A Gentleman Never Tells Read Online Free PDF

for dinner and eating seven courses. I have never been comfortable in polite society, despite Father’s decision to trade my happiness for a title.”
    â€œYou’re giving his actions the worst possible connotation. Papa genuinely thought that Adrian would not be able to resist you.”
    Lizzie snorted.
    â€œWhen it became clear that Adrian preferred Shady Sadie, particularly after he boasted all over town about the birth of his son, Papa was devastated. He had bet on the fact that Adrian would find you irresistible, and he lost.”
    â€œI can’t imagine why he ever thought that plan would work.”
    Cat sat down beside her again. “Because you’re beautiful, dear, even if you don’t see it.”
    More than anything, Lizzie wanted to return to the warm nest of her little blue bedchamber back in London. After Adrian’s mother died, she had the back bedroom renovated and made it her own.
    No more lying in a matrimonial bed that had never, even for one night, held more than one body. Luckily for her, the distant cousin who inherited Adrian’s estate had no interest in the house; she paid him a nominal rent.
    But she had promised to stay with Cat for at least a fortnight. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll stay. But no matchmaking. Perhaps I’ll join you at dinner.”
    By the time the evening rolled around, she was deep in her book. Eveline’s ancient fiancé had taken himself off to the Crusades, leaving his future bride vulnerable to kidnappers.
    Lizzy didn’t come down to dinner.

 
    Chapter Five
    O LIVER ENTERED THE drawing room that evening with a mission. He meant to apologize to his hostess, and after that . . . well, after that, he meant to persuade Lizzie Troutt to eat her supper. Or at least enough to support a grown woman.
    Not such a large goal.
    When he was upstairs bathing—­and later, when he was yelling at Hattie for fibbing about the dates of the house party—­he couldn’t stop thinking about the little droop at the corners of Mrs. Troutt’s lush mouth. The way her cheekbones were drawn tight.
    It wasn’t right.
    Unfortunately, the lady was nowhere to be seen, but Lady Windingham was standing by the side of the room, talking to the butler.
    He walked over, discovering that his hostess was eating olives, one after another, as if they were grapes. The girls were seated beside her, chattering between themselves.
    â€œIf you’ll forgive me,” he said, bowing, “I wonder if I might have a private word.”
    â€œWhy don’t we take a promenade?” She said, tucking her hand into his elbow. “At least it will stop me from eating every olive in the house. Do you ever find yourself craving one type of food so much that you would kill for it?”
    â€œNo,” Oliver said. He had the sudden, absurd thought that he might kill to see Lizzie Troutt naked.
    â€œThis room is so monstrously large,” Lady Windingham said cheerfully, “that I tell my husband we should set up a permanent cricket pitch at one end, though we’ve only got as far as the occasional game of croquet so far.”
    Croquet indoors?
    He pushed the thought away. And, for that matter, the question of what Lizzie Troutt would look like, naked and in his arms. “Lady Windingham, I accepted your invitation to this party, because I have long wished to apologize for my horrendous behavior when you debuted, years ago. I was, and remain, horrified at my dreadful attempts at being clever.”
    She grinned at him. “Do you know, Mr. Berwick, if a certain gentleman had not backed away from his marriage proposal due to the notoriety of Mr. Darlington’s nicknaming me the ‘Wooly Breeder’—­for Darlington long ago confessed to creating the label—­my father would have married me off before the season was over?”
    She paused.
    â€œIt would not have been a