would fall upon her
within seconds. In spite of the crowd, her unfashionable height
unfortunately made her easy to spot. With her heart pounding hard
enough to bruise her ribs, she started to turn away, her every
instinct intent upon escape. A gloved hand grasped her upper arm,
stilling her.
“ Heavens, who is that
utterly divine man?”
Sophia tried to shake loose of Christine
Archer, Viscountess Handley’s, hold, but her best friend’s
tenacious grip tightened. As Christine was staring toward the
archway across the room, Sophia didn’t question to which “utterly
divine man” Christine referred.
“ I...I must go.” Sophia
pulled her arm free and desperately looked for the nearest exit.
Her gaze lit upon the French windows leading to the terrace and she
quickly stepped in that direction. But her hopes for a fast escape
were thwarted by the seemingly endless wall of revelers standing
between her and freedom.
“ Sophia, are you all
right?” asked Christine. She stepped directly in front of Sophia
and her expression immediately turned to one of deep concern.
“Darling, you’re pale as wax. You look as if you’ve seen a
ghost.”
I have . In the form of a man she never thought she’d see again. One
she’d hoped never to see again. A ghost from her past she’d been
trying desperately to forget, lest it cost her everything. And
right now that past stood terrifyingly close. If the truth were to
come out--
She ruthlessly cut off the thought, and
keeping her back toward the man on the opposite side of the room,
she offered Christine what she hoped passed for a sheepish
expression. “Too much champagne, I’m afraid,” she lied, praying her
very observant friend wouldn’t recall she’d imbibed nothing
stronger than lemonade. “I’ve the most dreadful headache and simply
cannot stand the noise and this crush.”
Christine’s gaze turned sympathetic. “A good
night’s sleep is what you need. Although I hate that you’re
leaving, especially since that luscious stranger just appeared in
the doorway. I’ve no idea who he is, but I intend to find out.”
Dread rippled down Sophia’s spine. “Your
husband would surely object to such fascination in another
man.”
Christine laughed.
“Darling, I’m married--not dead. There is no sin in merely
looking.” Her gaze shifted over Sophia’s shoulder and a mischievous
grin curved her lips. “Although I’d wager that man knows a great
deal about sin.” She returned her attention to Sophia. “I’m certain
my Henry would object to my fascination--if that fascination was purely on
my behalf. However, it is you I’m thinking of, Sophia. You need
something--or some one --to lift your spirits.” Christine reached out and gently
squeezed Sophia’s hands. “It’s been nearly three years since
Robert’s death. It’s time to stop mourning. Time to live
again.”
An image of her deceased husband’s face, his
warm brown eyes sparkling with humor flashed through Sophia’s mind,
a mental picture that was instantly replaced by one of intense dark
blue eyes that seemed to burn a whole through her skin.
“ I’m fine,” she said, her
battle to remain calm rapidly slipping away. “I’ll start living
again tomorrow--after a good night’s sleep to rid me of this
headache.” She slipped her hands from Christine’s and with her head
down and knees bent to minimize her height, she began weaving her
way through the throng toward the French windows.
“ I’ll hold you to that
promise,” Christine called after her. “Expect me to call upon you
tomorrow afternoon.”
Sophia nodded without turning around and
focused on fleeing. When she reached the French windows, she
grasped the curved brass handle and opened the paned glass panel
just enough to slip outside. A gust of unseasonably chilly air,
heavy with the threat of rain, swirled around her, pebbling her
skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Heart pounding, she
anxiously peered back into the
within seconds. In spite of the crowd, her unfashionable height
unfortunately made her easy to spot. With her heart pounding hard
enough to bruise her ribs, she started to turn away, her every
instinct intent upon escape. A gloved hand grasped her upper arm,
stilling her.
“ Heavens, who is that
utterly divine man?”
Sophia tried to shake loose of Christine
Archer, Viscountess Handley’s, hold, but her best friend’s
tenacious grip tightened. As Christine was staring toward the
archway across the room, Sophia didn’t question to which “utterly
divine man” Christine referred.
“ I...I must go.” Sophia
pulled her arm free and desperately looked for the nearest exit.
Her gaze lit upon the French windows leading to the terrace and she
quickly stepped in that direction. But her hopes for a fast escape
were thwarted by the seemingly endless wall of revelers standing
between her and freedom.
“ Sophia, are you all
right?” asked Christine. She stepped directly in front of Sophia
and her expression immediately turned to one of deep concern.
“Darling, you’re pale as wax. You look as if you’ve seen a
ghost.”
I have . In the form of a man she never thought she’d see again. One
she’d hoped never to see again. A ghost from her past she’d been
trying desperately to forget, lest it cost her everything. And
right now that past stood terrifyingly close. If the truth were to
come out--
She ruthlessly cut off the thought, and
keeping her back toward the man on the opposite side of the room,
she offered Christine what she hoped passed for a sheepish
expression. “Too much champagne, I’m afraid,” she lied, praying her
very observant friend wouldn’t recall she’d imbibed nothing
stronger than lemonade. “I’ve the most dreadful headache and simply
cannot stand the noise and this crush.”
Christine’s gaze turned sympathetic. “A good
night’s sleep is what you need. Although I hate that you’re
leaving, especially since that luscious stranger just appeared in
the doorway. I’ve no idea who he is, but I intend to find out.”
Dread rippled down Sophia’s spine. “Your
husband would surely object to such fascination in another
man.”
Christine laughed.
“Darling, I’m married--not dead. There is no sin in merely
looking.” Her gaze shifted over Sophia’s shoulder and a mischievous
grin curved her lips. “Although I’d wager that man knows a great
deal about sin.” She returned her attention to Sophia. “I’m certain
my Henry would object to my fascination--if that fascination was purely on
my behalf. However, it is you I’m thinking of, Sophia. You need
something--or some one --to lift your spirits.” Christine reached out and gently
squeezed Sophia’s hands. “It’s been nearly three years since
Robert’s death. It’s time to stop mourning. Time to live
again.”
An image of her deceased husband’s face, his
warm brown eyes sparkling with humor flashed through Sophia’s mind,
a mental picture that was instantly replaced by one of intense dark
blue eyes that seemed to burn a whole through her skin.
“ I’m fine,” she said, her
battle to remain calm rapidly slipping away. “I’ll start living
again tomorrow--after a good night’s sleep to rid me of this
headache.” She slipped her hands from Christine’s and with her head
down and knees bent to minimize her height, she began weaving her
way through the throng toward the French windows.
“ I’ll hold you to that
promise,” Christine called after her. “Expect me to call upon you
tomorrow afternoon.”
Sophia nodded without turning around and
focused on fleeing. When she reached the French windows, she
grasped the curved brass handle and opened the paned glass panel
just enough to slip outside. A gust of unseasonably chilly air,
heavy with the threat of rain, swirled around her, pebbling her
skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Heart pounding, she
anxiously peered back into the
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