Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] Read Online Free PDF

looked sound as a ripe peach. He glanced meaningfully at Bastian and the boy took the hint.
    "Mama, may I present Lord Charrington? He's staying at Hartwell. Sir, this is my mother, Mrs. Rossiter. "Then he looked between them anxiously. "Did I do that right?"
    "Perfectly," said Leander, and was rewarded by a touch of warmth in the widow's expression. She held out a black-gloved hand. "My lord."
    He took it making rapid inventory. She was above average height so her lovely eyes were almost on a level with his own. Her dark hair was now firmly tamed under a plain black bonnet. Other than those eyes, her face was unremarkable except for a hint of roundness in the cheeks. He suspected there'd be dimples if she ever smiled. The roundness and the eyes gave an impression of youth that most women would envy.
    Perhaps that illusion of youth was what suddenly made him feel protective, or like a knight errant come to rescue the lady in the tower. He was drawn to her. He wouldn't at all mind taking her to wife. Should he seize the moment?
    To achieve anything, he needed to keep her in conversation. Presumably the easiest opening would be the dear departed. "If I may be so bold," he said, "I assume you to be related to Mister Rossiter, the poet."
    "That is so," she said without particular warmth, most of her attention on her children, who were walking ahead. "I am his widow."
    "A sad loss. Please accept my condolences."
    "Thank you."
    She was clearly not thrilled by this conversation. The children had run off to investigate the shallows of the river, and she moved to follow them.
    Leander went along. It was refreshing that she wasn't blushing and simpering at first acquaintance, but he found that for once in his life he was struggling for something to say. "This is a beautiful churchyard in which to take his final rest."
    She glanced at him. "It is indeed a charming spot, my lord, though I can see no reason, sentimental or spiritual, why the dead should be supposed to care."
    As she walked on, Leander realized he was making a fool of himself. Clearly, no matter how deep her grief, the widow was not to be reached by the sentimental route. For a moment he was annoyed by the absurd situation in which he found himself, but then he smiled and adjusted the tilt of his elegant beaver.
    By her cool behavior the lady had passed the last test. There was nothing about her he found objectionable.
    The wisest course now would be to seek some conventional way of courting her, but that could be difficult. Beth had told him the widow took no part in county life, and had little free time. He wanted all this settled so he could get on with his plans. He couldn't spend months hanging around Surrey.
    Why shouldn't he just press his suit? He was, after all, the one who had managed to pacify the Duke of Brunswick after he had been insulted by one of the minor Bourbons, and was flirting with the idea of throwing his state behind Napoleon. Persuading a penniless widow to become a countess should be child's play.
    Still, he hesitated.
    He hesitated, he realized, because he cared about the outcome. There was something about this composed woman which made him want to know her better, and ease her way in life. He was attracted to her children.
    Good God, he actually wanted to marry her!
    She stopped her stroll and glanced back at him. A slight smile tugged at her lips. "Should I apologize, my lord? I fear I shocked you."
    There was the faintest hint of dimples.
    She was referring to her comment about the dead. He walked to join her. "No," he said, "but I fear I am about to shock you."
    A flicker of wariness passed over her face and she glanced once at her children, made a move toward them.
    "Please," he said quickly, "I'm not going to do anything you wouldn't like... Good heavens! Would you believe I was reputed to have a golden future as a diplomat?"
    She relaxed slightly, and her lips twitched. Those dimples flickered once again. He conceived a strong desire to see