How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,23

had been a marvelous idea!

“Pardon me.” Nathanial turned to one of the other ladies nearby. “I’m afraid your friend seems to require your assistance.”

“Nonsense!” the lady in blue objected as another one in a silvery gown reached for her hand. “I’m perfectly fine. See?” All but pushing herself away from Nathanial, she staggered one step, then another, before sinking into the arms of the woman in the silvery gown, giggling endlessly as her legs collapsed under her.

This evening seemed to be getting better and better!

“I need to dance,” the lady in blue suddenly exclaimed, and her gaze settled back on Nathanial, a bit of a predatory gleam in her shrouded eyes. Then she straightened and came staggering toward him.

Nathanial’s mind was desperately searching for a way out of this predicament when a melodious voice suddenly spoke out from behind him, “Would you care to accompany me out onto the terrace?”

“Of course.” The words flew from his lips before he had even turned around. After all, it didn’t matter. Nothing and no one could be worse than trying to keep an inebriated woman on her feet as she clung to him like a sack of potatoes.

Nathanial would have been grateful no matter what sight had awaited him. Still, when his gaze fell on the glowing vision who had just saved him from a most dreadful and mortifying situation, Nathanial could not help but feel something more than gratitude.

Dressed in a golden gown, the lady stood before him, her dark hair dancing down over her shoulders in thick, luxurious waves. “The air is quite stuffy in here, is it not?” she asked with a glance over his shoulder that made him think she knew very well what danger he was facing.

Nathanial nodded, then offered her his arm. “It is, indeed.”

Granting him a gentle smile, the lady in gold slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and then turned to gesture toward the large French doors only a few paces away. “Shall I lead the way?”

“Very well,” Nathanial replied, relieved to detect no sign of inebriation in her speech nor balance.

Together, they made their way through the dancers until they finally pushed open the doors leading onto the terrace. The slightly chilled night air hit them like a wave crashing upon a cliff, and Nathanial briefly rocked back on his heels. Still, it was utterly refreshing and he glanced at his companion as she drew in a deep breath, her eyes closed as though she were savoring the moment. “Thank you,” he couldn’t help but say, aware that his evening could have taken an altogether different turn.

“You’re welcome.” Casting him another warm smile, she then strode across the granite terrace, her arms spread wide as she tilted back her head. “This feels wonderful, does it not?”

The sky overhead was a deep midnight black, here and there dotted with small diamonds that sparkled in the soft, silvery glow of an almost full moon. A gentle breeze brushed over Nathanial’s heated skin as he followed her away from the deafening sounds of the ball at their backs. The scent of jasmines, fresh and alluring, lingered on the air, and hulking shadows loomed nearby, giving Nathanial a vague idea of Lord Witherton’s gardens.

With each step, the music and insistent voices lessened, and Nathanial’s attention was drawn to the glowing lady as she twirled in a circle, her arms still spread and laughter spilling from her lips. There was something utterly free and untamed about the way she experienced the moment, and Nathanial could not help but envy her.

What was her secret?

“I always did this when I was a child,” she laughed, twirling faster, her eyes touching upon his at each turn. “Come and join me. You’ll love it.”

“I’d rather not,” Nathanial replied, forcing his gaze away from her as he strode over to the balustrade, looking out at the night sky.

“Why?” she demanded, suddenly standing beside him.

Her eyes seemed like two black pools as Nathanial looked down at her. He shrugged. “It’s childish.”

“And?”

He shrugged again. “And we’re not children anymore.”

“And?”

He frowned, turning to face her. “Did your parents or governess not teach you proper manners?” he asked, surprised by her reply. After all he had heard, he had expected English ladies to behave in a more respectable manner.

The lady laughed. “My father always said, Charlie, there is a time for proper behavior and a time for silliness,” she lifted a chiding finger and feigned a serious tone, “but take care not to get the