Page 2 of Once Tempted

He wished he’d known about the length of Chase’s interest in the woman before he’d agreed to the wager.

Although, when he considered the matter further, a flirtation by Frederick, an intentionally unconsummated pursuit, might be just the thing to spur Chase to win the widow this time round.

Whether that led to matrimony or not was out of Frederick’s control.

However, he could certainly help prod him along and speed up a courtship. He might even enjoy this more than seducing a sure thing.

Since Humphrey Chase had made no move toward the woman yet and was, in fact, standing by the punch bowl with his back to the room. Frederick boldly strode toward the women’s circle and effortlessly insinuated himself between the widow and Miss Minerva Chase. “Ladies, may I say how lovely you all look tonight? We are blessed, us poor men, to be surrounded by such elegance.”

The ladies blushed and fanned themselves furiously, exclaiming that he was too kind. He increased his compliments to include their hair, gowns and wit. But when his gaze fell upon Minerva Chase, the only spinster in the room, he balked at flattering her.

One did not flirt with a best friend’s sister. Even harmlessly.

Brothers tended to be fussy about that sort of thing. Duels and forced marriages were often the result. Though there was much he could say in her favor—elegance, intelligence, and patience in putting up with her brother’s dithering about—he kept those thoughts strictly to himself.

Valuing his life and friendship, he said she looked very well, too, and then turned his attention to the widow on his other side. “My sincere condolences on your recent loss, Mrs. Franks. I hear your husband was a fine man.”

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured. “I do miss my beloved Sidney so.”

“I’m sure you do. I’m sure you always will,” he promised solicitously.

Skirts brushed his calf, and he looked around quickly. Minerva Chase had fled the group, headed directly for the refreshment table.

He winced.

There really was nothing wrong with Minnie Chase. She was a sensible woman of an age similar to his. She never complained, always smiled.

In time, she would forget his lack of praise. Minnie never seemed to hold a grudge. She had readily forgiven five potential beaus who had married other women. In fact, she remained on good terms with them, and their eventual wives. She was the most amiable female of his entire acquaintance.

Yet as he watched her swallow down a glass of punch and accept a second helping, he felt bad about what he hadn’t said in praise of her. She went on to join another group at some distance from where he stood, but they were standing about in pairs and seemed not to notice her arrival.

When she moved on to yet another group, he felt guilt stab him in the gut.

He could have declared her dark hair shone like molasses in the candlelight, and that her figure, while disguised by too much thick muslin, was something men might like to hold close. If they were not friends of her brothers. Yet, what was the point when nothing could come of such talk?

The widow Franks bumped into him, and he looked down to see her standing much closer than she had been before. “Do you always bestow such glowing compliments on ladies, sir?”

“Not always, but often,” he confessed, amused by her obvious attempt to gain more flattery. “Perhaps we might exchange compliments over a glass of punch?”

Her lashes fluttered, and her smile was triumphant. “I should like that. The refreshment, too.”

“Then follow me,” he murmured, offering his arm.

He strolled with Mrs. Franks toward the refreshment table and procured a glass of punch for her with a gentlemanly flourish, which made her laugh. He stood back and watched her take a first sip as if she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.

Mrs. Franks licked her lips slowly as she looked up at him under pale lashes. “Oh, this is divine. I wonder what’s in it.”

“Peach nectar, spice, and freshly pressed apple juice,” Minnie Chase said, squeezing into the gap between them to reach the punch bowl. She helped herself to another cup. “It’s a perfectly ordinary concoction you can make yourself, Mrs. Franks.”

Frederick glanced at Minerva in alarm, fearing trouble from that quarter. Yet she was grinning from ear to ear as she sipped her punch, and he exhaled in relief because, for a moment, he thought he was dealing with a jealous female.

But that could never be Minerva Chase. She was never out of sorts or cross or jealous, and she had hardly paid him any special attention or encouragement over the years of their acquaintances.

“I’ll beg the recipe from you now before I forget,” Mrs. Franks whispered to her, but her eyes devoured Frederick.

“I’ll write it out for you before you leave,” Minerva answered, taking another sip, clearly unaware that she’d interrupted a seduction. “Oh, this really is our best batch yet.”

She finished her glass and this time, helped herself to another, splashing more outside the cup than she served into it. She giggled and glanced up at him, seemingly surprised to see him still standing there. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you want some, too?”