My One and Only Earl (Forever Yours #12) - Stacy Reid Page 0,12

an exceptionally tied cravat. His hair seemed in want of trim, for it curled above his forehead and at his nape in black waves. He looked slimmer than when she had last seen him but somehow harder, as if life experiences had aged him. What had not changed was his raw handsomeness, one that was almost beautiful. He possessed in every languid step the confidence and elegance of a gentleman of stature, of a man fully aware of his privileged position in society and how to wield that influence.

Mr. Delaney stopped before them, and an electric current of unbridled anticipation passed between her sisters and stepmother. An incredible and dreadful awareness seized Poppy, and her tongue seemed to tie itself into knots.

“Lord Kingsley,” Viscountess Balfour said, “May I present Baroness Hayes, her mother Mrs. Ashford, and her sisters Miss Poppy Ashford and Miss Rebecca Ashford.”

It was only then Poppy noted the viscountess had somehow materialized beside Mr. Delaney…no Lord Kingsley. Poppy suspected whatever was happening now might have been planned by Lavinia and the viscountess.

He bowed most charmingly and flashed a smile. “It is a pleasure, Lady Hayes, Mrs. Ashbrook, Miss Ashbrook and Miss Rebecca.”

“Lord Kingsley,” Lavinia said, dipping into a most elegant curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Her stepmother and Rebecca responded in kind, but Poppy only stared at him, so many questions tumbling through her thoughts. Had he been an earl when they first met?

His gaze landed on her, and Poppy dipped into a curtsy which felt clumsy. “Lord Kingsley,” she said upon rising.

“Miss Ashbrook,” he replied, “Would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me. That is if it is not taken?”

There was a gasp, then silence. It was then Poppy noted he stared at her and not Rebecca. A quick glance showed her family and the viscountess stared at her in varying degrees of shock. “I…a dance?”

“Yes, I believe a polka is up next?” He held out his hand. “I have not partnered with anyone as yet. Would you do me the honor, Miss Ashford?”

But I do not know how to dance, she wordlessly cried, staring at his outstretched gloved hand. “No,” she said so softly he might not have heard.

However, his brow arched in surprise.

Another sound reached Poppy, a sigh of relief from her stepmother. The crush of the ball that had felt exciting earlier now felt stifling. The walls pressed in on Poppy, and the sounds and scents were unexpectedly overwhelming.

“Our Poppy is not much of a dancer,” her stepmother said casually. “She never took to it, I am afraid.”

“I believe Rebecca is free for the next set,” Lavinia smoothly interposed. “And she is a most incredible dance partner.”

Poppy glanced up to find James' eyes—curiously penetrating, on her. Mortified, she dipped into another quick curtsy. “If you will excuse me, Lord Kingsley. I must urgently visit the retiring room for a few minutes.”

Without awaiting a reply, Poppy made her escape through the tightly packed ballroom, for once thankful for her short stature. They would not be able to see where she was headed.

James asked me to dance, and I refused. Poppy’s face burned, and she did not make for the retiring room but to the open terrace door leading to the back gardens. Keeping away from the laughter and the lantern lights, she walked to an alcove and took several gulping breaths.

Mr. James Delaney was the Earl of Kingsley. How was it possible?

Her heart lurched when someone gently touched her elbow from behind. The touch was so unexpected it surprised a gasp from Poppy. She whirled around, her gaze colliding with the fierce brilliance of indigo eyes. “Mr. Delaney…I…Lord Kingsley,” Poppy stammered. “Why…” Once again, her tongue tied in knots. She rarely engaged in conversation with the opposite sex, and when she did, it was to answer passionately asked questions about her younger sisters.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Let us dispense with formalities, shall we? Please, call me James.”

Poppy tried in vain to interpret the look in his eyes. There was something tender in his stare but also calculating. Poppy did not have enough experience to understand the emotions in his gaze. “I do not dare be so intimate,” she breathed.

He came closer until she could feel the pleasant heat radiating from his body though he did not touch her. “Why…why did you not tell me you are an earl?”

A quick frown chased his handsome features. “Would it have mattered? I am still the same man…your friend.”

A shaky laugh escaped