Unforgiven (The Horsemen Trilogy) by Mary Balogh Page B

about partaking of such enjoyment as she felt convinced the evening’s entertainment would offer. She hoped that she might call upon her ladyship in the near future.
    Lady Hayes, Kenneth thought even before glancing at Moira’s face, had doubtless expressed no such hope, and his mother’s marble expression was discouraging, to say the least. She made no verbal reply, but merely inclined her head graciously. Sir Edwin appeared not to notice anything amiss. He thanked her profusely.
    Moira Hayes curtsied to Lady Haverford. She kept her chin up as she did so and her expression bland. His mother, Kenneth noticed, though she nodded again, did not acknowledge her guest in words or look directly into her face. The feud was not over, as far as she was concerned—or as far as Lady Hayes was concerned,apparently. It was an awkward moment, smoothed over by the good manners of both ladies.
    “Miss Hayes.” Kenneth took her gloved hand in his and raised it to his lips. It was the first time he had touched her in longer than eight years. He did not, as he half expected, feel currents of awareness sizzle along his arm to lodge in his heart. He merely had a sudden and quite unwelcome image of Baillie touching her—in bed. He wondered if the man would make a speech as he bedded her for the first time but could draw no real amusement from the conviction that the answer was surely yes.
    “My lord,” she said, and her eyes traveled all along her arm to his lips and up to his eyes. In any other woman he would have called it a practiced and coquettish look. But her eyes were cool and very direct on his. There was not even a suggestion of fluttering eyelids. There never had been. Moira had never been a flirt.
    “I trust, Miss Hayes,” he said, “that you will remember you are to waltz with me?”
    “Thank you, my lord,” she said.
    And since no other guest had yet arrived, he strolled into the ballroom with her and Baillie to walk about the room with them, introducing them to his houseguests. Although he offered his own arm, he noticed that she took Baillie’s even before that gentleman offered it. He half smiled. Ah, but she would waltz with him.
    He was surprised by the satisfaction that came with the thought. An almost vengeful satisfaction.

6

    A FEW of Kenneth’s closer relatives raised their eyebrows when Moira’s name was mentioned, but all were polite. None lived close enough to have ever been personally involved in the feud. There was certainly no lack of conversation with Sir Edwin Baillie only too eager to inform everyone that he was the baronet of Penwith Manor, they were to understand, only three miles distant from Dunbarton, and he might feel disgruntled at being outranked by so close a neighbor—he smiled about each group so that everyone might realize that he was having his little joke—were that neighbor not also a friend.
    Somehow, Kenneth discovered, before they had completed the circle of the room and before the arrival of any other guest had necessitated his return to his duties at the door, he had become escort to Juliana Wishart, who desired to promenade about theroom, one of his aunts informed him in that young lady’s blushing hearing, but could persuade no other lady to accompany her. He had bowed and responded with the obvious gallantry, of course. His aunt had looked charmed.
    And then they came to his sister, who had her back to them as they approached.
    “Helen? Michael?” he said. “May I present Miss Moira Hayes and Sir Edwin Baillie? Sir Edwin has inherited Penwith Manor. My sister and brother-in-law, Viscount and Viscountess Ainsleigh,” he added for the benefit of his guests.
    Sir Edwin bowed low and launched into speech while Moira curtsied and Ainsleigh smiled. Helen, disdain in her face, focused her gaze upon Juliana.
    “My dear Miss Wishart,” she said, cutting off Sir Edwin in the middle of a sentence, “how ravishingly elegant you look this evening. You must tell me who your