When the countess took a step back, Gideon’s breath caught, and his head felt as if it would float away. Miss Sagewick could only be described as exquisite. Her dark hair was piled high on her head and hung in ringlets that touched the nape of her neck. She had a heart-shaped face, well-formed lips, and high cheekbones. And Gideon doubted he had ever seen a more remarkable beauty in his life.
She was not a debutante, but neither was she a spinster. He was more than certain they had never met—he would have remembered being introduced to such a beauty—but her name had a familiar ring to it. He just could not place a finger on where he had heard it before.
“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Sagewick,” he said with a bow. “Please, have a seat.” He indicated a nearby sofa and chairs that had been set up in the corner of the ballroom for his guests’ comfort. Perhaps he had known how few people would attend after all. And their subsequent ages.
“Thank you, my lord. I shall.”
A fire erupted in Gideon. Her voice was a contraction, for it was soft like a caress but had an underlying strength to it. A feather lying upon a stone was the only image that came to mind. But what excited him most was the twinkle of mischievousness in her deep-blue eyes. This woman had a story to tell.
