Catching Captain Nash (Dashing Widows #6)(48)

Such spectacular masculinity would make Michelangelo weep.

“Delighted, Lady Mowbray.” His soft murmur set every nerve jangling with female awareness.

“Good evening, my lord,” she said, shocked that the words emerged at all, let alone as steadily as they did.

With a spurt of relief, she realized that she wasn’t sixteen anymore. By God, she could handle society. She could handle anything life threw at her. Here was proof. While butterflies and grasshoppers performed a mad ballet in her stomach, she faced down the man who had once turned her tongue-tied.

Her smile broadened as she stared into Lord Pascal’s brilliant blue eyes. Dear heaven, that color was extraordinary, like a noon sky on a perfect summer day.

Those eyes warmed and turned predatory, and she realized her hand still rested in his. Ten years ago—good Lord, last week—she’d have jerked away, flustered and awkward. Not tonight. Tonight she remained where she was and let herself drown in those azure eyes.

“May I presume upon our new acquaintance and ask for this waltz?”

“I’m engaged with Sir Brandon.” With a flirtatiousness she’d never before attempted, she let her lashes flutter down. She didn’t mention that she and Pascal had met before, if years ago. Why revive memories of her clumsy younger self and spoil this chance to make an old dream come true?

Pascal didn’t even glance at Fenella’s son. “I’m sure he’ll yield to my greater need.”

“Greater need?” Amy slowly withdrew her hand.

“Sometimes a waltz can be a matter of life or death, my lady.”

Brandon turned away from Meg and smiled at Amy. “Shall we?”

He must have missed the quiet exchange between Amy and Pascal. She shivered with delight. His lordship’s nonsense seemed even more delicious when spoken privately in a public place.

“I’m claiming seniority,” Pascal said with a smile.

“That’s a dashed cheek,” Brandon said good-naturedly. “What’s a fellow to do instead?”

“He can dance with his dear sweet mother,” Fenella said, taking his arm and casting a laughing glance at Amy and Lord Pascal.

“Always happy to dance with you, Mamma,” Brandon said gallantly. “You’re still the prettiest woman in the room.”

“Are you sure, Brandon?” Amy asked, feeling bad for deserting him.

“That my mamma is a peach? I am indeed.” He didn’t sound like he minded too much missing out on partnering Amy.

“You’re a good lad,” Anthony said, clapping his son on the shoulder.

“You have my thanks, Sir Brandon.” Pascal drew Amy toward the dance floor.

“Do I get any say in this?” she asked, with a breathless catch in her voice.

His arm slid around her waist, and he caught her hand in his, setting off another of those odd frissons. “Do you want to say no?”

He stared down at her as if he saw nobody else in this crowded ballroom. She had to work hard to summon a response. It really was the most extraordinary sensation, being this close to such physical splendor. Her girlhood self had been transfixed, but mostly at a distance. Now it turned out that grown-up Amy was even more susceptible to golden good looks and deep blue eyes. The music started, and for the first time, her steps fell into the rhythm without her conscious effort to count.

“Lady Mowbray?”

She reminded herself that she was no longer a na?ve, impressionable ninnyhammer. She’d been married. She ran a great estate. Her appearance was modish in the extreme. She owed it to Sally to demonstrate a modicum of polish.

Instinct told her to play at reluctance. It was a game she’d seen enacted often, although she’d never before felt equipped to join in. But the answer that emerged was short and honest. “No.”

That striking face so far above hers—his perfect proportions hid quite how tall he was until you were right next to him—relaxed into a smile of masculine satisfaction. “That’s what I hoped.”

He swept her into a turn that left her dizzy. Yet feet that usually threatened to stumble kept her upright and moving.

Heat radiated everywhere they touched, and her heart raced with exertion and excitement. She could hardly believe it. Her first ball this season, and she danced with a man as close to a prince as any she was ever likely to meet.

Cinderella would be green with envy.