Page 5 of The Theory of Earls (The Beautiful Barringtons 1)

Definitely Hades.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to think with Welles so close to her. Everything about him was seductive, from his scent to the decadent richness of his voice. Margaret prided herself on not being just another pea-wit young lady, but even she had her limitations.

“Yes, my lord. Your assessment of my situation is correct.”

Winthrop was coming closer. She could hear his ridiculous shoes striking the pavement.

“I realize I am being presumptuous. We don’t know each other well enough for me to ask for your assistance.” She hurried her words, ignoring the way her skin was tingling from Welles’s nearness. “But I would beg your indulgence. I’ve not seen Lord Carstairs at any functions I’ve attended.”

“Miss Lainscott?” A peevish voice bellowed into the darkness. “Is that you in the wisteria? I have your lemonade.”

“Damn,” she uttered without thinking.

Welles laughed softly, more beautiful than any human being had a right to be. “Don’t worry, Miss Lainscott. I’ll make sure you get away.” Snaking an arm about her waist, he pushed Margaret deeper into the wisteria. His hand, warm and strong, flattened against the small of her back then slid down across the tops of her buttocks and squeezed gently.

Margaret gasped at his boldness.

“Don’t make a sound, Miss Lainscott,” Welles admonished. “You wouldn’t wish Lord Winthrop to spot you.” The large hand slid up to the small of her back. He gave her a gentle shove in the opposite direction.

“You’ll help me?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped out of the wisteria. “Winthrop? Are you spying on me?” Welles managed to sound imperious and outraged.

Margaret slid beneath the vines, listening to Winthrop sputter like a teapot at the implication that he’d interrupted an assignation. At least she wouldn’t have to endure him again this evening.

“Thank you,” she whispered before slipping through the gate, wondering at the wisdom of confiding her plans to Lord Welles.

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