Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] Read Online Free PDF Page A

firsthand just how elegant Niclas Seymour could be. It had been eight years since her first of seven failed seasons, and though he’d never noticed Julia, she had most assuredly noticed him. In those days, the earl of Graymar’s cousin had been one of the most sought-after bachelors in London.
    Handsome and dashing, with shining black hair and deep blue eyes, Niclas Seymour had been the stuff of a young girl’s dreams. His manners had been all that were perfect, and nothing could be faulted in his dress or conversation. He was so self-assured and admired that he’d been the focus of every gathering, and women flocked to him.
    Julia, like all those hopeless others, had been secretly in love with him, though she’d been far too shy and awkward to do anything about it. She’d still been very youngat the age of seventeen, and it had been a terrible mistake for her parents to force her into a Season. Julia had understood their reasoning, of course; with four daughters to launch, getting the first and oldest married off as soon as possible was a necessity.
    But Julia had been far from ready for either society or men. Her body and mind had yet been immature, and she’d been cursed with spots. None of the eligible bachelors in London had taken a second—or even first—glance at her, and Julia had been wretched through every ball, dance, assembly, and dinner that she’d dutifully attended. Wretched, save for her one furtive pleasure: watching handsome Niclas Seymour as he smiled and danced, dreaming that it was she whom he was laughing and dancing with.
    She had known him at a glance those many years ago, even if he was walking down a street, some distance away, with his back turned to her. The very sight of him had made her heart beat with embarrassing quickness.
    But he was so changed, almost a different man. She could see nothing of his old, easy charm or self-assurance; indeed, when he stopped pacing and looked at them he appeared not to know how to proceed, although he surely had made hundreds of social calls in his life. The proper protocol should come as readily to him as it did to all of those who’d been raised in families like theirs.
    “Mister Seymour,” Lady Eunice said calmly when he made no attempt to either bow or acknowledge their arrival. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been formally introduced to my niece Miss Linley, though I’m sure she will be familiar to you. You share many acquaintances in society. Julia, this is Mister Niclas Seymour, cousin to Earl Graymar, whom you know well.”
    It was perfectly clear by his expression that she wasn’t familiar to him at all. With her heart in her mouth, Julia curtsied and murmured, “Mister Seymour.”
    He said nothing, but stared at her in an openly confounded manner for a long, silent moment before at last making her a very awkward bow. Straightening, he took up staring again, first at Julia, then at Lady Eunice, then at Julia. Still he said nothing.
    Julia and her aunt exchanged looks, then moved together a bit farther into the room.
    “You are very kind to visit,” her ladyship said politely, if not with actual pleasure. “Won’t you please make yourself comfortable while I ring for tea?”
    “I’ll stand,” he said stiffly, adding, as an afterthought, “Thank you. You ladies please . . . sit and be comfortable.” He waved a hand to indicate the nearby chairs.
    Julia and her aunt exchanged looks again. Their guest appeared to be confused about whose house he was in, and whose duty it was to invite anyone to sit.
    Lady Eunice was renowned as a hostess in London, but she was also famous as a stickler for propriety. Julia divined what her aunt was going to say and, before her ladyship could utter a syllable that she would surely later regret, took her by the arm and guided Lady Eunice toward a favorite chair. “Yes, do sit and be comfortable, Aunt. I’ll ring for tea. Excuse me a moment.”
    As she walked across the room to the bellpull, she