Within moments the butler ushered him into a pleasant parlor. The three scheming wraiths he’d glimpsed through the window took full form and decorated the room with their brightly hued frocks. Lady Landon perched delicately upon a chaise while a young blonde sat adjacent her. Positioned beside the piano—dressed in pale blue and ivory calico—was the ‘green skirt’ from the night before.
“May I present Lord John Breckenridge for Lady Penelope Hale,” the butler stated officiously.
The ladies stood in tandem, dipping into matching delicate curtsies. As introductions were made, John nodded absently to Lady Landon and her curly haired daughter before turning his full attention to Penelope. Genuine surprise rocked him at his first good look at Colton’s charity case. Not what he’d expected, and he had to hand it to his brother… Colton had excellent taste in women.
John flicked a quick, assessing glance the length of Penelope, and then allowed himself a more lingering perusal.
Nay. Colton had exquisite taste in women, for that is what Lady Penelope was. Exquisite.
Rich auburn curls swept up from slender shoulders, loosely pinned in a graceful chignon while wistful tendrils drifted down along her cheeks. Healthy pink glowed from high cheek bones that tapered into a smooth heart-shaped chin and her mouth nestled full and pouty within the palest shade of peach and rose—the perfect accent to milky skin splashed with an irresistible smattering of freckles. There was a naughty tilt to the corners of that sumptuous mouth, the sort that begged a man to brush his own lips against that sinful swirl in slow reverent kisses. Her downcast eyes prevented him from discerning the exact hue... probably blue… and John was possessed of the sudden urge to march across the room, tip that dainty chin with his forefinger and discover the color of her eyes.
Imagine. John Breckenridge. The most jaded man in all Britain struck dumb and speechless by the sight of a woman.
Utterly ridiculous.
He knew better. Though she was without doubt the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—not a classic beauty by any stretch, she had far too many freckles for that, but her coloring radiated warmth.
John cocked his head, contemplating. Was her reluctance to glance up at him genuine shyness? Or practiced cunning meant to lure men in? Likely the later.
As if on cue Lady Penelope lifted her gaze to his and—
Dear God.
John nearly stumbled back a step.
Those eyes…
So vibrant and green. Haunting. Achingly lovely. With the thickest fringe of red lashes. Straight from a dream, to be true. She had the irresistible, bewitching beauty that smart men ran from and all other fools fell into. Naught but trouble stemmed from a woman this beautiful.
“I am honored by your visit, my lord,” she murmured, her voice soft and without any hint of coyness. She sounded shy. Shy and genuine. And warm.
His fickle heart dropped a fraction. If he was interested in finding a wife—which he most definitely was not—Lady Penelope was well beyond his grasp. This was the sort of girl who set her cap to marry a duke, and succeeded. Before he could dwell on the twinge of disappointment at the back of his mind, heated footfalls from the corridor drew his attention.
“Laura?” A man’s voice called from further down the hall. “Have you seen my letter opener?”
John turned to find George Harris, Earl of Landon, whisking into the room from the front hall, a packet of correspondence clutched in his hand. A pair of spectacles slipped studiously down his long nose while his gray brow furrowed as though deeply concerned about something.
Chapter Five
Start from the beginning
