Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. by Gayle Buck

boasted only a touch of white lace. A gold chain and locket around her slender neck were her only ornaments.
    “I shouldn’t think a diplomat could be at all stupid,” said Miss Holland in a soft hesitant voice. She glanced up at him, a half-scared, half-speculative expression in her eyes.
    Sir Frederick was satisfied. He had at last cracked through whatever was imprisoning the young woman’s spirit. “Ah, but you would be surprised, Miss Holland,” he said lightly. Thereafter he addressed such remarks as were calculated to put a very self-conscious miss at ease. By the time the country-dance came to an end, Miss Holland behaved almost as naturally as any other young lady in the ballroom. She had lost her woodenness and all of her movements were gracefully executed.
    “Would you like to go to the refreshment room for an ice or shall I escort you back to your mother?” asked Sir Frederick. Instantly he regretted the question, for all animation fled from Miss Holland’s face.
    Her eyes cast down, she murmured, “Oh, I must return at once to Mama.”
    “Of course,” said Sir Frederick politely. He walked as slowly as he dared, speaking pleasantly on this and that. Once or twice, Miss Holland’s eyes rose to his face but just as quickly sank again. Her small gloved hand lay limply on his arm, and she did not remark at all on anything that he said. Sir Frederick noted that though she gave little indication of enjoying his conversation, she did not seem averse to remaining in his company, for her pace was just as lagging as his own.
    When at last they returned, it was to find Mrs. Holland’s cushioned chair vacant and only the earl waiting for them. His lordship looked keenly at his sister’s apprehensive face. With a wonderfully casual air, he said, “Mama is enjoying a mild flirtation with an old beau. I assured her that I would look after you, Guin.”
    Miss Holland’s countenance lightened at once. “Thank you, Percy.” She turned to Sir Frederick and demurely held out her hand. Her eyes met his steadily, though with a hint of timidity in their depths. “And thank you, Sir Frederick. I have never enjoyed a dance more.”
    Sir Frederick was astonished. Miss Holland spoke with perfect sincerity and without even the hint of a stammer. He took her hand for a short moment, studying her beautiful countenance. She was an enigma to him and therefore of interest. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Holland. I shall look forward to our next meeting.”
    A blush stole into Miss Holland’s face, and a shy smile touched her naturally pink cupid’s bow lips. The thought flitted into Sir Frederick’s mind that Miss Holland had a very kissable mouth. He was startled. What maggot had got into his brain that such an extraordinary thing should leap to life about this insignificant little creature?
    His expression showing nothing of what was passing through his mind, Sir Frederick bowed to the lady. He said a polite word or two to the young Earl of Holybrooke and sauntered away. He did not see how Miss Holland’s eyes rose to follow him, the glow of gratitude in their brilliant blue depths.
    Sir Frederick danced several more times, accomplishing his duty with graceful ease. When at last he was satisfied that he had fulfilled his obligation as a dutiful guest, he sought out Mrs. Richardson. He had a small score to pay off, he thought with a hint of mischief in his grin.
    He found the lady standing beside a well-breeched gentleman, whom Sir Frederick nodded to with a casual air. “Hello, Richard, old fellow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “Oh, did Caroline tell you that I was off on a medical call? Fortunately, it was a small matter, so I was able to come and lend support to my wife after all,” said Richard Richardson cheerfully, exchanging a hearty handshake with Sir Frederick. He wore his ball dress with careless ease, as though he set no great store by his appearance. Indeed, the gentleman’s time was taken up with