Page 27 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
“We meet again.”
She blinked. And stared. For a long moment, Cedric wondered if she’d lost her ability to speak.
Then she blinked again, as if coming back to herself before saying, “It is nice to see you again, Lord Colenhurst.”
Cedric tilted his head to the side. It took every ounce of his strength to keep from doing the ungentlemanly thing and run his gaze down the length of her. But being this close, it was tempting. He wanted to drink in every inch of her slim frame, robed in a lovely gown. But staring into her captivating eyes was an easy consolation prize.
“That isn’t very fair, you know,” he said. “After our interesting encounter, you did not think it important to give me your name.”
“You did not think it important to ask me for it,” she pointed out with ease.
“Very well, we may make our proper introductions during the last dance.”
Her brows raised. “I do not recall accepting an invitation to dance, my lord. Nor have I received one, for that matter.”
“Thatismy invitation.” He held out his hand, smirking slightly. “Would you do me the honours?”
She looked down at his hand. Cedric wondered if he had severely miscalculated their mutual interest in each other, and that she might turn him down.
But then she slid her hand into his, the light touch sending a thrill up his arm. He schooled his expression as best as he could, grasping her hand lightly and leading her out to dance.
The other couples had gathered, gentlemen already pulling their partners close. Cedric caught a whiff of vanilla when he pulled her to his chest and left the barest amount of space between them. Just enough to save them from scandal. She glanced down at his chest then back up at him, clearly noticing it as well.
“You are obviously not used to hearing the word no, my lord,” she said as they began swaying from side to side. “I could tell that you expected me to accept your invitation, without a single consideration to the chance that I may turn you away.”
“Then why did you, if you thought me to be so arrogant?”
“Curiosity,” she murmured. “I wonder about the Earl of Colenhurst as much as any other lady does.”
“I am hesitant to ask,” he admitted and he caught the end of her smile.
“Why? Is your reputation so terrible that you assume the things I wonder cannot be anything good?”
“In part. You also strike me as the type of lady who sees more than she should, though such eyesight fails miserably when walking along a street.”
“I was lost in thought,” she admitted, which intrigued Cedric. Any other lady would have flushed in a demure manner and tried to get him to forget her mishap. But she didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it in the slightest.
“What line of thought could have addled your brain so?” he mused aloud.
She tilted her head to look up at him. “I was studying you, my lord. You struck an interesting and imposing figure and I was wondering who you could be.”
Cedric was at a loss for words. He couldn’t tell if it was her candid words or the way she was looking at him. Perhaps both.
Finally, he found the strength to ask, “What is your name, lady of mystery?”
She smiled. “Lady of Mystery. That has a lovely ring to it. Perhaps I should insist that I only be addressed as such going forward.”
Cedric cracked a smile but insisted, “Tell me your name, please.”
“Lady Caroline Winterbourne.”
The name struck him as familiar. It took him a moment to remember where he’d heard it from. “Are you the Viscount of Winterbourne’s daughter?”
Her smile turned rueful, her eyes shadowed with sadness. “Not his daughter. His wife.”
Cedric frowned, remembering it suddenly. He knew Lord Winterbourne in passing, only because he had been a friend of Cedric’s father. But he spent most of his time in the countryside. If he could recall correctly, the last time Cedric had seen Lord Winterbourne was a few years ago when the viscount had come to London to seek a wife.
“His wife,” Cedric echoed. “His widow.”
