With All My Heart by Barbara Dawson Smith

Author:Barbara Dawson Smith
Language: ron
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

FINDING FIRTH

Josh wended his way through the clusters of guests outside the ballroom. A few men nodded to him, though none approached with a friendly greeting or a genial jest. His ignominy suited him in a peculiar way. Though he despised the tarnish to his honor, the scandal served as a barrier to conversations that would have distracted him from his purpose.

In the staircase hall, an older lady guided her dewy-eyed daughter in a wide detour around him. He noted cynically the moonling stare the girl sent him from under her lashes. Silly twit. Like so many others, she was fascinated by his notoriety. He couldn’t imagine being attracted to a juvenile straight out of the schoolroom, a girl young enough to be his daughter. He far preferred the company of a mature woman who could match him, wit for wit.

A woman like Anne.

His chest tightened at the thought of her gliding downstairs earlier in the evening. For a moment he hadn’t recognized her. Gone was the scraped-back bun, the spinster’s cap, the drab, high-throated gown. Gone as well was the sallow complexion and sour-mouthed look. As she’d descended the stairs, he’d stared in idiotic surprise at a radiant vision in a pink gown that clung to her womanly curves.

It was bloody lucky he’d been standing behind the others, else the tight cut of his breeches would have betrayed his instantaneous arousal. Disciplined as he was in all other matters, he had no defenses against the memory of that lithe, feminine body clasped to his. He wanted to hold her again, to have another long taste of her mouth.

Hell, why not be honest? He wanted to haul Anne into a deserted chamber and make love to her, the consequences be damned.

That compulsion grew like tentacles around his sense of purpose. He had to find the sniper. To punish him and then get out of Anne’s life, to seek peace and solitude on his estate. Already, she knew too much about him. About his dreams.

About his nightmares.

The war—and Lily—had taught him to stay aloof. In order to ensure the safety of the men under his command, an officer kept his emotions under strict control. Josh didn’t intend to risk himself again on the battlefield of love, either. Ladies like Anne were for wedding, not bedding. He had given his heart once, and the scars would last him a lifetime.

Tense, he paused in the entrance to an enormous drawing room. An excess of gilt decorated the Corinthian columns, the mantelpiece, even the pseudo-Renaissance panels on the high ceiling. Swags of draperies in the same crimson hue as the carpets decorated the tall windows. Intent on their games, groups of guests played cards at tables by the light of candelabras. White-wigged footmen offered trays of drinks. The chatter of genteel voices and the clink of glasses mingled with the distant music from the ballroom.

Then Josh spied his quarry.

In a dimly lit corner of the chamber, two men stood by a long table covered in green baize.

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