A Matter of Class by Mary Balogh

By Mary Balogh

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The light was behind her. He could not swear that her cheeks were aflame, but he guessed they were. Certainly her eyes widened. " she exclaimed. " He regarded her lazily and guessed that a sizable number of the ball guests were already fully aware that they were on the balcony together, he and Lady Annabelle Ashton, and that they were holding hands and standing rather indecorously close to each other. How very foolish high society was. It was quite willing to condone almost any vice, provided it was performed discreetly and privately.

Her father, who had always indulged her and loved her, had been hurt, and he was not going to forgive her in a hurry. And now, less than a week before the nuptials, they—Annabelle and her parents—had been invited to take tea with the Masons and a few members of their family who had come to town for the wedding. Annabelle's father was determined not to go. But Mama put her foot down, something she rarely did, though it was almost always effective when she did. "Mr. Mason's money is good enough for you, William," she was saying sharply on the day the invitation arrived, as Annabelle set her hand on the drawing room door to join them, "and his son is good enough for your daughter, even if only as a punishment.

He stood a couple of feet from her and did just that, letting his eyes roam over her from head to toe. "You grew after all,” he said, and he smiled his slightly lopsided smile—it was gorgeously attractive—and she knew he did not just mean that she had grown upward. She had been a late developer. Even at fourteen she had still looked like a beanpole. " "I certainly have been kissed," she said, bristling. He grinned. " he said. "How many times? And by whom? " "By Jamie Sewell," she said triumphantly.

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