Lady Priscilla's Shameful Secret by Christine Merrill

Author:Christine Merrill
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

When next she saw Reighland, on the other side of the Tremaine ballroom, it was just as she’d feared it would be. Her heart beat faster, her cheeks flushed and it was all she could do to keep from running to his side. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Something had changed within her. Tonight, given the chance, she would make a cake of herself over the duke, acting just as silly as every other girl in London.

She had caught herself preparing for this evening with extra care, choosing a gown of blue muslin trimmed with silver that matched sweetly with her colouring, while sporting a neckline that was near to indecent. With it, she wore the gloves and the stockings. And all the while she dressed, she could think of nothing but Reighland’s reaction when he saw her. She had actually caught herself turning in the mirror and practising the cautious display of ankle that might best show the stocking.

Now she was standing at her father’s side, barely listening to the greetings of the host and hostess, while scanning the crowd for the only guest that mattered to her. She turned, trying to pretend that she was not looking for him, and glanced in his direction.

He looked back at her and smiled. There was the briefest flick of his eyes towards her ankles, but he made no further effort to look. It was as though he’d ascertained all he needed from the look in her eyes.

Apparently he was not as preoccupied by the silk on her legs as she was. She felt the way her thighs slipped against each other, as her little group worked its way through the crowd. Her limbs felt smooth and wonderful. It was a pity that skirts went all the way to the floor. These stockings were made to be admired.

She glanced across the room at Reighland again and felt heat rising, on her face, in her breasts and lower, between her silk-clad legs. He would want to look at them, if she allowed it. She imagined raising her petticoats for him as far as her knees, perhaps just enough to reveal the hem of her chemise.

She could imagine the feel of his hand on her calf, the other on the heel of her slipper, pulling it free…

‘Priscilla!’

‘I beg your pardon…’ She had bumped into Ronnie, who had stopped suddenly in front of her.

‘If you are not careful, you are going to spill your wine. The glass is tipping. And do stop ogling Reighland. If the match is not fully formed, you are hardly entitled to stare at him in public.’

‘Yes, Veronica.’

Across the room, Reighland was chuckling as though he had just heard the most diverting story, even though he had been standing alone.

In response, she touched her skirt and gave it a twitch.

His eyes drooped immediately to the hemline, trying to spy her ankle, and then back to her face.

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