A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) by Diane Davis White Page A
Authors: Diane Davis White
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it Griffin or his cousin Rothburn that she wanted to keep off-balance?
For the life of her, Alana could not make a decision. The object of her reflections came to sit beside her at that moment and her heart skipped a beat, her palms suddenly damp while the warmth of a blush crept into her cheeks.
Mortified at her reaction to the earl, Lady Alana was a bit sharp in her response when he asked that she save him a dance. "If you get to my dance card in time, you will have a dance."
She then gave him with a troubled gaze, as if she were undecided.
In view of his rather pathetic frown, she relented. "Although I seldom see my dance card filled these days. I'm sure there will be a dance for you Rothburn. Let's make it a waltz. You do waltz beautifully, you know."
The infatuated earl brightened considerably at those words and endeavored to make himself agreeable to all present.
Sir Gordon watched the pair closely, satisfied that his friend—though determined to avoid matrimony—would be easily maneuvered into wedding his aunt.
As for Lady Eleanor, he would be available to give her comfort.
When Sir Gordon had danced with Lady Eleanor she'd shown a marked interest in his conversation. As well, she'd trembled at his touch when he'd taken her hand and pulled her close for the waltz.
He was sure it had not been his imagination. There was hope that he might pursue her, but first Rothburn had to be distracted. Hence his growing attachment to Alana would be met with compliance. If necessary, Sir Gordon was prepared to force his friend into matrimony on threat of alienation of affection.
Seeing his chance of happiness lay only with the woman he loved, Sir Gordon was prepared to do just about anything to bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.
Allie sat, spine stiff and shoulders held at a rigid angle, in the posture that was considered correct for ladies. Her head was nearly splitting from the effort of following the inane conversation going on around her. Not one whit of juicy gossip had she heard this past hour. Only dull stuff about Parliament, reform bills and such.
Spending time with her aunt unfortunately included such fare as this soirée for the intellectual ladies of the ton . Most disgustingly boring for a young miss whose greatest interests lay in romantic alliances and who was squiring whom to what ball.
She was sure her chances with Griffin might be spoiled should he discover that she had attended such an event as this.
The other night he had gone on for hours about how women should be led by their superior male counterparts . Then he'd shown a deal of disgust with what he termed as the bluestocking crows that had become popular of late in the drawing rooms of society. Allie wanted to keep the interest of her newfound love and had tried to beg off coming here, to no avail.
"Allie, are you ill?" Lady Alana asked. "Are you faint?"
Allie gazed at her with what she hoped was a pitiful stare, seeing her chance to cut short this horribly boring outing. "I feel a dreadful headache coming on. Do you think it would be terribly rude if I went home?"
"Better you go lie down for awhile Miss Pendleton." Her hostess, one Lady Cropham, was quick to intervene, not wanting to lose the company of Lady Alana—a staunch ally on many causes—and an interesting conversationalist into the bargain. "I'll have a maid show you the way."
Her voice brooked no argument and Allie had no choice but to assent.
As she followed the maid from the room, Allie noticed for the first time the presence of Lady Eleanor on the far side of the area, eagerly engaged in debate among a different group.
Imagine that! Lady Eleanor had never appeared to be an intellectual. Allie thought it most strange —her eager imagination darting here and there as possibilities arose from this discovery.
She followed the maid to an upstairs room and watched as the maid pulled the curtains, then drew back the Duvet. The silent maid did a quick curtsey and
For the life of her, Alana could not make a decision. The object of her reflections came to sit beside her at that moment and her heart skipped a beat, her palms suddenly damp while the warmth of a blush crept into her cheeks.
Mortified at her reaction to the earl, Lady Alana was a bit sharp in her response when he asked that she save him a dance. "If you get to my dance card in time, you will have a dance."
She then gave him with a troubled gaze, as if she were undecided.
In view of his rather pathetic frown, she relented. "Although I seldom see my dance card filled these days. I'm sure there will be a dance for you Rothburn. Let's make it a waltz. You do waltz beautifully, you know."
The infatuated earl brightened considerably at those words and endeavored to make himself agreeable to all present.
Sir Gordon watched the pair closely, satisfied that his friend—though determined to avoid matrimony—would be easily maneuvered into wedding his aunt.
As for Lady Eleanor, he would be available to give her comfort.
When Sir Gordon had danced with Lady Eleanor she'd shown a marked interest in his conversation. As well, she'd trembled at his touch when he'd taken her hand and pulled her close for the waltz.
He was sure it had not been his imagination. There was hope that he might pursue her, but first Rothburn had to be distracted. Hence his growing attachment to Alana would be met with compliance. If necessary, Sir Gordon was prepared to force his friend into matrimony on threat of alienation of affection.
Seeing his chance of happiness lay only with the woman he loved, Sir Gordon was prepared to do just about anything to bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.
Allie sat, spine stiff and shoulders held at a rigid angle, in the posture that was considered correct for ladies. Her head was nearly splitting from the effort of following the inane conversation going on around her. Not one whit of juicy gossip had she heard this past hour. Only dull stuff about Parliament, reform bills and such.
Spending time with her aunt unfortunately included such fare as this soirée for the intellectual ladies of the ton . Most disgustingly boring for a young miss whose greatest interests lay in romantic alliances and who was squiring whom to what ball.
She was sure her chances with Griffin might be spoiled should he discover that she had attended such an event as this.
The other night he had gone on for hours about how women should be led by their superior male counterparts . Then he'd shown a deal of disgust with what he termed as the bluestocking crows that had become popular of late in the drawing rooms of society. Allie wanted to keep the interest of her newfound love and had tried to beg off coming here, to no avail.
"Allie, are you ill?" Lady Alana asked. "Are you faint?"
Allie gazed at her with what she hoped was a pitiful stare, seeing her chance to cut short this horribly boring outing. "I feel a dreadful headache coming on. Do you think it would be terribly rude if I went home?"
"Better you go lie down for awhile Miss Pendleton." Her hostess, one Lady Cropham, was quick to intervene, not wanting to lose the company of Lady Alana—a staunch ally on many causes—and an interesting conversationalist into the bargain. "I'll have a maid show you the way."
Her voice brooked no argument and Allie had no choice but to assent.
As she followed the maid from the room, Allie noticed for the first time the presence of Lady Eleanor on the far side of the area, eagerly engaged in debate among a different group.
Imagine that! Lady Eleanor had never appeared to be an intellectual. Allie thought it most strange —her eager imagination darting here and there as possibilities arose from this discovery.
She followed the maid to an upstairs room and watched as the maid pulled the curtains, then drew back the Duvet. The silent maid did a quick curtsey and
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