The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) by Christine Donovan Page A

speak their minds.” William grinned at
Sebastian, showing he did not take the insult to heart. Then he bowed courteously.
     “If you gentlemen will excuse me, there is someone I wish to
speak with.”
    He pivoted around, paused, and turned back. “Wentworth, would you be
kind enough to formally introduce me to your sister?” William had almost
forgotten he could not traipse across the room and engage Amelia in
conversation without a formal introduction. While he waited for Wentworth to
speak, his breath suspended in his throat.
    “Indeed,” Wentworth replied. “Come with me. I’ll also introduce you to
my wife—and both my sisters.”
    William followed Wentworth across the ballroom, ignoring the stares and
whispers meant to torment him. People could say what they wanted; he did not
have plans to run back to Dover anytime soon. Also, as an earl, he deserved the
respect due anyone of his station. He made a conscious decision not to hide
anymore or feel sorry for himself. He’d continue to miss his brother and his
brother’s wife, but no matter what people thought, he now realized he deserved
a life––and a happy one. He sensed only one person could make him happy and
he’d followed her here, to God-forsaken London in the height of the Season.
    “Lord Bridgeton,” Wentworth began once they reached the three ladies,
stepping up beside the woman who, he assumed, from the affection in her eyes,
must be his wife. “May I introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Wentworth?”
    “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” William said
as he bowed over the hand she proffered.
    “The honor is mine, Lord Bridgeton. I believe my husband mentioned
you’re our neighbor in the country?” Her Grace’s American accent was charming.
The smile she gave William appeared genuine, and her sparkling, blue eyes
didn’t miss a thing.
    “Yes, we’re neighbors. When next you are in residence, I hope you’ll
call on me for tea.”
    “Thank you, I’d enjoy that immensely,” the young and beautiful duchess
replied.
    “Lady Amelia, Lady Isabella,” Wentworth continued the introductions,
gesturing to each in turn. “May I present Lord Bridgeton?”
    The blonde, Lady Isabella, spoke up first. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you, Lord Bridgeton.” She curtsied, smiled, and offered her white-gloved hand.
    Taking it, he brought it briefly to his lips and bowed. “The pleasure
is all mine, Lady Isabella.”
    He turned and met Amelia’s soft brown eyes, took the hand she extended
to his lips, and bowed. “Lady Amelia, it is an honor to make your acquaintance
at last.”
    She curtsied daintily, full of grace as usual “Likewise, my lord.”
    “Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Lady Amelia?” He turned
to Wentworth. “Do I have your permission to dance with Lady Amelia?”
    Did William hear incorrectly, or did Wentworth growl? The duchess
placed a warning hand on her husband’s arm and squeezed, causing Wentworth to
wince. “Very well, you have my permission to dance with my sister.”
    Amelia bowed and mouthed a silent Thank you to her brother. She
placed her hand on William’s forearm. As they walked onto the dance floor,
every eye in the room rested upon them. And the rumbling whispers were
deafening. William could just imagine the things being said. What is that
murderer doing in this very ballroom? The nerve of him, showing his face in
polite Society after killing both his brother and his brother’s loving wife.
Has the duke finally gone mad, like his father before him, to allow such a
creature to dance with his sister?
    And there were others, not so hurtful. How nice to see the earl back
in London getting on with his life––such tragedy to befall one good family.
What a lovely couple he and Lady Amelia make. He could dream, could he not?
    Somehow the orchestra read William’s mind and began to play a waltz. He
almost didn’t trust himself to touch Amelia as he led her to an open spot