Lord of the Rakes Read Online Free PDF Page B

amber, he’d barely noticed the smaller, paler girl still at her right hand. “No, no, next to her. With the chestnut curls and the amber gown.”
    Miss Langley craned farther. But at just that moment the fair girl took her friend’s arm and led the amber lady another few steps along the edge of the room until they were obscured by one of Mrs. Gladwell’s famous gilded pillars. Ah. Philip’s smile broadened. The amber lady’s friend—Fiona Rayburn, was it?—had pulled her aside to shield her from the importunate gaze of the Lord of the Rakes.
    But, it seemed, the lady herself was possessed of a bit more nerve, or at least curiosity. Moving with ostentatious care, the amber lady stepped a little ways out from behind the pillar and turned her head. She didn’t look directly at him, not at first. Rather, she scanned the shifting, noisy crowd of the ballroom, as if looking for an acquaintance. Only slowly did her eyes slip toward him, and their gazes locked.
    Lord, she was beautiful. Looking at her wide eyes, Philip felt like a schoolboy, all eagerness and no finesse. Every bit as tempting was her luscious mouth. A fastidious dandy like Gideon might say those full, dark lips were too wide for her delicate face, but Philip found those lips deeply intriguing. He thought how it would feel to teach that full mouth to tease and to take, and enjoy every moment of it.
    Not that mouth and eyes were her only intriguing features. Whoever she was, she was far enough past the first blush of youth to have developed genuine bearing. Her high-waisted amber gown was cut to within a hairbreadth of propriety. It showed her lush and rounded form from throat to derriere. A man could spend a long, pleasurable time thoroughly appreciating the nuances of such curves.
    “I don’t know her,” said Miss Langley in answer to a question Philip had almost forgotten he’d asked. “But clearly, Mr. Banbridge does.” She pointed discreetly with her fan to the narrow man in his nip-waisted silk coat endeavoring to shoulder his way through the crowd.
    Philip frowned. He was acquainted with Lewis Banbridge, but the acquaintance wasn’t one he particularly enjoyed. Banbridge was a dandy to rival Gideon Fitzsimmons. The difference between them was that Fitzsimmons made his own way, but Banbridge lived off his father and his expectations. Old Lord Banbridge, however, was less than pleased with the way his son had turned out and kept Lewis on a ludicrously short leash. The result was that Banbridge owed everyone in town, including Philip.
    Philip found himself watching intently as Banbridge edged free of the crush, strolled up to the amber lady, and made his bow. How would she receive him? Could she conceivably be a Banbridge relative? Or were they acquaintances? Friends? More? These possibilities flashed through Philip’s mind in a single heated, and surprisingly worried instant.
    Much to Philip’s relief, the amber lady’s face stayed blank and cool as Banbridge spoke. He could not hear what she said to Banbridge, but he could see her mouth framing only brief answers to his remarks. In fact, Miss Rayburn seemed to be carrying the greater part of the conversation while the amber lady’s attention drifted about the gathering.
    And lighted on him, again. Was it his imagination, or had the lady begun to color under his gaze? Dammit, he was too far away to tell, and he found he very much wanted to know. He held her gaze, silently, willing that she keep looking at him. She did, for a time. For long enough for him to see something new—a deep longing written on the amber lady’s magnificent features. The strength of it, and the question in it, crossed the distance between them.
Are you the one?
her longing asked.
Are you the one who can bring what I need?
    Banbridge was still talking. The amber lady raised her fan to hide her lovely mouth from view and turned away once more to face her little friend. The movement denied him his inspiring view of her