The Wicked Widow Meets Her Match by Stefanie Sloane

Author:Stefanie Sloane [Sloane, Stefanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-345-53888-8
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Grace adjusted the intricate mask of silver and gold she wore. “Well, I suppose an uncomfortable mask is better than the oppressive hat,” she said to Langdon, burrowing closer to his side as the crowds of Vauxhall Gardens pressed against her.

He tightened his arm about her waist. “Very pragmatic of you,” he confirmed, a charming smile appearing just below his fanciful mask.

Grace smirked in reply. “Are you teasing me for being practical?”

“Not at all,” he replied in earnest. “It is one of your most admirable traits. And until you came along, one of mine.”

“What do you mean, until I came along?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she considered whether he’d meant to pay her a compliment.

Or not.

The crowd around them seemed to pulse with excitement. Cries of delight and anticipation broke out in the cheaper boxes. Wearing concealing masks apparently made the revelers feel anonymous—and more uninhibited.

Langdon bent closer and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “I mean, when you are in sight, I cannot think rationally, let alone practically. All I want is you and damn all the rest.”

“Oh,” Grace replied, delight flooding her. “Is it wrong that I find the idea of holding some sort of power over you enjoyable?”

He laughed out loud, a charming dimple creasing his cheek. “Not at all.”

“Very enjoyable? Extremely so?” she pressed, desperate to see him smile.

“Power monger,” he muttered good-naturedly, the delicious dimple appearing once more.

Flirting again, after she’d spent so long avoiding innuendo and affection, felt good to Grace. She was elated to learn she’d not forgotten how to do it.

A man stepped in front of them, a sly, wily grin on his long, narrow face. “Good evening to you, Mr. Clark.”

Grace did not recognize him as a member of the Kingsmen, but that meant very little, especially in light of his jaunty scarlet mask. New recruits were forced into service every day. She was glad she still wore the serviceable dagger strapped to her thigh.

“Mr. Davis,” Langdon replied in a relaxed manner. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You’ve not been able to see me, as you’ve been admiring the Widow, here,” the man countered, his smile friendly as he bowed politely to Grace. “And who would blame you.”

Langdon looked down at Grace, consideration on his face, laughter in his eyes. “Should I introduce you to Mr. Davis? His charm is well known. He might just steal you away, right out from under my nose.”

“Impossible,” Grace assured him, then held out her hand to the man.

“Very well,” Langdon proceeded. “Lady Grace, may I introduce you to Mr. Richard Davis, my second in command.”

Mr. Davis carefully clasped her fingers and bowed with polite deference, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at her from beneath his lashes.

Amused, Grace laughed softly.

“That is far too sweet a sound to have come from the Wicked Widow,” he remarked, winking rakishly.

“And that is far too grand a mustache to spring on unsuspecting strangers, Mr. Davis,” Grace replied, looking pointedly at his upper lip.

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