Two Turtledoves Read Online Free PDF Page A

Not now.
    She should have insisted they meet ahead of time.
Become reacquainted. Made certain the betrothal was right. Instead
she had been so enamored with the idea of Baldwyn as her husband,
it had never occurred to her that he would feel differently about
it. And now it was too late.
    Certainly, Anastasia could break the engagement. But
it would not do well for her family name, and as such, she could
not seriously consider the possibility. She would simply have to
make the best of the disappointing situation. Perhaps if she could
make him see her as something other than the little girl who had
pelted him and his horse with mud balls.
    Perhaps then he would be content with her.
    All this she thought as Baldwyn led her around the
room in the dance. She didn't dare to meet his gaze, but it seemed
he wasn't making much of an effort to cast it her way either. A few
well-timed sidelong glances told her that. When they switched
partners, Baldwyn would smile and engage in pleasantries with the
girl with whom he was dancing. When they came back together, he
fell into a dark, brooding silence. It was almost unbearable.
    When the dance ended, Baldwyn offered her his arm and
escorted her back to the refreshment table, finally breaking the
stiff silence between them.
    "Care for something to cool to drink?" he offered, a
hint of spite dancing in his blue eyes.
    "I believe I would," she said, trying to muster up
her sweetest smile. He seemed not to take any notice. Instead he
handed her a glass of lemonade and offered his arm one more
time.
    "Shall we take some cold winter air?" When he put it
that way, it didn't sound nearly as romantic as she had imagined it
would be. But why start now? If nothing else, perhaps he would
offer an apology for his brutal treatment of her earlier, so she
hooked a gloved hand around his proffered elbow and allowed him to
lead her through the ballroom doors onto the terrace.
     
    ****
     
    The situation was increasingly complicated. Why
hadn't he simply refused his grandmother's invitation back to
London? Even as the question entered his mind, he knew it would
have been already too late. The dowager had made the betrothal
contract weeks ago. She just hadn't bothered to tell him until that
day.
    The girl had known longer than he had.
    Baldwyn glanced down at her beside him. Perhaps girl was no longer an appropriate term. She was every inch
the woman and nothing he had expected her to be. Her mousy brown
hair had metamorphosized into rich chestnut waves. Her formerly
straight frame had transformed as well into something he could only
describe as desirable. It might not be so bad waking to find her in
his bed every morning.
    He shook his head to dispel the thought. The
arrangement was his grandmother's doing. And Baldwyn wanted no part
in it.
    Glancing at her again, he noted she had crossed her
arms over her chest and hugged them close to herself. Her face
angled away from him toward the floor and the far side of the
terrace. It was rather chilly to be out in the open air without a
wrap.
    Baldwyn slipped off his coat in one fluid motion and
draped it over her shoulders.
    She offered him a weak smile and muttered, "Thank
you." But her gaze returned to the ground immediately. Perhaps it
wasn't just the cold bothering her.
    He wished he could recall exactly what he had said
earlier when his head still spun with Montmouth's brandy. He had
consumed far too much with Benedict, hoping to deaden his sense of
what he would have to endure that night. Montmouth was right. Blast
him. He should have left well enough alone. Too much brandy, and as
his head was beginning to clear, he had only a faint sense that he
should perhaps apologize. For what, he wasn't certain.
    Clearing his throat, he turned to face her, intending
to string some sort of regret together and ask her forgiveness for
whatever it was he had done. Not that he believed he hadn't
committed the offense, he simply couldn't remember what it was.
    At the sound of