A Christmas Scandal by Jane Goodger

Author:Jane Goodger [Goodger, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781420112962
Google: B2DVy2JLvw4C
Amazon: B002QBV8N4
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2009-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Oh, my goodness, he’s even more beautiful in person,” gushed Lady Amelia as she clutched her brother’s arm, not seeing the look of complete disbelief in his eyes.

Carson Kitteridge stood at the entrance of the ballroom dressed in white from head to toe, except for the large silver embellishments on his hat, fringed shirt, pants, and spurred boots. He swept the hat off his head revealing long, wavy hair that was tied loosely in back with a white and silver string. At his throat, he wore a strange little tie and a large silver medallion that seemed to hold the tie in place. He looked more dazzling than the star at the top of the Christmas tree. As his eyes swept the crowd, each woman sighed in turn as his gaze touched upon them.

“Oh, good God,” Lord Hollings muttered.

“Isn’t he the grandest man you’ve ever seen?” Amelia asked.

“He certainly is…different,” Edward said. He knew only what he’d read in the Times, that Carson Kitteridge was supposedly a hero of the great Indian wars, rode with General Custer, and was generally considered an American hero. He owned a large ranch in Texas, was a member of the famous Texas Rangers, and was in England as a sort of ambassador for the great American wilderness. In between, of course, putting on two shows a day, which Edward had heard had little resemblance to the famous Buffalo Bill Cody Wild West Show that had all of England so enthralled six years ago. That show, which Edward had actually attended, was quite spectacular, featuring real Indians and real cowboys. Queen Victoria had even attended during the Golden Jubilee. This show, however, was considered far more pedestrian and less exciting than the original. Still, Carson Kitteridge was managing to engage London’s female population.

He was a large man, standing above most of the men in the room, something, Edward noted, he seemed to enjoy. He wore a pointed beard and a large mustache that curled upward, no doubt helped by wax. Edward had to admit he was a fine specimen, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why any woman would find him more attractive than, say, him.

He looked about the room and found her, Maggie, and was immensely relieved when he saw her hiding a smile behind her hand. As if knowing he stared, she looked at him and her smile broadened as she rolled her eyes—just slightly—to let him know just how absurd she thought the man was. God, he loved her.

Carson Kitteridge, looking like a king walking among his adoring subjects, entered the room flashing a smile that fairly made the gaslights and Christmas decorations seem dim. The orchestra resumed playing and ladies with their gentlemen began dancing while pretending not to look for the famous Carson Kitteridge.

Edward chanced another look at Maggie and found her still standing next to Sir William, watching as the American cowboy started to mingle. Holding her in his arms tonight had been sheer torture. And he still had a waltz to live through before the grand Christmas feast.

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