Cheryl Holt Read Online Free PDF Page B

insignificant heartaches and loneliness quietly rested. He seemed to know things about her that no one else had ever guessed. The sensation was disconcerting, but new and interesting, and therefore welcomed at this period in her life.
    Did he look at all his women that way? Was it a special gift he had? Was that why he was so popular with the ladies?
    Perhaps he made them all feel that he saw something unique and special that no one else had ever noticed. She herself had come away from their appointment with the particular impression that they shared a distinct affinity, that she could tell him secrets she would never have dared speak to another, and because he understood her so well, he would neither judge nor condemn . . .
    More carriage wheels sounded below, and she jumped toward the window, furtively glancing into the street just as the knocker banged on the front door. Though she had retained a woman to do minimal cooking and cleaning, Abigail had arranged it so that the servant would never be present if Mr. Stevens came to call, so there was no one to answer. Her hand fluttered to her throat, and she physically stopped herself from making such a silly motion. She’d never been a
flutterer
, and she wasn’t about to start now.
    Taking a deep breath, she headed for the stairs and started down, relieved that he had arrived promptly, thus saving her from endless minutes of further torment. At thebottom, she paused briefly by the mirror, making a last check of her appearance.
    The dark green dress she’d chosen for their afternoon engagement was simple but elegant, with a high neck and long sleeves. She had spent hours agonizing over what to wear, finally deciding that the rich color and plain style would help her to appear serene and self-possessed. Since she was neither, she appreciated aid from any corner, hence the unassuming gown.
    Her hair was neatly braided and pinned up on her head, her cheeks rosy from the past hour of fervent pacing. All in all, she looked quite fetching, which made her more certain of her intentions.
    With a trembling feeling coursing through her body, she forced a smile, then reached for the door and opened it.
    “Hello, Mr. Stevens,” she said, encouraged to discover that she sounded calm and collected. “I’m so glad you decided to join me. Do come in.” She stepped aside to allow him space to enter.
    In his perfectly tailored light blue coat and snug-fitting tan breeches, he was more handsome than she recollected. His snowy white cravat was perfectly tied, his tall black boots buffed to the brightest shine, and he appeared to be a gentleman out taking an afternoon stroll. There wasn’t the slightest hint that he was an earl’s bastard, that his mother was a woman of supposedly low moral character, that he made his living by owning a gaming establishment. Gallant and refined, he seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea of meeting an unknown woman for a few hours of sexual discourse.
    As he moved inside, wonderful masculine aromas, of fresh air, horses, and tobacco, filled the foyer, and she couldn’t prevent a sudden flight of feminine fancy from creeping over her, which made her feel she was welcoming him home.
    What would it be like to have a man as part of her life, to wait impatiently, ready to greet him after his long, hard day? Up until this instant, she hadn’t realized she’d missedhaving her own husband and family. Perhaps the peaceful years she’d passed in the country had lulled her into a false sense of personal serenity.
    He carried a brown satchel, a sort of portfolio, made of soft leather. The flap was tied at the front with a black ribbon, and she tried to avoid showing any overt curiosity. As he began to remove his outerwear, he held on to it with one hand. His eyes never left hers as he did so, and she hung his damp cloak on a peg next to the door, rested his hat on a nearby chair. There was a closeness generated from handling his belongings that she enjoyed