Web of Love by Mary Balogh Page A

to her knees. All hard masculine muscularity. She felt suffocated by his cologne, mesmerized by his green eyes, only inches from her own.
    She felt herself blush hotly.
    â€œSo sorry. Clumsy of me!” a genial giant called over his shoulder as he maneuvered his partner into the throng of dancers again.
    Lord Eden set firm hands on her shoulders as he stepped back from her. “How careless of me not to foresee that,” he said. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”
    â€œNot at all,” she said, brushing her hands over her skirt and smiling at his chin. “Please forgive me.”
    â€œFor allowing yourself to be tossed by an ox?” he said. “I would be tempted to slap my glove in his face if he did not look as if he were enjoying himself so vastly. Oh, dear, it has happened again to another unfortunate couple. I shall be sure to keep half a ballroom between him and us for the rest of the set, ma’am, I do assure you.”
    She laughed and placed her left hand on his shoulder again. “Perhaps instead of challenging him to a duel, you should hang bells around his neck, my lord,” she said, “so that everyone will know that he is coming.”
    He felt uncomfortable. How unforgivably clumsy of him to have allowed her such embarrassment. He forced himself to laugh back. “And I thought you did not have a malicious bone in your body, Mrs. Simpson,” he said. “For shame, ma’am.”
    She found it very hard to look up into his eyes. He suddenly seemed very large indeed, and very close to her. She felt more breathless than the exercise of dancing would account for. How unspeakably embarrassing!
    Would the music never end?
    They smiled and talked on.
    Â 
    T HE C OUNTESS OF A MBERLEY was drawing a brush absently through her hair and regarding her husband in the mirror. He was standing beside her stool, his arms folded.
    â€œDo you think Madeline will marry Colonel Huxtable?” she asked. “He seems a very pleasant man, don’t you think, although she has known him for only a few weeks.”
    â€œI suppose he will have to make her an offer before the question becomes relevant,” the earl said, taking one of her curls between his finger and thumb.
    â€œOf course he will make her an offer,” she said, smiling at him. “Doesn’t everyone?”
    â€œThen I would have to guess that she will say no,” he said. “Doesn’t she say that to everyone?”
    She sighed. “Perhaps she is looking too hard for love,” she said. “Perhaps she would grow into love if she would only give herself a chance to get to know some eligible gentleman.”
    â€œLike we did?” he said.
    â€œYes,” she agreed, “like we did. We had no thought of loving each other when we became betrothed, did we?”
    â€œOh,” he said, “I had every thought of loving you, Alex. The betrothal might have been largely forced upon me, but I had every intention when I contracted it of coming to love you. And it did not take long.”
    She reached back and touched his hand with her free one. “Dominic likes Miss Simpson,” she said. “She is very sweet. I like her. But is she a little young for him, Edmund?”
    â€œThere are eight years between you and me,” he said. “Are you too young for me?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “I did not mean just in years. Oh, never mind. They have only recently met. Edmund, do you know what that horrid Maisie Hardcastle told me?”
    â€œCan’t imagine,” he said, lowering his head and nuzzling her earlobe. “Some shocking scandal, doubtless.”
    â€œI gave her no encouragement whatsoever,” she said, “and tried my best not even to listen. But she would insist that it was her duty to tell me so that I might protect Madeline’s reputation.”
    The earl snorted. “Did she, indeed?” he said. “Are you ready for bed,