An Improper Proposal Read Online Free PDF Page B

dissatisfaction over the upcoming nuptials, let alone admit her ignorance in matters that involved the heart and not a compass, Payton simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “No.”
    She was a little startled when Matthew let out a horse laugh that was so loud, it echoed about the massive chamber. In fact, she had to smack him rather forcefully upon the shoulder to get him to be quiet.
    “It wasn’t that amusing,” she said. It was truly baffling to her how men seemed to go right out of their heads whenever there was a hint of bosom showing anywhere. Well, some men, anyway. Connor Drake had, unfortunately, seemed to remain in perfect possession of his wits when her bodice slipped.
    “Listen, Miss Dixon,” Matthew said, when he’d recovered himself sufficiently to speak again. “I was talking to the captain a minute ago, and what do you think he said?”
    Fumbling with her hair combs again, Payton said, “I can honestly say I haven’t the slightest idea what the captain said, Mr. Hayford.”
    “Oh, only that after dinner, there’s to be dancing. Real dancing, with an orchestra, not just some bloke playing his accordion.”
    Payton nodded. “I saw the musicians pulling up out front,” she said.
    “Well, Miss Dixon, would it be too forward of me to ask that you please save a dance for me? Would you mind?”
    Payton nearly stabbed the hair comb directly into her scalp. Turning her astonished gaze toward the young man, she stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar—not an attractive look, she realized, and one Georgiana had warned her to avoid at all costs. She remembered too late, and snapped her lips together like a grouper sampling air for the first time.
    Good Lord! A man had just asked her to dance! For the first time in her life—nearly nineteen years of life, to be exact—a man had actually asked her to dance. Payton couldn’t believe it. Hudson and Raleigh had been proved wrong in one swift, brilliant stroke!
    Struggling to remember what she was supposed to do—Georgiana had warned her this might happen, despite Payton’s assurances that she was far too boyish for any man even to consider asking her to dance—Payton chewed on her lower lip. She quite liked Matthew Hayford, a young man who, at twenty years of age, had a promising career ahead of him, and a rather nice head of thick dark hair—he had not been on the clipper with the lice infestation.
    Still, it was only as a friend that she liked him. He was quite handy with a sail, and played a clever game of whist, a favourite shipboard pastime amongst the officers. She certainly would never hesitate to hire him on as a mate when she finally got her own command. But dance with him? That was different.
    Still, it was only an invitation to dance, after all. He wasn’t asking her to marry him, for pity’s sake. So what was she waiting for?
    For him, a voice whispered in her head. For him.
    Right, she said to herself. Well, he is marrying Miss Whitby in the morrow, so you’d better bloody well set your sights elsewhere, missy.
    “Yes, thank you, Mr. Hayford,” she said politely. “That would be lovely.”
    “Oh.” Matthew looked a little astonished, but pumped her hand up and down quite emphatically, anyway. “That’s champion, Miss Dixon. Just champion. Till dinner, then?”
    “Till dinner,” Payton agreed.
    The two young people parted ways, Matthew heading for the billiard room, and Payton for the parlor where the ladies were said to be gathered. She had no trouble finding this room, since she could hear the tinkling of a pianoforte drifting out from behind the solid door, and recognized Miss Whitby’s lilting soprano as she sang a rendition of “The Ash Grove.” This song was a particular favourite of Miss Whitby’s, though Payton couldn’t think why, since it had a rather nasty narrative to it, about a young man finding his love lying dead beneath a tree. But then, Payton tended to find love ballads as a whole morbid, and vastly