Pursuing Lord Pascal Read Online Free Page A

satisfaction. “That’s
what I hoped.”
    He swept her into a turn that left her dizzy.
Yet feet that usually threatened to stumble kept her upright and
moving.
    Heat radiated everywhere they touched, and
her heart raced with exertion and excitement. She could hardly
believe it. Her first ball this season, and she danced with a man
as close to a prince as any she was ever likely to meet.
    Cinderella would be green with envy.

Chapter Two
     
    Pascal started his campaign the next
afternoon. Last night’s two dances had only whetted his curiosity
about the new arrival to London. In between, he’d managed to find
out what little society knew about the beguiling Lady Mowbray.
    The lady was a widow, and now he understood
that nagging feeling of familiarity. She was Silas Nash, Lord
Stone’s youngest sister. The Nashes were a famously clever
family.
    And Pascal’s luck held beyond her brains and
lack of an encumbering spouse. It seemed there was money.
Unusually, most of the late Sir Wilfred Mowbray’s property hadn’t
been entailed on his next male heir, but left to his young widow.
With a generous portion from her Nash relatives, this lovely woman
was nicely plump in the pocket.
    Perhaps Pascal needn’t marry a dimwitted
heiress to restore the Dacre fortunes after all.
    He’d also learned that she was staying with
Sally in Half Moon Street. Which explained why he was currently
standing on the elegant front steps of Norwood House.
    The butler showed him to the drawing room and
left to ascertain if Lady Mowbray was at home. The room was crammed
with bouquets, and if only a fraction were for Lady Mowbray, it was
clear that he had competition. Even as he waited, footmen carried
in at least another half dozen.
    Etiquette limited a partner who was neither
husband nor betrothed to two dances at a party. So last night,
Pascal had watched as she’d danced every set, apart from his two,
with one or another of London’s fashionable numskulls. Most of whom
he counted as his friends.
    Now he scowled at the riot of color
surrounding him. He restrained the urge to gather up every last
flower, whoever they were meant for, and toss the lot into the
street.
    He possessed enough self-awareness to be
surprised at his jealousy.
    Lady Mowbray entered with the resolute strut
he’d noticed last night. Most girls were taught to prance and
mince, but Lady Mowbray, who wasn’t much past girlhood, despite
being a widow, stalked into a room as if she knew where she was
going, and meant to get there sooner rather than later. After ten
years of society poppets, he liked how she moved.
    “Lord Pascal, how lovely of you to call.” The
thick mane of leonine hair was caught up in a loose knot that made
his fingers itch to undo it. She wore some floaty thing,
embroidered with daisies and violets on white muslin.
    His pulse hadn’t raced at the sight of a
woman since his first season, when he’d learned he was far more
likely to be the pursued rather than the pursuer. But when he saw
Lady Mowbray, his heart performed an unaccustomed skip. He felt a
sudden urge to go on his knees and thank her for rescuing him from
a miserable marriage with a silly, giggling chit straight out of
the schoolroom.
    Pascal caught the hand she extended and bent
over it. A less devious man might risk a kiss, but he played a
subtle game. A game he’d started so often that it had begun to
pall. London’s handsomest man rarely failed when he set out after a
woman.
    Another surprise today. With Lady Mowbray,
the game seemed intriguing and new.
    “I’m astonished you can see me amongst all
these floral tributes.” It was an effort to keep the sourness from
his tone.
    She glanced around with a smile. “They’re
throughout the house.”
    “You made a triumph last night.”
    Pascal considered himself too jaded to find a
woman’s blush charming. But the pink coloring Lady Mowbray’s creamy
skin beguiled him.
    “They’re not all for me. Lady Norwood’s niece
made a