Chapter 3

L ucy found it difficult to concentrate on what Eleanor was saying when her full attention was on Viscount Holbrook. At least her new friend was too sensible to whisk her away from the men just so they could critique what everyone was wearing. It was a topic of conversation Lucy knew would be on many lips at that very moment.

But she'd never enjoyed the act of tearing other women down just to make herself feel better even though she knew many of tonight's guests had taken joy in gossiping about her husband's infidelities. For all she knew, they were talking about her right now. There she is. I can't believe she has the temerity to show her face. Did you hear about how her husband died?

Lucy pushed aside those thoughts and concentrated on what Eleanor was saying about a new author she'd recently discovered. When the Countess of Hargrove had learned that Lucy enjoyed reading novels, they'd become instant friends.

The strains of a waltz began to play. As if they'd choreographed it, Eleanor turned to her right just as her husband reached her side. He held out his arm, and Eleanor took it with a besotted smile.

"I hope you don't mind my abandoning you for a few minutes," Eleanor said.

Lucy refused to acknowledge the pang of longing that hit her when she witnessed the intimate way Hargrove looked at his wife. She'd need to grow a thicker skin since she was now surrounded by happily married couples. "Of course not," she murmured, trying to infuse as much warmth as she could into her smile.

She hadn't realized Holbrook was standing off to one side until he spoke.

"I hope you haven't already promised this dance to another?"

His words were polite, but they both knew she hadn't. As a widow, she didn't need to carry a dance card. Men weren't flocking around her for dances. Not public ones at any rate. No, what they wanted from her was what all men seemed to want from widows. A quick tumble. Widows who hadn't been able to give their husbands children weren't sought after as marriage candidates, but they were very desirable to men who wanted to bed a woman without needing to worry about siring a bastard.

Her brother's warning about that fact last month, when she'd told him she was ready to start attending social events again, had surprised her. But she was glad he'd told her what to expect. It explained why so many men were looking at her. She wondered how long it would be before she received her first proposition.

Her first real proposition anyway. Holbrook's embarrassment the previous evening when he realized how she might have interpreted his unfinished statement had amused her.

Her smile was genuine when she took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the center of the ballroom. It was silly, but in that moment she almost felt like the innocent young woman she'd once been, thrilled that a handsome man had asked her to dance. But she couldn't deny that her partner was attracting no small amount of attention from other women.

He kept a circumspect distance between them when she moved into his arms. On the one hand, it meant he wasn't like all the other men who were prowling around the room, waiting for their opportunity to approach her. She could almost feel their eyes on her right now. But here, among all the other couples who were intent only on their dance partner, she could breathe a little easier. No one would be approaching her for the next few minutes.

Still, she couldn't deny that she felt a twinge of sadness at the fact Holbrook would never see her as the hopeful young woman, filled with joy, she'd once been.

Holbrook more than made up for her temporary melancholy with his flair for dancing. He seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in sweeping her across the entire dance floor. When he spun her away from him, then back into his arms, she couldn't hold back her laughter.

"You are quite good at waltzing, my lord."

His grin was wide. "It isn't often that I find a dance partner who can keep up with me."

She searched his expression, looking for any hint of a double entendre. The fact that his words seemed sincere caused a contrary part of her to want to tease him.

She lowered her voice and inched a tiny fraction closer. "I'm happy to hear that. It's not often that I find a partner who challenges me."

Lucy wanted to laugh when his eyes widened, then narrowed. He was trying to decide whether he'd read too much into her words. She was enjoying his confusion. And if she was being completely honest, found herself wanting to get to know the viscount better.

Instead of replying, he swept her around the ballroom dance floor again. His movements were confident, and she suspected a less experienced partner would have bumped into at least one other couple. But somehow Holbrook managed the feat even though he spent most of that time looking down at her.

When the music finally drew to a close, she was much too close to him. His stare bored straight through to her soul, and she was very aware of the way her breath was coming out in small pants.

They stayed that way for what seemed an eternity. Surely much longer than was appropriate. The spell was broken, however, when someone clapped Holbrook on the shoulder.

She was only peripherally aware of the man who'd interrupted. He asked her for the next dance—not a waltz thankfully. She accepted with a small nod and allowed him to lead her to join one of the sets that was forming.

She turned back once, some instinct telling her exactly where to look. Holbrook had moved off to the side of the room and was leaning casually against the wall. Two young women walked in front of him, slowing as they passed, hoping he would notice them and ask one of them to dance. But his gaze remained fixed on her.

When Lucy turned back to her partner, it took a great deal of effort to hold back her grin.

Later, when that dance was over, she couldn't remember whom she'd danced with, nor did she care. A plan—a crazy, insane plan—was beginning to take shape.