Anne Barbour Read Online Free PDF

dark hair swung tantalizingly about her exquisite face, which featured a pair of huge eyes, the color of hyacinths in full bloom, thickly fringed with long, sweeping lashes. Her classically formed nose was perfection itself, and her mouth was a sweetly curved, eminently kissable, pink bow. With a surprised glance at those assembled, she moved forward with the lithe grace of a young queen.
    “Fellowes told me we have visitors,” she said, and in her voice, thought Simon dazedly, could be heard the melodious chime of distant bells. Advancing into the room, she extended her hand. “You must be Lord Simon,” she murmured. Her celestial gaze traveled about the room to come to rest with mild curiosity on Marcus, who stared in frank appreciation. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward with an outstretched hand.
    “Allow me to introduce myself, Miss Timburton. I am Marcus Crowne, Simon’s friend.”
    “Oh, my,” chirped Miss Burch. “How silly of me. Lord Simon, may I present Miss Winifred Timburton? And this”—she turned a meaningful gaze on Winifred before gesturing to Marcus—”is the Viscount Stedford.”
    The emphasis placed on the latter phrase was unmistakable, and Marcus blushed. Winifred blinked. “How very pleased I am to make your acquaintance, my lord.” Her smile was nothing short of incandescent, and now it was Marcus who blinked. “Tell me,” she asked Marcus, “do you reside in London?”
    “N-no,” was Marcus’s stammered response. “I live in Kent.”
    “Oh.” Winifred dropped the young man’s hand and turned away from him to Simon. “We were not expecting you so early, my lord. I am sure my cousin Jane has made you comfortable, though.” Her attention strayed, coming to rest finally on the table where the trays rested. “Oh, good, food. I’m simply famished.” In a fluid motion, she hurried to the table and in a moment, with a sandwich in each hand, she turned to survey the little group.
    “Did you have a pleasant journey?” she asked. And without waiting for an answer, continued somewhat irritably to Simon, “Mister Soapes says that you do not live in London, either.”
    As Simon uttered a startled assent, she turned again to Marcus. “Will you be staying long, Lord, er, Steward?”
    “That’s Stedford, ma’am,” replied Marcus somewhat stiffly, “and no, I do not plan to stay but a week or so.”
    “Oh, no,” said Winifred calmly, her incredible blue eyes wide and ingenious. “Now that you are here, we’ll need you for much longer than that.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Marcus asked blankly.
    “What the devil.. . ?” began Simon.
    Winifred swung about to face her companion, her eyes sparkling. “Isn’t this famous, Jane? Now we have Lysander and Demetrius!”
    “Oh.” said Miss Burch. “Ah. Yes, well, perhaps, but—”
    “Who?” asked Marcus.
    “What?” echoed Simon.
    “Lysander and Demetrius,” replied Winifred with a brilliant smile. “You two will be perfect, I should think. That is ...” She paused, then asked anxiously, “Have you ever acted before?”
    Marcus and Simon shot each other a wary glance as two people might who find themselves stranded in a lunatic asylum. Miss Burch stepped forward.
    “Lysander and Demetrius are the two main male characters in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” She tittered. “Dear Winifred plans to mount a production of the Bard’s play here at Selworth.”
    “Does she?” asked Marcus, fascinated.
    “Yes,” said Winifred with pretty enthusiasm. “It’s a delicious comedy, and so popular. With the lovers’ mix-ups and the fairies and the magic in the forest, I think it a perfect choice for country entertainment. But I am having such trouble putting a cast together. Reverend Mycombe and his wife have promised—well, almost promised—to be Theseus and Hippolyta. I shall play both Titania and Helena, and I am still searching for Hermia. I had almost decided I’d have to have Jack Bridges and Tom Dillon