Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,15

him calling to take tea with her family.

While Letty chattered with her aunt, Lord Reade asked Jo if she approved of masked balls. His voice, low and seductive, held a sardonic note. Did he disapprove of her? Or the ball? A man had come dressed in a harlequin costume and danced around them, making people laugh.

“People’s behavior seems to alter while wearing a mask. I saw a gentleman cast himself at a lady’s feet and kiss her hem!” Jo said. As she sounded like a prudish governess, she hurried on. “I must admit I like to see people’s faces.”

“Some faces should never be hidden,” the baron said, an appreciative light in his eyes.

Mr. Cartwright chuckled. “And some are the better for the mask.”

When Reade’s dark eyes remained on her, she lifted her chin. “What is your opinion of masked balls, my lord?”

“These affairs have distinct advantages, Miss Dalrymple. I might be inclined to cast myself at your feet and kiss your hem.”

She gazed into those dark eyes. It was as though he had reached out and touched her. She swallowed. Was he flirting? Or toying with her? “It’s not that I’m disapproving of people’s actions, sir. I am merely surprised by them.”

Reade shrugged wide shoulders. “I am all approval when some of the ridiculous rules set by the doyens of Society are ignored.”

“For instance?” Mr. Cartwright prodded with a glimmer of humor in his blue eyes.

Reade shrugged again and cast a lazy smile at his friend. “Has marriage made you forgetful, Cartwright? I shan’t remind you of it, however, for it is not suited to a lady’s ears.”

Cartwright laughed.

“Forgive us, Miss Dalrymple,” Lord Reade said. “I should like to hear more of your fresh observations of the ton.”

“I have none, sir. This is only my third ball.”

Dark eyebrows raised over amused eyes. “Then, I must be patient.”

He was teasing her! Might it be because she was new to London? A country miss? She had already had experience of such men and felt vaguely disappointed that he was one of them. “That would depend upon whether I’m willing to share them with you, my lord.”

Lord Reade bowed gracefully. “Arrêt à bon temps,” he murmured with that fascinating smile, using a fencing term Jo recognized from a novel.

Mr. Cartwright chuckled. His eyes full of laughter.

Letty paused in her description of the alfresco entertainments found at tea gardens, a mere carriage drive from the city, to raise her eyebrows at them. “I fear I am missing something vastly entertaining.”

“We are discussing the merits of masked balls while employing the art of verbal fencing,” Mr. Cartwright said. “Miss Dalrymple has made a fine riposte.”

Letty smiled and returned to her conversation. The three were obviously on good terms. Jo was pleased with herself for getting the better of him. As he and Cartwright joined into Letty’s conversation, she took advantage of the moment to study him. But she had misjudged him; he was not at all condescending. He carried himself like a soldier. Might he have been one? Since the war ended two years ago, many men had sold out.

A second waltz was announced.

“Will you honor me with a dance, Miss Dalrymple?” Lord Reade asked, turning to her.

“Certainly, sir.” Surprised that he would ask her, Jo rose and rested her hand on his arm.

Butterflies stirred in her stomach as she walked beside him, aware of the relaxed, effortless power of his movements. Was he a rake? A woman was unlikely to rise disappointed from his bed. The thought was so arousing, heat flooded her face. Jo dropped her chin. Never in her life had she met such a man. A warning voice sounded in her head. You are out of your depth.

As they joined those on the dance floor waiting for the waltz to begin, to distract herself from the unsettling presence of the man beside her, she compared him to Mr. Ollerton. They were different in every way imaginable. Reade made little effort to charm her. He was dark, where Ollerton was fair. Reade was no slave to fashion, either. His only adornments were a watch chain and a heavy ornate gold ring on his little finger. His black tailcoat fitted him well across the muscular breadth of his shoulders and required none of the padding some men resorted to. The superfine material was snug at his narrow waist, and his pantaloons emphasized the musculature and length of his legs. While Mr. Ollerton styled his hair in a careful Brutus, Reade’s hair was a