“Since when have you been such an expert on the ton?”
Morwenna had met Robert in Cornwall, and they’d married after a whirlwind courtship. He’d left for the South Atlantic before he had a chance to introduce his wife to London society. “I’ll have you know that I was the belle of the Truro assemblies. This is just a larger, better dressed version. I can already see you’re going to make a sensation. Enjoy it.”
“I wish I was back talking about drainage with my steward,” she mumbled.
As Sally rolled her eyes, Anthony took her hand. “Courage, lass.”
She lifted her gaze to his and managed a smile. He towered over her. He towered over most people, and he’d never lost the bluff manners of his humble Yorkshire upbringing. But while he might look like a mountain, she’d long ago learned that he had a kind heart and a mind sharp enough to see past her grumbles to the sheer terror possessing her soul.
“Please promise you’ll dance with me again if nobody else does.”
The twitch of his mouth bolstered her failing courage. “I promise. And so will Brandon. Won’t you, my lad?”
Brandon, fair and beautiful like his mother, subjected Amy to a glance of unmistakable admiration. “Rather! Amy, you’re looking tiptop. All the fellows will be knocked for six.”
It was Fenella’s turn to roll her eyes. “Brandon, I despair of your expensive Cambridge education. You used to speak the King’s English.”
Anthony sent his wife a fond glance. “It’s nowt to worry about. He’s just bang up to date, my love.” He turned his attention back to Amy. “And I have to agree with him. You’re as bonny as they come. Now let me show you off.”
Amy let him lead her onto the floor. Fenella’s family really were so kind. She sucked in a breath to calm the nervous gallop of her heart. What did it matter what London thought when she had such loving friends?
As she lined up opposite Anthony, she noticed Brandon and Meg taking the floor together. Seconds later, Fenella, Morwenna and Sally found partners.
She’d spent her life afraid of the ton’s disparaging eye. But when she started to execute the steps—she’d spent the last month practicing dances she hadn’t attempted since adolescence—giddy excitement gripped her. Not strong enough to banish uncertainty, but heady nonetheless.
Here she was at the center of London society. She had beautiful new clothes and friends set on her enjoyment. Who knew what adventures the next few weeks might bring? At the very least, she’d have something to remember when she went back to counting heifers and weighing oats on her estate.
* * *
By the time she’d danced a minuet with Anthony and a quadrille with Brandon, Amy was almost comfortable in her new clothes. It still amazed her quite how much attention and effort went into preparing a woman to appear at a ball that merely lasted a few hours. If she took this much time to dress at Warrington Park, the estate would fall into ruin.
Gradually her choking fear receded. The people she spoke to were nice to her, and nobody pointed a finger in her direction and shrieked “imposter!” Which didn’t make her any less of an imposter in this glamorous milieu.
She even started to enjoy herself. The music was pretty; the dancing was fun once she stopped worrying about forgetting the steps; even a fashion ignoramus like her appreciated the beautiful clothing on display.
Best of all, Morwenna looked young and happy for the first time in nearly four years. And the men in the room showed the excellent taste to clamor to dance with her.
Nor did Sally lack for partners. She always spoke as if she was at her last prayers, but the gentlemen seemed as eager to dance with her as with her pretty niece Meg.
So when Mr. Harslett, a man with an interesting take on using turnips as pig feed, deposited Amy back with Fenella and Anthony after their dance, she could almost pretend to poise. So silly to be scared of something as trivial as a ball. At this rate, she might even survive her London season without carrying too many scars away.
Then all that frail confidence fizzled to nothing. Striding toward her was the man she’d spent a couple of wretched years dreaming about when she was a silly girl. He’d fueled her romantic fantasies, until she hit sixteen and decided that life was real and practical, and adolescent foolishness served no purpose.
Anthony greeted Pascal with unalloyed pleasure. “Grand to see you.”
“And you, Kenwick.” Lord Pascal bowed briefly to Fenella. “Lady Kenwick.”
“My lord,” Fenella said with a pretty curtsy.
“Will you please introduce me to your lovely companion?”
Lovely companion? Amy almost looked around to see who he meant, even as those blue eyes leveled on her with unmistakable intent.
“Amy, may I present Lord Pascal?” Fenella said, shooting him a speculative glance. “Pascal, this is Amy, Lady Mowbray, down from Leicestershire for the season.”
