Free B006DTZ3FY EBOK by Diane Farr Page A

in his waistcoat and rocked on his heels, humming under his breath.
    “Y ou a sporting man, Mr. Ellsworth? ”
    “E h? Oh — ah — not much. I ’ ve been known to take a rod out from time to time. Bit of an angler, you know. ” He illustrated his words with a helpful casting motion, to prevent misunderstanding.
    “I s the fishing good in Derbyshire? ”
    “T olerable. Tolerable. ” He rocked again, humming. “D on ’ t get out as often as I would like, ” he added at last.
    The conversation ground once more to a halt. Derek opened his mouth to try again, but the drawing room door opened and he made the mistake of glancing up.
    Whatever words he had been about to say died on his lips. His brain seemed to disconnect from his body and float up to the ceiling. There his wits hovered, out of r each, while he gaped like a hap less idiot below.
    Cynthia . The sight of her caused him actual, physical pain. It was as if Cupid ’ s evil shadow had arrived, firing arrows dipped in poison. How could a man harden his heart against such beauty? The answer was, he couldn ’ t. All he could do was stand his ground while the arrows hit home, one by one by one. A quiverful of anguish, aimed unerringly at Derek ’ s bosom. He could almost hear their stinging onslaught: Ping. Ping. Ping.
    He dragged his eyes from the vision that was Cynthia and forced himself to concentrate, however dazedly, on the woman who entered with her. This must be Lady Ballymere. She was a slim, pretty, nervous-looking woman, as high-strung and graceful as a thoroughbred mare. As she glided into the room, she gave a rather artificial-sounding laugh.
    “D ear me! We always seem to be the last to arrive. I hope we have not kept you waiting, Your Grace. ”
    “N ot at all, Lady Ballymere, ” said the duchess placidly. “W e have still several minutes before the hour strikes. Are you acquainted with everyone here, I wonder? I think you may not have met Mr. Whittaker; he has only arrived this afternoon. ”
    Lady Ballymere turned to Derek with an overly bright smile. “N o, I don ’ t believe we have met. ”
    The duchess extended her hand, indicating that Derek should step forward. “P ray allow me to introduce you. Lady Ballymere, this is Lady Malcolm ’ s brother, Derek Whittaker. Mr. Whittaker, Lady Ballymere. ”
    Derek managed a creditable bow and said the expected phrase. “Y our servant, my lady . ”
    What a blessing social rituals were. At times of crisis, they were invaluable. No need for rational thought; one simply moved and spoke as one had moved and spoken a hundred times before.
    Lady Ballymere ’ s sharp gaze flicked over Derek. Her smile, already patently false, cooled even further. “H ow do you do? ” she said coldly.
    This was so strange that Derek ’ s befuddled wits gathered and focused. Lady Ballymere was evidently taking him in dislike. He could not imagine what he had done to offend her. Nothing whatsoever, it seemed, since he had never laid eyes on her until this moment.
    It occurred to him that this must be where Cynthia had learned her manners. His lip curled in cynical amusement.
    The duchess, oblivious to the host ility gathering in the air around her, gestured toward Cynthia . “L ady Cynthia , may I present Mr. Whittaker? ”
    Cynthia had stayed in the shadows near the door. Now she moved quietly into the light. “T hank you, Your Grace, but Mr. Whittaker and I have already met. ” She paused. Derek wondered whether she would acknowledge meeting him in London. Evidently she would not. She continued with, “H e very kindly escorted me back to the house today, after my mare cast a shoe. ”
    “I ndeed? ” The duchess looked from one to the other. Derek had no idea what, if anything, his expression conveyed; he could feel a muscle jump in his jaw as he tried to appear impassive. Cynthia gave nothing away. She stood with eyes downcast, detachedly studying the carpet. He envied her her poise.
    “W ell, that was