Free Behind The Horseman (The Underwood Mysteries Book 3) by Suzanne Downes

friends were gathered there to greet him and he noticed each one in turn and with growing pleasure.  The Wablers were all surrounding Lady Cara, vying for her attention, as she flirted with her fan and laughed at their elaborate gallantries.  Mr. and Mrs. Gratten, with their eldest daughter Georgiana, were chatting to Lady Hartley-Wells and her companion Miss Cromer.  Adeline Thornycroft was talking, apparently quite happily, to Rogers, not in the least put out by her husband’s pursuit of Lady Cara Lovell.  She knew where his heart really lay and no amount of flirting was ever going to change that fact.
    The advent of the newcomers was greeted with delight and Underwood soon found himself borne off to join the dancers in the ballroom.  Dr. Russell renewed his London acquaintance with Mrs. Rogers and Jeremy complained vociferously when Lady Cara claimed Underwood for the first dance, wilfully ignoring his protests that he never indulged.
    The steps of the dance continually moved the pair apart, a circumstance which Underwood found intensely wearing, but which delighted Lady Cara, allowing her to say outrageous and provocative things, but then not having to face the embarrassing consequences until the dance brought them together again several moments later, by which time the sting had been removed.  This was one of the things Underwood hated about dancing, for he always thought of a witty reply just too late to deliver the riposte, and by the time he re-met his partner, the moment was long gone.  He felt, quite rightly as it happened, that he did not shine on a dance floor.  He was far too self-conscious, convinced that every eye in the room must be upon him, whilst in reality, he rarely merited a second glance because his dancing was so uninspired.
    “I had no idea Hanbury contained anyone quite like you, Mr. Underwood.  You are a revelation, my dear sir.”  They naturally moved apart at this point and Underwood watched her glide away from him, a stunned expression on his face.
    “What did you mean by that?”  he asked, as she floated back towards him, several seconds later, “By what?”  she asked innocently.
    “That I am a revelation.”
    “Did I really say so?  How very impertinent of me.  You must think me quite, quite incorrigible.”
    Underwood had no opinion of her whatsoever, except that she was damnably difficult to converse with, but he had no chance to tell her so, for the steps swept her away again.
    “Tell me, sir, would you rather be dancing, or walking with me on the terrace I noticed outside these very windows?”
    “Walking,” he asserted succinctly, as she departed.  He would have preferred to point out that he would rather be doing anything in the world rather than clod hopping around a highly polished floor, but time forbade his expanding upon this theme.  It was therefore impossible to resist her drawing him towards the tall windows when at last his torture was over.  Leaning against the stone balustrade he breathed deep of the cold evening air, more from relief than any other cause.  She stood beside him, her back to the view, her eyes fixed on his face.  She felt it was a physiognomy full of character; the forehead was perhaps a little high, the nose a little long, but an intelligent face, the grey eyes humorous and kindly, the lips sensuous.
    “Do you find me beautiful, Mr. Underwood?”  she asked suddenly.  He glanced sharply down at her, then grinned.  He had a vague notion she knew he was married and was merely being provoking – as indeed she had been all evening.
    “Good God, no!  You are not my style at all, young lady.”
    She thought he was flirting, and was delighted with his answer – so much more interesting than breathy, amorous declarations of unsophisticated boys.  She smiled in return, “Quite right!  You are not my style either.  We shall have to agree to find each other exceptionally unattractive.”
    “It would be, by far, the safest