Automatically Amy extended her hand. When he took it in his and bowed, a strange current zapped through her as if she touched lightning. Bewildered, she told herself this was impossible, especially as they both wore gloves. But rational thought was elusive when such remarkable male beauty filled her view.
The hundreds of candles in the ballroom turned Lord Pascal to gold. Golden hair. Golden skin. Tall, perfectly proportioned body. Broad, straight shoulders. Narrow hips. Long legs. Cheekbones high and prominent. Lips so crisply cut that they could be sculpted from marble, if they weren’t so sensual.
Such spectacular masculinity would make Michelangelo weep.
“Delighted, Lady Mowbray.” His soft murmur set every nerve jangling with female awareness.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, shocked that the words emerged at all, let alone as steadily as they did.
With a spurt of relief, she realized that she wasn’t sixteen anymore. By God, she could handle society. She could handle anything life threw at her. Here was proof. While butterflies and grasshoppers performed a mad ballet in her stomach, she faced down the man who had once turned her tongue-tied.
Her smile broadened as she stared into Lord Pascal’s brilliant blue eyes. Dear heaven, that color was extraordinary, like a noon sky on a perfect summer day.
Those eyes warmed and turned predatory, and she realized her hand still rested in his. Ten years ago—good Lord, last week—she’d have jerked away, flustered and awkward. Not tonight. Tonight she remained where she was and let herself drown in those azure eyes.
“May I presume upon our new acquaintance and ask for this waltz?”
“I’m engaged with Sir Brandon.” With a flirtatiousness she’d never before attempted, she let her lashes flutter down. She didn’t mention that she and Pascal had met before, if years ago. Why revive memories of her clumsy younger self and spoil this chance to make an old dream come true?
Pascal didn’t even glance at Fenella’s son. “I’m sure he’ll yield to my greater need.”
“Greater need?” Amy slowly withdrew her hand.
“Sometimes a waltz can be a matter of life or death, my lady.”
Brandon turned away from Meg and smiled at Amy. “Shall we?”
He must have missed the quiet exchange between Amy and Pascal. She shivered with delight. His lordship’s nonsense seemed even more delicious when spoken privately in a public place.
“I’m claiming seniority,” Pascal said with a smile.
“That’s a dashed cheek,” Brandon said good-naturedly. “What’s a fellow to do instead?”
“He can dance with his dear sweet mother,” Fenella said, taking his arm and casting a laughing glance at Amy and Lord Pascal.
“Always happy to dance with you, Mamma,” Brandon said gallantly. “You’re still the prettiest woman in the room.”
“Are you sure, Brandon?” Amy asked, feeling bad for deserting him.
“That my mamma is a peach? I am indeed.” He didn’t sound like he minded too much missing out on partnering Amy.
“You’re a good lad,” Anthony said, clapp
ing his son on the shoulder.
“You have my thanks, Sir Brandon.” Pascal drew Amy toward the dance floor.
“Do I get any say in this?” she asked, with a breathless catch in her voice.
His arm slid around her waist, and he caught her hand in his, setting off another of those odd frissons. “Do you want to say no?”
He stared down at her as if he saw nobody else in this crowded ballroom. She had to work hard to summon a response. It really was the most extraordinary sensation, being this close to such physical splendor. Her girlhood self had been transfixed, but mostly at a distance. Now it turned out that grown-up Amy was even more susceptible to golden good looks and deep blue eyes. The music started, and for the first time, her steps fell into the rhythm without her conscious effort to count.
“Lady Mowbray?”
She reminded herself that she was no longer a naïve, impressionable ninnyhammer. She’d been married. She ran a great estate. Her appearance was modish in the extreme. She owed it to Sally to demonstrate a modicum of polish.
Instinct told her to play at reluctance. It was a game she’d seen enacted often, although she’d never before felt equipped to join in. But the answer that emerged was short and honest. “No.”
That striking face so far above hers—his perfect proportions hid quite how tall he was until you were right next to him—relaxed into a smile of masculine satisfaction. “That’s what I hoped.”
He swept her into a turn that left her dizzy. Yet feet that usually threatened to stumble kept her upright and moving.
Heat radiated everywhere they touched, and her heart raced with exertion and excitement. She could hardly believe it. Her first ball this season, and she danced with a man as close to a prince as any she was ever likely to meet.
