Page 3 of Seduction of a Widow

Chapter Two

Leslie sighed and shifted in her seat. “The party has grown dull.”

Alice Langley, her friend of fifteen years, gave a low laugh. “I imagine that means you haven’t found a suitable gentleman with whom to while away the night.”

Leslie cast Alice a sideways look. With not a single gray hair on her fair head, Alice was still magnificent at the mature age of forty-five. “You know full well I don’t live up to that ridiculous reputation,” Leslie said.

“I also know you often come closer than you let on.”

“Not so,” Leslie said with a laugh, though she knew it was true.

“I would say your evening is about to get much more interesting,” Alice said.

“What—” Leslie began, then caught sight of the two men who sidestepped a group of ladies. Sir Stirling James and—

Piercing blue eyes met hers. Her heart pounded as it had upon seeing him earlier. What thick, dark brows he had. They lent his elegant, handsome face a fierceness that made her breath quicken. But it wasn’t simply the dark brows that saved him from appearing too boyish, too pretty. His eyes bore a worldly shrewdness. What could have caused that look in such a young man?

Leslie lowered her eyelids a fraction. Those eyes were too intense…too knowing. She cast a furtive glance at his well-cut, dark blue suit. Not an inch of softness in that tall, powerfully muscled body. His carriage was that of a warrior, confident and comfortable in his masculine power. Had he learned that deportment in military service?

“Who is he?” she whispered to Alice.

“Everyone knows Sir Stirling.”

Leslie scowled. “You know full well I’m not speaking of Sir Stirling.”

“Ah,” Alice intoned, all innocence, but Leslie knew her friend too well to be fooled. “That is Evan MacLaren,” Alice said.

Leslie stopped herself just in time from yanking her gaze onto the man. “Not that young privateer who captured the Zeus three months ago?”

“One and the same,” Alice replied.

“That was an eighty-gun ship,” Leslie said.

“I heard he lost not a single man on his ship,” Alice said.

Leslie gave a slow nod. “Perhaps not. But the French have a bounty on his head. He’s caused them no end of annoyance.”

“I think he’s about to cause you no end of annoyance.” Alice broke off and Leslie looked up as the two men halted before them.

“Ladies.” Sir Stirling bowed. “May I introduce Mr. Evan MacLaren. Evan, this is Lady Hilton.”

Mr. MacLaren grasped the hand Alice extended toward him and bowed. “My lady.”

Alice’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. MacLaren.”

Sir Stirling turned to Leslie and smiled. Leslie kept a neutral expression. The man was a charmer. It was a shame he was married. She felt certain he would be a great deal of fun.

“Lady Carr, may I introduce Mr. Evan MacLaren.” Sir Stirling sidestepped.

Mr. MacLaren turned to Leslie. She extended her hand. He grasped her gloved fingers. His warmth penetrated the fabric and a frisson of awareness raced up her arm.Those intense eyes locked with hers as he lifted her hand and pressed his mouth against her fingers.An all-too-familiar tingle radiated through her stomach. This young man was another charmer, and probably quite dangerous. But it would take a dangerous man to be a sailor these days—particularly a British privateer in Napoleon’s war.

Desire to learn more about Evan MacLaren flared to life. Leslie started. Such a compelling need was dangerous, for this younger son of a viscount was not wealthy. A handsome youth with no title and no money—the Zeus was a war ship filled with soldiers, not treasure, which meant Mr. MacLaren received a paltry sum from His Majesty in thanks for risking his life. He had no prospects besides improving his lot through marriage.

He released her hand and she was startled to realized she missed his warmth. Nae. She didn’t need complications. She enjoyed affairs with peers. Gentlemen who enjoyed their freedom as much as they enjoyed pleasure and luxury. The memory of a Season spent fending off ardent, false avowals of love, and promises of matrimonial bliss, made her tired. Even as a virgin, she hadn’t relished hurting a man. She would say her goodnights, go straight to her bedchambers and, in the morning, she would leave this party.

Those blue eyes still stared.

She opened her mouth to make her excuses.