know well.”
    “I was not fishing for compliments, Contessa.”
    “And yet I rose to the bait,” she said tartly.
    Her humor was quick, cutting. To his surprise, Osborne found himself enjoying the verbal thrusts and parries. It was stimulating, in a way that was difficult to describe. “Would that you were hooked on my company. But alas, it appears you can’t wait to wriggle away from me.”
    Lady Sofia stilled her fidgeting. Yet her eyes kept darting over the supper crowd. “Perhaps if you would speak to me as if my brain were as well-developed as other parts of my anatomy, I would find our time together a more comfortable experience.”
    Osborne nearly choked on a swallow of champagne. “From that barb, am I to assume you prefer plain speaking?”
    “Yes.”
    “Most ladies would rather hear sweet nothings.”
    There was a hint of hesitation. “I am not like most ladies, sir.”
    He was fast becoming aware of that. Everything about her—the intense emerald gaze, the sultry dark beauty, the sleek stretch of muscle—was exotic. Unexpected.
    Before he could answer, she turned slightly, her eyes following a figure near the ballroom archway. “However, if you do not care to answer my questions, I can always ask the gentleman himself.”
    “Lady Sofia,” he began.
    “Lady Sofia!” Lord Webster approached, accompanied by none other than Adam De Winton.
    Osborne tried to warn his friend off with his eyes, but the baron was oblivious to the daggered look.
    “Allow me to introduce you to another admirer, Contessa.” He winked at Osborne. “Sorry, Dev. I tried to keep her to ourselves, but De Winton would not take no for an answer.”
    When it came to pleasures of the flesh, the word was likely not part of the man’s vocabulary, thought Osborne rather acidly.
    “Indeed, the lady is far too lovely to keep sequestered in this corner. I beg you will permit me the honor of making your acquaintance.” De Winton held her hand a fraction too long at his lips. “I have a confession to make, Contessa—I have been watching you from afar all evening, hoping for the opportunity to approach and pay my respects.”
    Lady Sofia favored him with a smile. “I, too, could not help noticing you, sir—or rather your waistcoat.”
    Osborne gritted his teeth to keep from grimacing.
    “Do you like bold colors?” asked De Winton.
    “That depends.”
    Osborne saw De Winton’s smile stretch a touch wider. “On what, madam?”
    Lady Sofia batted her lashes. “On a great many things.”
    Damn.
Was she actually
flirting
with the man?
    “As for your choice, sir, that is a very distinctive shade of scarlet. I was just asking if there was a story to it.”
    “Oh, yes. I would be most happy to tell it to you during one of the upcoming dances.”
    “Alas, I am afraid that my card is full, sir.”
    “What a pity.”
    Up close, De Winton’s gaze mirrored the reddish cast of his waistcoat.
Was the lady blind to the telltale signs of dissolution?
    “You must promise to save a waltz for me next time we meet.”
    “I shall indeed.”
    The crowd was beginning to drift back to the ballroom. Already the musicians were tuning their instruments.
    Osborne welcomed the chance to put an end to the exchange. “Lady Sofia, I believe Woodbridge is written in for this set.”
    If looks could kill.
The contessa did not look at all happy at his interruption. “Please