Amanda Scott Read Online Free PDF Page B

straight, was overlarge for beauty, and his chin was far too prominent and firm for his expression easily to appear conciliating. His breadth of shoulder, however, was unexceptionable, and his figure, though large, was trim and pleasing to the eye.
    His lips were pressed together in a rueful grimace, but he recovered himself quickly and grinned at Emily, his teeth flashing white and even, his face changing dramatically. Indeed, she thought, he looked for a moment much like her brother Ned had looked when he had, as a boy, got into one of his frequent scrapes and hoped she would help him explain it all to Papa.
    “Forgive my bad manners, Miss Wingrave,” he said, clearly assuming that there would be no difficulty about that. “I was out of sorts and, in fact, had no anticipation of receiving a visit from a member of the fair sex. This chamber rarely enjoys the privilege of serving as—”
    “I saw Oliver,” Miss Wingrave said, seeing no good purpose to be served by submitting herself to long, windy, albeit polite periods and every reason for getting directly to the point. “I realize that the moment is not a propitious one”—she glanced around, noted a straight chair near one wall, and pulled it forward, dusting it with her lace handkerchief and sitting down, talking all the while—“but I have heard so much, you see, and since Sabrina wrote to request my assistance, which is why I am here, after all, I can see no advantage to be gained through procrastination. In effect, my lord, I have determined that the quicker we put our heads together, the quicker matters will be suitably resolved.” Noting that he still stood and that he no longer looked either apologetic or amused, she added graciously, “Won’t you sit down, sir? Perhaps you might begin by telling me what subject it was you raised with Oliver just now that put you both so much out of temper. If we discuss the matter thoroughly, no doubt we will soon discover where you went awry.” Folding her hands primly in her lap, she regarded him expectantly.
    Meriden opened his mouth and shut it again. His brows snapped together and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he returned Miss Wingrave’s look with an ominous one of his own. For a long moment, silence reigned in the little office. Finally, in a commendably even tone, the earl said, “Would you mind explaining to me just what business this is of yours, Miss Wingrave? I seem to have missed a step somewhere.”
    “Do sit down, Lord Meriden,” she repeated. “You are entirely too large to pace in an area so crowded as this is, and I shall not be the least bit intimidated by your looming over me like some predatory creature, I promise you.”
    With no indication that he did so to oblige her, Meriden perched on the front corner of his desk, rather closer to Emily than—for all she had said to the contrary—was commensurate with her comfort. Firmly suppressing a desire to move her chair back a foot, she forced herself to wait for him to speak.
    “You have not answered my question,” he said calmly.
    “Nor you mine, sir,” she pointed out. “And I asked my question first.”
    “Now, look here, my lass—”
    “I am not your lass, sir, despite your obnoxious behavior at Woburn Abbey last Christmas, and I take leave—”
    “So that still rankles, does it?” He grinned again. “I wondered. ’Twas only a wager, Emmy love, nothing more. You behaved as though you’d been stung, not merely kissed.”
    Repressing an errant thought that the kiss had been anything but mere, Emily lifted her chin and said scathingly, “To sweep a lady off her feet and carry her under the mistletoe to steal a kiss before a roomful of jeering people, and all for the sake of a stupid wager, is not the behavior of a gentleman.”
    “You had been behaving as though the rest of us had some dread disease—those of us who had the misfortune to be men, if not gentlemen. The temptation, Emmy love, was irresistible.”
    “You were