The Marriage Wager Read Online Free Page A

and easy manner. He was a little taller than average, topping Constance by several inches, and slender, with a wiry body that hinted at hidden strength. He was dressed well but not meticulously in a formal black suit and white shirt, his ascot tied in a simple but fashionable style, with none of the fusses and frills of a dandy. His eyes were a deep blue, the color of a lake in summer, and his mouth was wide and mobile, accented by a deep dimple on one side. When he smiled, as he did now, his eyes lit up merrily, beckoning everyone around him to join in his good humor. His hair, dark blond sunkissed with lighter streaks, was worn a trifle longer than was fashionable and tousled in a way that owed more to carelessness than to his valet’s art.
    He was, Constance thought, someone whom it was difficult to dislike, and she suspected that he was well aware of his effect, especially upon women. The unaccustomed visceral tug of attraction she felt inside was proof of his power, she thought, and firmly exercised control over the jangling of nerves in her stomach. She had to be immune to flirtatious smiles and handsome men, for she was not, after all, marriage material, and any other option was unthinkable.
    “Viscount Leighton, I presume?” she said lightly.
    “Alas, I am, for my sins,” he responded, and swept her a very creditable bow. “And your name, my lady?”
    “It is merely miss,” she answered. “And it would be highly improper, I think, to give it to a stranger.”
    “Ah, but not as highly improper as being alone with said stranger, as you are now,” he countered. “But once you tell me your name, we will no longer be strangers, and then all is perfectly respectable.”
    She let out a little laugh at his reasoning. “I am Miss Woodley, my lord. Miss Constance Woodley.”
    “Miss Constance Woodley,” he repeated, moving closer and saying confidentially, “now you must offer me your hand.”
    “Indeed? Must I?” Constance’s eyes danced. She could not remember when she had last engaged in light flirtation with any man, and she found it quite invigorating.
    “Oh, yes.” He made a grave face. “For if you do not, how am I to bow over it?”
    “But you have already made a perfectly proper bow,” she pointed out.
    “Yes, but not while I was so lucky as to be in possession of your hand,” he replied.
    Constance extended her hand, saying, “You are a very persistent sort of fellow.”
    He took her hand in his and bowed over it, holding it a bit longer than was proper. When he released it, he smiled at her, and Constance felt the warmth of his smile all the way down to her toes.
    “Now we are friends, so all is proper.”
    “Friends? We are but acquaintances, surely,” Constance replied.
    “Ah, but you have saved me from Lady Taffington. That makes you very much my friend.”
    “Then, as a friend, I feel I am free to inquire as to why you are hiding in the library from Lady Taffington. She did not seem fearsome enough to send a grown man into popping behind doors.”
    “Then you do not know Lady Taffington. She is that most terrifying of all creatures, a marriage-minded mama.”
    “Then you must take care not to run into my aunt,” Constance retorted.
    He chuckled. “They are everywhere, I fear. The prospect of a future earldom is more than most can resist.”
    “Some would think it is not so bad to be so eagerly desired.”
    He shrugged. “Perhaps…if the pursuit had aught to do with me rather than my title.”
    Constance suspected that Lord Leighton was sought after for far more than his title. He was, after all, devastatingly handsome and quite charming, as well. However, she could scarcely be so bold as to say so.
    As she hesitated, he went on, “And for whom is your aunt hunting husbands?” His eyes flickered down to her ringless wedding finger and back up. “Not you, surely. I would think that it would be an easy task if that were the case.”
    “No. Not me. I am well past that age by