The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) by Linda Rae Sande

work in keeping them moving. Had she been unfamiliar with the waltz, she might have stumbled several times just since her new partner’s arrival. But this was her third Season, and he was a strong lead. “I must be unharmed as it appears I am dancing, although I must thank you for making all the effort. I have been of absolutely no help,” she replied finally, her eyes still wide as they took in the amused expression of her rescuer. Sable hair, cut rather short and combed forward in the latest style framed a face that was not particularly handsome. The bronzed skin suggested a man who spent a great deal of time out of doors – horseback riding, she thought as she considered his developed physique. Tiny lines at the edges of his brown eyes made her guess his age at somewhere near thirty. The straight, sloping brows were full at the base of his high forehead. His eyelids tucked under a stretch of skin that followed the line of his brows, making him appear just a bit sleepy. There was a hint of a hook at the end of his arced and somewhat crooked nose, making her think it might have once been broken. And he had an easy smile that displayed even, white teeth and laugh lines on either side of his mouth.
    And it was his mouth that had Elizabeth mesmerized.
    He had perfect lips. A lower lip that wasn’t too full and an upper lip with rounded triangles on either side. Some might call them chiseled. Kissable lips , she thought, her face coloring up as she made the assessment. She was suddenly reminded of the kiss the Earl of Trenton had bestowed on her in the garden and quickly put it out of her mind.
    “I say, that was rather an abrupt departure on His Grace’s part,” George spoke, his eye brows furrowed in feigned disgust. “Are you sure you are unharmed?” he wondered as he regarded the young woman, her cream tulle and satin skirts swaying against his legs as the waltz ended.
    Elizabeth Carlington smiled as she gazed up at him, the hand she’d placed on his shoulder during the dance now laying against her beautiful bosom, just above the edge of her low-cut bodice and the swath of ruched cream tulle decorating the top of her gown. She struggled to catch her breath.
    George was awestruck as her aquamarine eyes again met his, their long lashes framing the wide almond shapes topped by eyebrows that were arched into an expression of delight. Her brilliant smile, outlined by lips that he thought would be luscious to kiss, the straight nose, not too long and not too flared at the bottom, and high cheekbones were encompassed in a perfect oval with a hint of a widow’s peak at the very top. And that led to that gorgeous auburn hair, dressed into a mass of curls and adorned with baby’s breath and tiny cream rosebuds.
    She was a luscious looking woman, George decided right then.
    “I am,” she replied as she took another quick breath and gave him a nod of assurance. “His Grace may not be, I fear,” she added, her happy countenance belying her words. “He quite suddenly grew another left foot ...” She stopped in mid-sentence, her face coloring up to a pink that was quite fetching. “Oh, please forgive me,” she breathed, the smile suddenly disappearing from her face.
    Realizing what she was about to say, George allowed his own smile to broaden. “There is nothing to forgive, my lady. You made His Grace look a far sight better than he has in years,” he said as he regarded her, suddenly wondering if he should be so bold as to suggest he escort her to supper. Several couples were already leaving the dance floor and moving in that direction. “Forgive me. I am George Bennett-Jones, your servant,” he said as he hesitantly reached for her gloved hand, an eyebrow cocking as if to ask permission to kiss the back of it. He wasn’t yet used to introducing himself by his title. When he thought to add it at the last minute, he remembered Josephine’s instructions and did not offer it.
    Her smile slowly returning, Elizabeth