Читать книгу From Ruin to Riches - Louise Allen - Страница 2

He was clad in a close-fitting swallowtail coat and skin-tight silk evening breeches that between them left very little of the gentleman’s well-muscled form to the imagination.

Julia glanced casually around the room and managed to register, in profile, tanned skin, an arrogant nose, a very decided chin and long dark lashes which were presently lowered either in deep thought or terminal boredom.

The knot of apprehension which had been lodged uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach all evening tightened. I know you. Which was impossible: she could not have forgotten this man. I know you from my dreams. He shifted, restless, as though he felt her scrutiny, and then, before she had the chance to move away, he turned his head and stared right into her face. And he was studying her with eyes that were the amber of a hunting cat’s, the deep, peaty gold at the bottom of a brandy glass.

They were the eyes she had last seen burning with scarce-suppressed frustration in the face of a dying man. The eyes of her husband.