The Marriage Bargain by Michelle McMaster Page A

his arm out and motioning them ahead.
    “My dear, may I present the earl and countess of Whitcomb.”
    Her husband’s hand touched her lower back, steering her toward their hostess and her spouse.
    “She’s lovely, Beckett.” The aged noblewoman smiled, offering her hand to Isobel. “Wherever did you find such a treasure?”
    “You know what they say about treasure, countess. One always comes across it buried in the most unusual places.”
    Their hosts eyed each other, shaking their heads.
    “Beckett, you are still the charmer, I see.” The countess laughed. “I hope you can handle him, my dear.”
    “I will certainly try, Lady Whitcomb.” Isobel smiled and made her curtsies as Beckett made his bows.
    They passed through the outer doors and into the ballroom. From behind her, Beckett put his hand on her elbow and leaned around to whisper in her ear. “There—you’re through the first assault of this ballroom battle. Stay sharp, Lady Ravenwood. This is where it gets interesting.”
    Beckett led her through the crowd, introducing her to so many viscounts, marquesses, earls, and even a few dukes, she knew she’d never remember all their names. Finally, he turned away from her to speak to a round little admiral with enough medals on his chest that it was a surprise he didn’t topple over.
    Isobel felt a man’s hand on her arm. Startled, she whirled around to find Alfred close beside her, though she couldn’t stop a little squeal from escaping her lips.
    “Terribly sorry,” Alfred said. “Forgive my appalling manners, Lady Ravenwood. I did not mean to frighten you.” Languidly, he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Beckett asked, turning away from the admiral. “Trying to woo my wife, are you?”
    “Why, yes, actually. She is the prettiest woman here.”
    “You’d better watch your tongue, Alfred. If you insist upon shamelessly flirting with my wife in such a manner, I may have to box your ears,” Beckett said, but he was smiling at his friend.
    “Hah!” Alfred scoffed, good-naturedly. “I’d like to see you try, old man. Until then, I shall admire Lady Ravenwood’s stunning beauty to my heart’s content.”
    Isobel blushed as Alfred pressed his lips to her hand.
    “Might I ask the lovely creature to dance, Beckett?” Alfred inquired.
    “You might.”
    Alfred performed an elaborate bow for Isobel’s benefit, his mischievous dark eyes shining up at her.
    “Lady Ravenwood, would you do me the honor of accepting my request for a dance?”
    “I’m afraid I am not a very good dancer, Alfred,” she warned.
    “Wonderful. Neither am I!”
    But he was a good dancer. He guided her gently and helped to cover up her mistakes as they moved across the ballroom. Isobel swirled around and around, letting the music make her feel light as air.

    The room spun around her as Alfred expertly maneuvered them through the crowd. Lord Weston was like the older brother she’d never had, for his embrace was strong, kind and protective. Isobel felt weightless as she danced in the glow of the candlelight, but Alfred’s touch didn’t make her skin tingle as Beckett’s touch did. She glanced over at her husband.
    For a moment she forgot everything. For a moment, as she met those intense blue eyes across the room, she felt real, unexpected happiness.
    Less than a week ago, she would have thought it impossible to feel anything but fear. Had it all really happened? Right now, in this ballroom, the memory of Sir Harry and her flight from him seemed only a bad dream.
    She would not think of it! She couldn’t. Not here. She was safe now, surely. Sir Harry Lennox would never have her or Hampton Park. He would never be able to make her his bride, now that she was another man’s wife.
    Isobel stole another glance at Beckett and saw his gaze upon her—a penetrating mixture of ice and fire.
    Yes, she was certainly another man’s wife. Instantly, the memory of their