by Anne Barton
She could hardly believe how nicely the pieces of her life were falling into place.
A shadow slanted across the teacup in her lap, and she looked up. A torso clad in a finely tailored dark blue waistcoat appeared, precisely at eye level.
“Miss Honeycote, might I have a word?”
Daphne blinked, tilted her head back, and directed her gaze to the face above the snowy white neckcloth. What Lord Foxburn lacked in manners he certainly made up for in good looks. His tanned skin set off his startlingly blue eyes. The fine lines at their corners seemed to have resulted not from smiling, but rather from glaring, if his current expression was any indication. Although his mouth curved down at the corners, his lips were full. She was quite sure that his genuine smile—should she ever see it—would be dangerously charming.
His light brown hair curled, softening the angles of his cheekbones and nose, but it was his eyes that left her slightly breathless and off balance. Turbulent as a churning sea, they harbored a storm of accusation, curiosity, determination, and perhaps a glimmer of hope. And that was only on the surface. She could not imagine what else lurked below, and the mere thought of exploring their depths made her skin tingle like—
Lord Foxburn cleared his throat.
She started, and her tea sloshed, forming a moat in the saucer. Hoping to remedy the small lapse in etiquette—what was it the earl had just asked her?—she smiled apologetically. “How clumsy of me.” Heat crawled up her neck, probably producing more than could be considered a fetching blush. She waited for him to offer a gracious word, or at least smile back.
He did neither. Instead, he sighed as though he were already bored with their conversation. If, at this juncture, it could even properly be considered one.
Ah, well, the earl had returned from the battlefield not so long ago. One could understand how his manners might be out of practice. “Would you care to sit?”
“If you have no objection,” he said wryly.
“I’d be delighted.”
As he lowered himself to the settee, his lips drew into a thin line. He moved with the natural confidence of an athlete, but she’d detected a limp earlier. “Does your leg pain you?”
He narrowed his eyes. Yes, the lines reaching toward his temples were almost certainly due to this sort of squinting. An unflattering look for most men, but it rather suited him.
“A great many things pain me, Miss Honeycote.” His arched brow told her he wasn’t referring to physical ailments alone.
Well. Although sorely tempted, she would not retaliate in kind. “I am sorry to hear it.”
He studied her, no trace of remorse on his face. “I require a word with you, in private.”
Daphne glanced around the drawing room. The closest person was several yards away, and her curiosity was piqued. “I’m listening.”
The earl pinched the bridge of his nose. He was perhaps the most impatient person Daphne had ever met. “The matter I wish to discuss is of a delicate nature. I think it would be best to arrange a meeting for tomorrow.”
“I confess I’ve never had such an odd or intriguing request.” She’d received her fair share of improper advances from men, but Lord Foxburn didn’t seem the type of man to force his attentions on a woman. With his striking good looks, Daphne was quite sure he wouldn’t have to.
Perhaps he wanted to share some information about Lord Biltmore. The young viscount had mentioned that Lord Foxburn had been his brother’s closest friend and that, after his death, the earl had helped him adjust to his new role. But what did that have to do with her?
“I realize this must seem forward. However, I think you’ll appreciate the need for discretion once the topic of our discussion becomes clear. May I call on you tomorrow?”
Daphne pretended to regard him thoughtfully for several moments, in order to give the impression that a fierce debate raged inside her. In truth, she was much too curious to say no.
“I’m staying here, with my sister, while our mother is in Bath.”
Concern flicked across his face. So, he wasn’t as unfeeling as he’d like people to think. “Taking the waters?”
“No, Mama’s surprisingly healthy. But she’s not accustomed to the parade of parties and social engagements. I think she just wished to escape it all.”
“Your mother’s a wise woman.” The earl rose and inclined his head in a manner that could be perceived as either polite or mocking. “Until tomorrow, Miss Honeycote.”
Before she could ask one of the twenty questions swirling through her mind, Lord Foxburn walked away. For someone with an injured leg, he made an amazingly hasty departure. How vexing. And unpardonably rude to leave without giving some hint of what he wanted to discuss, some clue as to why he insisted on secrecy.
If he was toying with her, she did not care for the game. His brooding, cynical air might intimidate some, but a girl from St. Giles didn’t survive long if she was the cowering type.
She’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.
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* * *
A PORTRAIT OF A LADY
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DARING ESCAPE
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
An Excerpt from When She Was Wicked
An Excerpt from Once She Was Tempted
Also by Anne Barton
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Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Anne Barton
Excerpt from When She Was Wicked copyright © 2013 by Anne Barton
Excerpt from Once She Was Tempted copyright © 2013 by Anne Barton
Cover design by Diane Luger. Cover illustration by Chris Corcozza. Cover hand lettering by Ron Zinn.
Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-4934-4
