The Perfect Waltz Read Online Free PDF

Directly at Hope. Not at her and her twin sister. Not around the room. Just at Hope. There was no subtlety about the look he gave her. It was a direct expression of desire. Desire for Hope.
    Unable to break the power of his gaze, Hope felt a long frisson of sensation pass through her whole body.
    Mrs. Jenner snapped, “Avert your gaze, if you please, my dears. That fellow is unsuited for a lady’s ballroom, let alone for a pair of beautiful unmarried girls.” She turned and bustled the girls away.
    Faith winked at her twin as they were shepherded to a small alcove with tall French windows leading out to the terrace, but Hope was in no state to wink back.
    That brief wordless exchange had shaken her like nothing else. He’d prowled the room like a man very certain of himself, of his place in the world, indifferent to those who surrounded him. But when he looked at Hope, she saw a kind of hunger in his eyes. A fierceness, a wanting. Directed solely at her.
    It touched a part of her she never knew existed. She wanted to walk back into the ballroom, to walk right up to him, to touch his hand. She wanted to look into his eyes again and hear his voice.
    Was this the thunderbolt she’d dreamed of? It couldn’t be. Fate would not be so cruel. She did not want a big, strong, tough-looking man, one who reminded her of her grandfather!
    They found seats. Hope was grateful to sit down. Her knees were shaking. Mrs. Jenner sent several of the hovering young men off to fetch them glasses of ratafia, then sent them to the right-about after they had fulfilled their mission. “Leave us be for a few moments, will you, gentlemen?” she ordered. “The girls and I need to catch our breath.” She flapped her hands at the young men who’d pressed forward to talk to them and shooed them away like a flock of inquisitive geese.
    From her seat in the alcove Hope watched. His height made his progress easy to follow. Mr. Bemerton greeted acquaintances here and there, introducing his friend, who uttered what appeared to be a scant greeting and then waited with an air of leashed impatience that was tangible, even from this distance.
    She’d seen a tiger in a cage once, newly arrived at The Royal Exchange, pacing back and forth with just that expression, lashing his tail impatiently, indifferent to the onlookers on the outside.
    Frowning, he made some comment to Mr. Bemerton, who flung back his head and laughed. The tigerish look faded, leaving an expression of ironic humor on his face. He was younger than she’d thought at first. About the same age as Giles Bemerton, she decided; not yet thirty. Odd how he’d seemed older at first, as if weighed down by something.
    An interesting friendship, thought Hope. She didn’t know Mr. Bemerton very well, but he’d always seemed a lighthearted type, an entertaining rattle, as Mrs. Jenner would put it, and somewhat of a rake. She hadn’t imagined he could be on terms of friendship with someone so grim and intense-looking.
    As they sipped their drinks, Hope remarked in a casual tone, “Mrs. Jenner, you must explain. Who is he? I confess I’m curious. He looks out of place in this company, but does he care? Not he!”
    Mrs. Jenner sniffed, hesitated, then pronounced with genteel scorn, “He is a Mushroom.”
    Hope giggled at the image of a mushroom dressed in evening clothes. “A rather large mushroom, don’t you think? He must be six feet tall.”
    “Pshaw! You know what I mean—he is a parvenu, an interloper, a thrusting social climber! More, he is a Person Not Fit for a lady’s drawing room. Giles Bemerton needs a good whipping—poor boy! That devil must have a hold over him. There is no other explanation. Giles’s mother is everything that is good ton.”
    “Really?” breathed Faith, entranced. “You cannot mean he has blackmailed Mr. Bemerton into taking him around and introducing him?”
    Mrs. Jenner shrugged pettishly. “As to that, how should I know the sordid details? But it will