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

– he was two-and-twenty that year – his own hair was more in vogue, its dark sable lit with a few hints of gold. But without the facial features the young ladies seemed to favor and no title at the time, he found very few willing dance partners and even fewer with whom he wanted to spend time. He eschewed the ballroom and parlors in favor of learning to fence and to shoot pistols and muskets, taking great satisfaction in becoming an expert marksman with a sword as well as with a gun. As a result, his body was lean, well muscled, and certainly more suited to the current fashions than most.
    Lady Elizabeth certainly seemed to think so, he thought. Once their introductions were complete, he had asked if he might escort her to the supper, realizing the now-departed Duke of Somerset was probably expecting to do so before he supposedly grew his additional left foot.
    “I would like that very much, Mr. Bennett-Jones,” she replied with a shy smile, her gaze never once leaving his to look for the Butter Blond that probably expected to dine with her if she wasn’t with the duke.
    George offered his arm, and Elizabeth placed her gloved hand on it. A frisson passed through his arm as he felt her light touch. He noticed the contrast of her cream kid gloves on the sleeve of his black satin tailcoat. This was a woman he wanted on his arm at every event, he thought suddenly.
    What the hell am I thinking?
    They made their way to the large supper room. Set up with a long, well-stocked buffet table and dozens of round tables dressed in white linens and crystal and chargers, its centerpiece was an ice sculpture. A swan bobbed in its own pond atop the main buffet table, its neck towering over the roast pig below. Footmen served a variety of foods from several locations as well as carried trays with glasses of champagne.
    George searched for a table set away from the growing crowd, noticing one in front of a wall of windows that looked out onto a terrace and garden. Paper lanterns lit the gardens beyond the windows, giving the area an ethereal feel unlike the rest of the supper room. “Will this do for my lady?” he asked as he moved to pull out a chair.
    “Of course,” she replied without hesitation, her smile never seeming forced. She took the chair that George held for her and glanced up at him with an appreciative nod.
    George still expected someone to come claim her.
    “Might I fill a plate for you? Or would you prefer to join me at the buffet table?” he wondered. He noted there were very few woman in the line, and those that were in line were dowagers; most men seemed to see to their lady’s meals.
    Lady Elizabeth blushed. She blushed! “Oh, I do not need an entire supper,” she answered, turning to take a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “Perhaps I can just help myself to some nibbles from your plate?” she suggested, her teeth suddenly catching her lower lip and her eyes widening as if she’d caught herself saying something not quite acceptable.
    Nibbles!
    It was nearly his undoing. Besides the sudden humor George felt at her comment, his cock was responding as if it wanted to be one of those nibbles. George tried hard to suppress the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth and found he could not. “You can help yourself to nibbles from my plate any time, my lady,” he said with as much humor as he felt, deciding a bit of flirtation and his easy smile could only help his cause.
    Giggling so that a dimple showed in one of her cheeks, Lady Elizabeth took a sip of champagne and watched as George made his way to the buffet. He felt her eyes on him while he chose foods most easily eaten with fingers, including an array of sweets. When those that recognized him nodded or made comments, he acknowledged in kind but did not initiate any conversation that might keep him from Lady Elizabeth’s side any longer than was necessary. When he returned to their table, he was almost surprised to find her still there,