Lady Anne's Lover (The London List) Read Online Free PDF Page A

freckled as her face. He knew some women resorted to all sorts of concoctions in a vain attempt to remove freckles, but he had always found them rather charming.
    Mrs. Mont set a cup in front of him, as silently as he’d requested.
    “Will you join me?” he asked.
    Her eyes flashed. Sparked. They were the color of a shaded green glen, with a bit of gold fire to them. Lord, she was right—he was drunk if he thought her plain hazel eyes were doing such preposterous incendiary things. She shook her head, still mute.
    “You may speak. Tell me my shortcomings. We haven’t had a proper conversation yet, have we?”
    “I am a servant, Major Ripton-Jones. We don’t converse with our m-masters.”
    She had trouble even spitting out the word. “You do if that’s what the master wishes. You are obligated to fulfill my every need.” He tried a teasing smile.
    Out of practice judging from the look of horror on her face.
    “I am not here to do all your bidding, sir!”
    Well, this was interesting. Her fertile mind had leapt from discussion to debauchery.
    “What sort of bidding do you suppose I have in mind, Mrs. Mont?” He took a sip of tea. It was too sweet, unlike the woman—nay, girl —in front of him.
    “I’m sure I don’t know what goes on in a gentleman’s mind, Major. But I am a virtuous widow and will give no one cause to think otherwise.”
    “I am not about to assault your virtue, Mrs. Mont. I’m much too tired.”
    “Oh.”
    Did she sound disappointed? Wishful thinking on his part. He was no prize. Not anymore. He didn’t even have a proper coat to go a-wooing in.
    He was done with wooing anyway. And he didn’t have his mother’s jewels to sweeten any bargain now that Rob had apparently stolen and sold them, even if the man said he hadn’t. Gareth’s father had been a fool to give them to Bronwen, as if cold hard stones would change her mind and bind her to him.
    And Bronwen? She’d been a bitch to take them and spurn Gareth anyway.
    “Please. Sit.” If she kept standing before the glow of the stove grate he would not be able to guarantee her virtue very long. His throat dried despite the tea. Her body was illuminated beneath the thin fabric, plump thighs visible, a shadow of fox-colored thatch between them. He swore he could see the color of her nipples, pale like rose marble. Her dull brown hair seemed coppery in the firelight, loose wisps curling about her heart-shaped face.
    “I am not thirsty, Major Ripton-Jones. And I’m ready for bed. There is much to be done tomorrow and my day will start early.”
    “Take the day off.” He smiled a little more successfully as she gawked at him. “I know you’ve just arrived, and I’ve been remiss in telling you the conditions of your employment. Now seems as good a time as any.”
    “All right.” She sat down at the opposite end of the old pine table, her small hands folded in expectation. There were fresh pink calluses on her white skin. Her last place of employment must have been a picnic compared to Ripton Hall.
    “You’re to take one full day a week for yourself. I don’t care which one—that’s for you to decide. Just tell me. And if you find the need to change the day, let me know. I’ve gotten quite good at shifting for myself.”
    Mrs. Mont said nothing to contradict him. Gareth was sure she thought his housekeeping methods were sadly substandard. It was a wonder how much she’d done since she arrived, not that he really cared if the house was clean. But when he tried to sell the property in the spring before the bank took it, it would help that the prospective buyers were not totally repulsed by dust and dead vermin. The rat poison had been extraordinarily successful. He wondered if he should not add some to his gin one day.
    “You’ll have Sunday morning, of course. The closest place of worship around here is chapel, I’m afraid.”
    “I don’t attend services of any kind.”
    He raised an eyebrow and waited for an