Catch a Falling Heiress: An American Heiress in London Read Online Free PDF Page B

his wife. A pity, for he has the highest rank. Still,” Helen added, her voice brightening, “the other two are taller, and every bit as good-looking. The brown-haired one is Viscount Somerton, the only son of Earl Conyers, but the black-haired one seems the most promising prospect. He’s been in New York for some time, and Mrs. Dewey thinks he’s here to find a wife.”
    “They always are,” Linnet murmured without bothering to glance at the object of this discussion. “You needn’t act as if it’s such a revelation.”
    “Yes, but he asked Mrs. Dewey about you while you were dancing and seemed very interested. He is the Earl of Featherstone, and—”
    Linnet lifted her head, frowning as the name stirred to life long-forgotten gossip. “Wasn’t Featherstone the peer who married Belinda Hamilton of Cleveland? I thought he died.”
    “That was Charles Featherstone, and yes, he died. This is his brother, John—or Jack, as his friends call him. He inherited the title when his brother passed away.”
    Belinda Hamilton’s marriage to the previous Earl of Featherstone was a lesson to any American girl with a sense of self-preservation, and might provide Linnet with the perfect way to yet again counter her mother’s insistence she marry a peer.
    Her attention captured at last, Linnet turned her head, following her mother’s gaze, lighting at once on the man in the center of the group, a man now staring back at her, a man whose hair was as black as a raven’s wing and whose heart, she could only conclude, was equally so.
    Everything about him spoke of a rakehell. His body, tall and powerfully built, seemed designed for wild sport and reckless pursuits. His hair, thick and unruly, lacked the discipline of pomade, hinting at a similarly undisciplined character. His face was handsome enough, she supposed, but its lean planes and sharp, chiseled features gave the impression to Linnet’s mind of a predatory hawk. His eyes, black and impenetrable, looked back at her without blinking—the hawk assessing possible prey.
    Linnet, however, was no naïve, hapless little mouse to be plucked up for her fat dowry. Faced with such an unscrupulous stare, she lifted one eyebrow in response. Perfected during her days at finishing school, it was a pointed indication to a rude man that he was being rude, and its usual result was to send the man in question scurrying off in abashed dismay.
    Not this man. Instead of looking away, he looked down, and those bold eyes roved with unnerving thoroughness over her person, from head to toe and back, pausing for far too long at the neckline of her gown, reminding her how low it was cut.
    For no reason at all, she blushed, heat spreading outward from where his gaze lingered at her breasts to all the other parts of her body—down her legs and along her arms, up her neck and into her face. Her toes curled in her satin slippers, and without thinking, she lifted one gloved hand to her chest to shield herself from his ill-mannered observation.
    His thick black lashes lifted. As his eyes met hers again, their corners creased with amusement, and one corner of his mouth curved up in a faint smile.
    Furious, Linnet tore her gaze away, and as she did, she caught sight of a footman carrying a tray filled with glasses. Feeling in desperate need of a drink, she plucked one of the glasses from his tray as he passed, and ignoring her mother’s disapproving stare, she downed half the cream sherry it contained in one swallow. She felt ready to address the point at issue.
    “It’s obvious the present Earl of Featherstone is no improvement over the previous one. Charles Featherstone married Belinda Hamilton for her money and everyone knows it. If the gossip is to be believed, he treated her badly after their marriage and made her miserable.”
    “Well, of course Belinda Hamilton was miserable in her marriage,” Helen agreed without batting an eye. “She was very New Money, dear, and completely unprepared to