An Earl To Save Her Reputation. Laura Martin

was a good dancer and despite her years spent away from balls and ballrooms Anna felt the steps returning like long-lost friends. As they twirled past the other couples Anna could feel her spirits soaring. There was a freedom in dancing, a wonderful feeling that you might take flight, and she couldn’t believe she had gone so long without experiencing it.

      They didn’t speak while they danced and Anna found herself sneaking the odd glance at her companion. Beatrice was right, he was handsome, although maybe not in the conventional sense. Most men of the ton followed fashion closely. They wore intricately decorated waistcoats and spent time and money styling their hair as well as their clothes. Harry stood out in the ballroom exactly because he didn’t do those things. His hair was cut short and his clothes were no doubt expensive and finely made, but lacked the excessive pomp of the other men in the ballroom. What he did have was presence. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, but more than physical size he exuded a confidence that could not be imitated—you were either born with it or not.

      As the dance drew to a close Anna found herself disappointed. For a moment she had been transported back to the carefree days when she’d been a debutante. Before the marriages and the husbands, when the only reprimand she would get if she laughed too loud or danced too merrily was a stern word from her father.

      ‘Do you care for a breath of air?’ Harry asked as he escorted her from the dance floor. He picked up two glasses of champagne as they passed a table lined with sparkling flutes and offered her one.

      ‘I’m doing all the things I cautioned Beatrice against,’ Anna said, still allowing Harry to lead her out on to the terrace.

      The raised patio stretched the whole length of the back of the house and was well illuminated with lanterns. Coy young women strolled arm in arm with swaggering young men, while the more daring of couples whispered in darkened corners. Steps led from the raised terrace into the garden, with only the first few feet visible in the moonlight. Every debutante with hopes of a good match would have been warned from straying any further from the ballroom, but inevitably someone would be caught where they shouldn’t tonight.

      ‘Did you enjoy our waltz?’ Harry asked as he led her to the stone balustrade. They leaned on the smooth stone and gazed out into the garden, their forearms almost touching.

      There was no point in denying it. Anna knew her love of dancing had been rekindled and any onlooker would have been able to tell with a single glance how much she enjoyed her first waltz for many years.

      ‘I did, thank you.’

      ‘Your late husband wasn’t much of a dancer?’ Harry asked.

      Anna shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Early in the marriage they had attended various balls and functions together and Anna had made the mistake of accepting a young man’s invitation to dance after Lord Fortescue had made it clear he would not be making an appearance on the dance floor. Her husband had seen the dance as a betrayal and Anna had paid a high price for her few minutes of merriment.

      ‘I thought you didn’t like champagne,’ Anna said, motioning to the half-empty glass in Harry’s hand, latching on to the first thing she’d seen to try to steer the topic of conversation away from her disastrous marriage.

      ‘I thought it best we didn’t sneak through the house in search of something more palatable and get caught in a compromising position a second time within two weeks.’

      ‘Probably for the best,’ Anna murmured.

      ‘Tell me,’ Harry said, turning to her, ‘what made you agree to be a chaperon for your cousin?’

      ‘My uncle asked.’

      ‘That was all?’

      ‘I owe him a lot, not that he would ever ask anything I wasn’t comfortable with.’

      ‘He took you in after the death of Lord Fortescue?’

      ‘Among other things.’

      He’d done so much more than take her in. Anna had been broken, barely surviving when Uncle Phillip came and swept her into his loving home. He’d given her space to heal and provided gentle reminders that not everyone was a monster.

      ‘I think he is the only person to ever love me unconditionally,’ Anna said quietly.

      ‘What about your parents?’

      She shrugged before she could stop herself. Shrugging was a habit she’d always had, but Lord Fortescue had hated the miniscule movement of her shoulder. This past year she still repressed many of her natural reactions, but slowly they were creeping back.

      ‘My mother died when I was a young child, I barely remember her. My father...’ She paused, wondering how best to describe him. ‘I’m sure he did care, he just didn’t think a gentleman should be affectionate, so most of the time I had no idea what he was thinking.’

      ‘I’m glad you have someone to care for you.’ There was a softness to Harry’s voice that made her turn and look at him. He was smiling at her, a smile filled with warmth that crinkled the skin around his eyes and suddenly Anna was aware of just how attractive her companion actually was. As her pulse quickened she tried to gain control of herself with a sharp reprimand, but found her body swaying towards Harry before she could stop herself.

      Their arms touched, just a sliver of contact, but enough to cause a spark of excitement to jump through Anna’s body. Here in the moonlight, with the beautiful music from the ballroom drifting on the evening breeze, Anna felt the first surge of hopeful anticipation.

      Shaking herself, she managed to look away and as soon as she did the spell was broken. Quickly she took a step back, pretending to adjust her skirts to cover her confusion. It was the warm evening’s air, and perhaps a touch too much champagne, that had caused her momentary lapse in sanity, nothing more.

      Harry was looking at her with an amused expression and she wondered how much he’d been able to read on her face.

      ‘You should be ashamed,’ a low voice hissed behind them.

      Quickly Anna spun around, stepping back as she recognised the woman striding towards them. Before she had time to react Miss Antonia Fortescue, her spiteful stepdaughter, had stepped much closer than Anna was comfortable with, only stopping when their noses were almost touching.

      ‘Miss Fortescue,’ Anna said, her voice devoid of emotion, ‘I did not expect to see you here.’ It was the politest thing Anna could bring herself to say.

      ‘Look at you, making merry with my father barely in the ground.’

      ‘Your father died over a year ago, Miss Fortescue. My mourning period has finished.’

      Anna thought her stepdaughter might reach out and strike her at that comment, but her disdain was limited to a narrowing of the eyes.

      ‘Miss Fortescue?’ Harry asked, stepping between the two women.

      ‘Yes?’ Miss Fortescue snapped, glancing at Harry before returning her unwavering gaze to Anna.

      ‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Lord Edgerton.’

      His title, and no doubt his reputation, earned him another glance from Miss Fortescue. Anna prayed he would keep silent about their sham engagement. The last thing she needed was for her late husband’s family to find out she’d become engaged again.

      ‘I hope you know what company you keep, Lord Edgerton.’

      ‘Lady Fortescue is the most amenable of companions,’ Harry said.

      Antonia snorted, an unladylike sound that required her to screw up her nose and turn an already unattractive face into something pinched and malicious.

      ‘Your stepmother was just explaining how she gained an entire family when she married into the Fortescue clan,’ Harry said, without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Anna looked at him appraisingly—he might come across as easy-going and mild-mannered, but her companion