There was no mistaking Major Reynolds. The scar was livid across the left side of his face, stretching from temple to jaw. He was a soldier; that was clear as he escorted Gussie across the dance floor. It wasn’t just the military cut of his clothes, it was the way he held himself, the unconscious air of authority, the alertness with which he scanned the room, the hardness of his mouth and eyes. A dangerous man.
A dangerous manIsabella looked away. She tried to concentrate on Lucas Washburne’s conversation.
“The ogre comes,” a lady murmured behind her, and smothered a laugh.
Irritation surged in Isabella’s chest. That word—ogre—was her fault, but the spreading of it was purely Sarah Faraday’s doing. Wretched, wretched woman.
“Isabella, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Major Nicholas Reyn