Cinderella would be green with envy.
Find Pursuing Lord Pascal on Amazon.
Make sure you read all the novellas in the bestselling Dashing Widows series!
The Seduction of Lord Stone
Book 1 in the Dashing Widows series
* * *
For this reckless widow, love is the most dangerous game of all.
Caroline, Lady Beaumont, arrives in London seeking excitement after ten dreary years of marriage and an even drearier year of mourning. That means conquering society, dancing like there’s no tomorrow, and taking a lover to provide passion without promises. Promises, in this dashing widow’s dictionary, equal prison. So what is an adventurous lady to do when she loses her heart to a notorious rake who, for the first time in his life, wants forever?
Devilish Silas Nash, Viscount Stone is in love at last—with a beautiful, headstrong widow bent on playing the field. Worse, she’s enlisted his help to set her up with his disreputable best friend. No red-blooded man takes such a challenge lying down, and Silas schemes to seduce his darling into his arms, warm, willing and besotted. But will his passionate plots come undone against a woman determined to act the mistress, but never the wife?
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Tempting Mr. Townsend
Book 2 in the Dashing Widows series
* * *
Beauty…
Fenella, Lady Deerham, has rejoined society after five years of mourning her beloved husband’s death at Waterloo. Now she’s fêted as a diamond of the first water and London’s perfect lady. But beneath her exquisite exterior, this delicate blond beauty conceals depths of courage and passion nobody has ever suspected. When her son and his school friend go missing, she vows to find them whatever it takes. Including setting off alone in the middle of the night with high-handed bear of a man, Anthony Townsend. Will this tumultuous journey end in more tragedy? Or will the impetuous quest astonish this dashing widow with a breathtaking new love, and life with the last man she ever imagined?
And the Beast?
When Anthony Townsend bursts into Lady Deerham’s fashionable Mayfair mansion demanding the return of his orphaned nephew, the lovely widow’s beauty and spirit turn his world upside down. But surely such a refined and aristocratic creature will scorn a rough, self-made man’s courtship, even if that man is now one of the richest magnates in England. Especially after he’s made such a woeful first impression by barging into her house and accusing her of conniving with the runaways. But when Fenella insists on sharing the desperate search for the boys, fate offers Anthony a chance to play the hero and change her mind about him. Will reluctant proximity convince Fenella that perhaps Mr. Townsend isn’t so beastly after all? Or now that their charges are safe, will Anthony and Fenella remain forever opposites fighting their attraction?
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Winning Lord West
Book 3 in the Dashing Widows series
* * *
All rakes are the same! Except when they’re not…
Spirited Helena, Countess of Crewe, knows all about profligate rakes; she was married to one for nine years and still bears the scars. Now this Dashing Widow plans a life of glorious freedom where she does just what she wishes – and nobody will ever hurt her again. So what is she to do when that handsome scoundrel Lord West sets out to make her his wife? Say no, of course. Which is fine, until West focuses all his sensual skills on changing her mind. And West’s sensual skills are renowned far and wide as utterly irresistible…
Passionate persuasion!
Vernon Grange, Lord West, has long been estranged from his headstrong first love, Helena Nash, but he’s always regretted that he didn’t step in to prevent her disastrous marriage. Now Helena is free, and this time, come hell or high water, West won’t let her escape him again. His weapon of choice is seduction, and in this particular game, he’s an acknowledged master. Now that he and Helena are under one roof at the year’s most glamorous house party, he intends to counter her every argument with breathtaking pleasure. Could it be that Lady Crewe’s dashing days are numbered?
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And watch out for Catching Captain Nash, the sixth book in Anna Campbell’s Dashing Widows series, coming later in 2017.
* * *
About The Author
* * *
Australian Anna Campbell has written ten multi award-winning historical romances for Grand Central Publishing and Avon HarperCollins and 15 bestselling independently-published novellas. Anna has won numerous awards for her Regency-set stories including RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice, the Booksellers Best, the Golden Quill (three times), the Heart of Excellence (twice), the Write Touch, the Aspen Gold (twice) and the Australian Romance Readers Association’s favorite historical romance (five times).
Anna loves to hear from her readers. You can find her at:
Website: www.annacampbell.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AnnaCampbellFans
Twitter: Twitter.com/AnnaCampbelloz
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