Lady of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle Page A

“Allow me to escort you to your brother, Lady Caroline. Before I altogether fall on my knee and ask you to marry me.”
    Hoping to God he was joking, she placed her gloved hand on his forearm as was custom. “You had best not bruise that knee for me. Stay standing. Please.”
    Another laugh escaped him. “My knees are a lot stronger than they appear.”
    That sounded like an invitation. Why would a well-respectable gentleman like him with children take an interest in someone like her? It was astounding. Didn’t he know what people said about her family? He had to.
    They walked through the crowds and back toward her brother.
    Lord Gifford glanced at her several times as they walked.
    She tried to ignore the fact that people were glancing toward them and some were even whispering things behind fans.
    Her throat tightened. Now she felt bad. Because she didn’t want to tarnish his good name. Lowering her voice she said, “Maybe you should forgo the waltz. It isn’t good for you to be seen with me.”
    He set a quick gloved hand against hers, squeezing it and countered, “I’m not worried what people think. In fact, you deserve to be held in a better light than you are. And I mean to mean to showcase it. So let me.”
    Her lips parted. It would appear she had been wrong about certain people of the ton . It appeared some of them could step outside what was expected of them.
    Once they arrived at her brother’s side, she released Lord Gifford’s arm. Still astounded knowing she, daughter of Hawksford, was being publicly accepted, she inclined her head. “Thank you again, my lord. I appreciate the time you took and for what you just said.”
    He smiled. “You are most welcome. Time I have. And it is my hope you procure it. You will see me again the moment they cue the waltz.” He inclined his head. Still holding her gaze, he edged away and then turned and strode off into the crowds with a gloved hand set against his back as he wove around people. Halfway through the masses, he peered back at her one last time, as if to see if she were watching him. He slowly grinned.
    Inclining his head once again, he disappeared.
    Something told her she should have never given him that waltz. A waltz involved three minutes of close proximity, touching and a woman’s skirts flying against a man’s trousers. Damn it.
    She paused, realizing her mother wasn’t about. Where did the woman go? Turning to her brother, Caroline waved a hand toward him from behind another man’s back and caught his gaze. She mouthed at him, “ Where is Mama ?”
    Alex discreetly held up an apologetic gloved hand, asking for her patience as he finished his conversation.
    It was going to be a long night.
    She flicked open the fan dangling from her wrist and waved it back and forth before her heated face. The cool rhythm of the breeze she created reminded her just how hot the room really was. Biting her lip, she discreetly scanned the room from above her fan in the hopes of seeing Caldwell. Sadly, he was nowhere in sight. He might have even left. She sighed. Trying to get any amount of time alone with that man was like trying to breathe under water.
    Someone leaned in, bringing the refreshing scent of rose water into the frowsty air. “I, along with the entire ballroom, saw the ever respectable Lord Gifford escorting you back into the room,” her mother drawled. “You go out to meet one man of ill-repute and sweep back in with one of great repute. Brilliant. Even I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
    Caroline snapped her fan shut in exasperation and released it, letting it dangle from the velvet string attached to her wrist. “I can assure you, it wasn’t planned.” She swiveled toward her mother.
    Dowager Hawksford lingered, sinfully adorned in a low-cut, emerald satin gown that tapered off ivory shoulders. ’Twas a gown her brother had complained about all evening. Because in his opinion, it was too decadent for a woman in her fifties.
    Men.
    The