The Scandal in Kissing an Heir Read Online Free PDF

would keep her mind focused and think of what Brekenbridge had promised with his gaze. She could be happy with him, of that she was certain. And yet, when Mr. Neville swept her into his arms, to a waltz, no less, she feared she might be doomed. Oh, she’d found him charming and attractive before, but with his hand resting against her waist she was finding it alarmingly difficult to form a coherent thought.
    “The viscount seemed very taken with you,” Mr. Neville said as he spun her in a wide circle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wording his proposal as we speak.”
    One can only hope.
    “It was badly done of you to interfere like that,” she said, deciding to give him a set down and hoping that being stern with him would stop her from wondering what it might be like to kiss him. Turning her head away from him, she determined to watch the other dancers. She would not look at Mr. Neville’s lips. No, only disaster lay in that direction.
    “I take it you desire his advances then?” There was an edge of flint to his tone as his hold on her tightened.
    “He is a fine gentleman, and from what I’ve seen, he’s also kind. I believe he will treat me well. A lady could do far worse.” She turned her head back toward him, daring herself to meet his gaze in a pointed look. Thank heavens she was as good an actress as she was or she would probably have burst into flames in response to the look he was giving her in return. There was nothing polite about it. Indeed, it was a possessive look with the promise of wicked, forbidden pleasures—the sort of look that Rebecca imagined to be reserved for widows and the demimonde. It certainly wasn’t the way a respectable gentleman ought to be looking at an innocent young lady, and to Rebecca’s horror, she found herself responding to it in a most unwelcome way, feeling things in places that weren’t at all proper. She cursed herself for looking at him. It had been a mistake.
    “How well do you know him?” Mr. Neville asked.
    “Well enough,” she replied, only too eager to end this topic of discussion.
    Mr. Neville held quiet a moment, then said, “You’ve only just met him, haven’t you?”
    “No, of course not. I mean, to consider marriage from someone I’ve only shared one dance with—why, that would be ridiculous.”
    “Is that so? Then pray tell, what is his name?”
    Rebecca glanced up just enough to see the corner of his mouth edge upward into a smile—a cheeky smile.
    “Well, that’s easy enough. It’s Brekenbridge.”
    A chuckle escaped Mr. Neville’s lips. “Nice try, Lady Nuit, but I was referring to his Christian name. If you’ve known him long enough to consider marrying him, then surely you must have discovered what it is.”
    Ugh! He had her there. Not one to give up so easily, she spoke the first name that came to mind. “Daniel.”
    Mr. Neville’s eyebrows snapped together, and for a split second he looked at her rather queerly. He then smiled. “A lady to my liking—one who enjoys a good gamble even when the chance of winning is close to impossible.” Lowering his head, he whispered close to her ear, “His name is Thomas Brinkly.”
    “Very well,” she said, shaking off the shivers that had run down her spine as he’d spoken, “so we still have much to learn about each other, but that doesn’t mean we won’t suit. On the contrary, it promises to be a typical Society courtship, followed by a typical Society wedding.”
    Mr. Neville raised an eyebrow. “And yet you don’t strike me as a typical Society lady. Quite the opposite.”
    The music drew to a close, preventing Rebecca from telling him that he had no business passing judgment. She’d never considered herself the sort of woman who would marry for any reason other than love, which made what she now planned on doing so much more ironic. But then again, this was about winning her freedom, limited as it might be as the wife of a peer.
    “Come, walk with me,” Mr. Neville