It’s time for Monday Excerpts! Let’s do the first instance in your hero’s point of view. Don’t forget to post your buy links.
Damon Hawksworth lounged against a convenient pillar in Lady Cowper’s crowded ballroom. A glass of wine dangled from his fingers. Directly across from him, another brittle smile appeared on Miss Margaret Featherton’s normally happy countenance. Her latest suitor, the Earl of Tarlington, was nowhere to be seen and had not been for the past two days or so. Rumor had it that he had gone to the Continent. The only question Damon had was whether she had given the man his congé or if it had been the other way around. He rather thought something had occurred to cause her to break it off with Tarlington. His godmother would know. If anyone knew the inner workings of the ton, it was Almeria Bellamny.
Ever since Rupert, Earl of Stanstead’s wedding, when Damon’s she had introduced him to Miss Featherton, he had developed a fascination for the lady. Her intelligence was sharp, and several times he had seen her hold back a witty retort. Her beauty was not at all in the usual mode. Her mouth was too wide for the current fashion, yet it complimented her high cheekbones and finely arched black brows. Her thick, dark chestnut hair almost begged him to run his fingers through her tresses as they tumbled down. Yet for some reason, the feature he was most fond of was her completely straight nose with a rounded tip. More importantly, she was poised beyond her years. He doubted she had ever been a missish young lady. Even when they had argued over an interpretation of poetry, she had always appeared in complete control and secure in her knowledge.
Now, her polite smile belied the look of despair in her blue eyes. It was as if she was slightly adrift and was only going through the motions until she could retire to the country. Well, with Tarlington gone, Damon wasn’t fool enough to wait until some other gentleman snatched her up. He would gladly rescue her and help her on the path he wished for them. Dancing was a start. She would have held the best sets for Tarlington, and now they would be Damon’s.
Pushing himself off the pillar, he handed his glass to a passing footman and crossed the room.
“Miss Featherton?” He bowed. “Would you by chance have a free dance?”
Her beautiful eyes, the color a mountain lake, were shadowed, as if she hadn’t slept much recently. “You may have the supper dance, my lord.”
“I am honored.” He bowed again before taking his leave.
This was worse than he’d thought. Whatever had happened between Tarlington and Miss Featherton, she was not unaffected, and that was an unwanted dilemma. Damon would have to see how the set went before he formulated his strategy for winning her.
Now it’s your turn to show them what you’ve got!!