All the Pleasures of the Season Read Online Free PDF Page B

I believe,” she said in her best lady-of-the-manor tone.
    â€œYou remember Mr. Fielding, Marianne. You met him last spring a number of times. Miranda plucked her sister’s hand free of her sleeve. “I know him quite well. We’ve danced before, and ridden in the park several times,” Miranda said breathlessly, wishing her sister would step aside.
    â€œYes, of course,” Marianne continued. “I believe I heard Blackwood say you were supposed to join the army—”
    â€œMarianne, the music is starting,” Miranda said, and put her hand in Gilbert’s.
    She felt the tingle of awareness run up her arm, and Marianne might have fallen off the face of the earth for all she knew or cared. His hand was warm through the lace of her glove, and he put his hand on her waist—a simple, correct, proper touch that left her as breathless as the most improper caress. Her nipples tightened traitorously, and her mouth watered. He led her expertly through the steps, their bodies fluid, perfectly matched.
    â€œMay I offer my congratulations?” he asked, his gray eyes smiling down into hers.
    She forced a smile, wanting to talk about anything else in the world but her upcoming marriage to Kelton. She wanted to ask Gilbert why he had stopped visiting, or riding with her in the park, why he never made an offer for her hand, if he loved her, but she bit her tongue and merely said, “Thank you.”
    â€œYou look beautiful, Miranda. And happy.”
    Was she happy? For the moment, perhaps, in his arms. She batted her lashes at him. “It’s my mother’s jewels,” she said. “They’re magnificent, aren’t they? Grandfather wants me to wear them at the wed—” She stopped.
    â€œThey’re magnificent because of the lady wearing them. They are reflecting perfection, so they cannot help but sparkle.” He tilted his head and looked at her teasingly. “The blue of your eyes is infinitely more lovely.”
    â€œOh, Gil,” she forced herself to laugh lightly, though she wanted to sigh, lean up and kiss him for his sweet words. It was what she needed to hear, what she craved. She stared at his mouth, watched his lips ripple. There was a cut on his lower lip, and as she looked closer she saw the shadow of a bruise under his eye, a small graze on his cheek. He smiled. “I was sparring with your brother. I daresay he looks as bad as I do.”
    Kelton never boxed. His face was too perfect, too untouched by either hardship or sport. She wondered if her fiancé used a parasol in the sun. Kelton’s lips were smooth, shapely, and uninjured, and she felt absolutely nothing when she stared at his mouth. She wanted to touch the small hurts on Gilbert’s face, first with her fingertips, then her lips. She forced herself to smile, to tease him with her eyes.
    â€œI have missed you, Gilbert.” She noted she had no trouble at all using his Christian name. “What have you been doing that has kept you from visiting me?” She was too close to admitting her feelings, her disappointment that he had not called, or offered for her hand, or kissed her. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she blinked them away and made her smile more brilliant still, playing a carefree, happy woman while her heart broke.
    â€œI’ve made arrangements to take up my commission. I shall be leaving very soon.”
    She stumbled, and he caught her, lifted her as if she weighed nothing, swung her through the next step—strong, capable, and protective. For an instant her breasts were crushed to his chest, her face inches from his. Then he set her back on her feet and they danced on. She met longing and regret in his eyes, knew it matched her own expression. Her forced smile faded.
    â€œIt’s for the best,” he murmured.
    â€œIs it?” she asked, breathless. “You might be killed!” She couldn’t imagine a world without him in