The Incomparable Miss Compton Read Online Free PDF

still on his arm, her pulse pounding in her ears, she let him lead her out onto the floor.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Malcolm watched the woman on his arm with a mixture of annoyance and amusement as they formed part of a set for a country line dance. As blatant as she had been, he should have depressed her notions immediately. Yet something about her intrigued him. For one thing, she was considerably older than most of the ladies who had sought his interest. While her dark blue dress with its modest neck was neither fast nor fashionable, he wondered fleetingly whether she might be a doxy. She had the curves to put a French courtesan to shame. Yet surely Anne Prestwick would never allow anyone less than a lady to enter her ballroom. No, there must be some other explanation.
    She looked a bit embarrassed by his scrutiny as she took her place across from him, her porcelain complexion tinted a charming pink. She kept her head high as if to deny her embarrassment, but as he took her hands to start the dance, he found that they trembled in his grip. Others would have hastened to set her at ease, but he was too used to putting his enemies in their places, he supposed, to let her off easily. Accordingly, he said nothing as they moved through the figure of the dance, even when the motions brought them close enough that conversation might be expected. She likewise said nothing for the first few turns, giving him ample opportunity to look his fill.
    What he saw only intrigued him all the more. She was a tall woman, standing almost eye to eye with him, yet her hands were small and delicate. Her hair was the color of honey and just as thick. It was knotted at the back of her head to allow a tantalizing curl to hang over one shoulder.
    As they crossed the set, his gaze held hers. With surprise, he found it impossible to tell the color of her eyes. It was very much like looking in some crystal ball -- gray, blue, and green swirled in various shades in equal measure, pulling him into the depths. As he was forced to break the spell, he noticed that her eyes tended to tilt up at the outside corners, enhancing the impression that there was something mysterious about them. Otherwise, she had a pleasant face, cheeks rounded and lips generous. She carried herself well, even under the present circumstances, as if sustained by some inner strength. He caught her gazing back at him again and wondered what she saw.
    He had never considered himself handsome, but he was aware he was considered striking. He was also aware he was fully capable of intimidating people. That would have been a curse to many, but he had found the trait useful. Still, it didn’t seem to be helping him learn the reason this woman had brazened her way into a dance with him. He could not see her as the conniving debutant. He took her hands again for a promenade and surreptitiously squeezed the left hand. He could feel no ring beneath the silk of her long gloves; certainly none was visible outside. She was unmarried then, and not a wife seeking support for a law her husband wanted to enact. He’d met those types before as well. Could she be someone’s sister or cousin then?
    He decided to give her his best smile in hopes of fostering conspiracy, but she only gave him back the tightest of responses, her pink lips barely curling. The dance parted them for a moment, and he found himself losing patience. It seemed after her initial bout of bravery that she was as timid as the others who had attempted to attract his interest that night.
    “You have nothing to say to me, then, madam?“ he demanded as the dance once more sent them past each other, shoulder to shoulder. As she took her place opposite him, her expressive eyes widened at his gruff tone. He waited for her to pretend he had actually asked her to dance, to say anything that would give him some idea of her game. She merely allowed the gentleman of the second couple in their set to take her hand and lead her out, as the dance