Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

conversation into the stairway.” He gestured toward the doorway he’d come through. “Would that do?”
    “No.” Anyone could come upon them there, and the more unsavory of the servants would tell stories. At least in the kitchen, all staff was behind the closed door. Any servant could pass them or listen in the stairwells if they chose, but with Lady Drummond in the boughs, most of the staff would have fled for their rooms. “I suppose if you insist on being recalcitrant, we shall stay here.” She planted her hands on her hips. There was something about the man that compelled her to linger in his company. Clarice, he is too high above you in rank. Don’t dream of being friends or anything else. Not that she would. She knew better, yet a tiny part of her wished circumstances were different. “What did you want to discuss?”
    “I came here to compliment Cook on the meal. Nothing more.” A shrug pulled his jacket snug across broad shoulders. “Lady Drummond’s accident—while unfortunate—has no bearing on my visit or enjoyment of dinner.”
    She studied him then yanked her gaze from his before the hypnotic pull of those blue-gray eyes could tempt her. “Thank you, my lord. I prepared the soup as well as the trifle.” She planted her gaze on the floor. One of these days she’d remember her place.
    “Ah. And Miss Delacroix?”
    “Yes?” She forced the word out of a tight throat.
    “I meant what I said. Please look at me when I’m talking to you. I dislike downcast eyes from someone I find interesting, no matter their place in Society.”
    “Yes, my lord.” She swept her gaze to his and stifled a gasp. Speculation darkened his expression.
    “Good.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “More’s the pity I could not sample the dessert.”
    Clarice couldn’t hold back a grin. “Not unless you wanted to lick it off Lady Drummond.” She snickered as the image flitted through her mind , but then her body warmed as the picture just as quickly shifted and she replaced her employer in the fantasy scenario. She cleared her throat and shoved the thoughts away. “Be careful though. It’s said she has the tendency to be quite bitter and horrible.”
    Lord Swandon didn’t respond, merely kept his gaze fixed on her and quirked an eyebrow. Did he not condone a bit of idle prattle or did he keep his own council for lack of interest or facts?
    An uncomfortable silence sprang between them. Clarice wished for something to occupy her hands, but finding nothing except her abandoned cup of tea on the table, she scrabbled for it. Once she curled her fingers around the porcelain, she brought the cup to her lips. Lord Swandon watched her every movement with mild amusement lurking in his eyes. What did he think about? After taking a gulp of the lukewarm beverage, she set down her cup. “Would you care for a cup of tea, my lord? I can make a fresh pot.” The thought of sitting down with him to a proper cup of tea gripped her mind. Would he partake of niceties like chatting about the weather or the political climate of England, or would he pass the time in grim silence like so many of his contemporaries—not that they would ever condone taking tea with a servant stuck between classes.
    “No thank you, Miss Delacroix. I’m quite content for the moment.” He pushed off the wall and came a few steps closer to her. “I’m puzzled by something. Would it be terribly indecent of me to speak my mind?”
    “I don’t see why not. After all, we’re both conducting a conversation here. Outside of you throwing me onto the table and having your way with me, we haven’t done or said anything untoward.” Heat swept into her cheeks at her frank speaking as well as the idea. Never before had a man interested her in that way despite her mother teaching her the finer points of how to flirt with a man or touch him in a manner designed to tease. “I mean, it’s not as if we don’t have an