Lady Silence Read Online Free PDF Page B

scowled at her ploy, even as he
interpreted her gestures. She was telling him she would move about
as quiet as a mouse. In short, she was begging not to be exiled
from his library.
    When, fascinated by the uniqueness of the
exchange, he did not respond, she tried again, holding her palms in
front of her face, pantomiming the reading of a book. Again, the
great green eyes, peeping over her fingertips, pleaded for his
understanding.
    “ I have no objection to your reading,”
he pronounced, “but you must select your books when I am not here
and you must read them elsewhere.”
    The girl drew a deep breath, her whole body
taking on a pugnacious stance. Her right hand flayed the air,
sketching agitated lines.
    He almost laughed out loud. The minx! And
when was the last time he had felt like laughing? He forced his
wavering features back into a frown. “From what Mapes and Mrs.
Tyner have told me, you don’t know one end of a feather duster from
the other, so kindly do not try to fool me into thinking you are
needed to keep my library clean.”
    She was shockingly lovely, he thought as he
waited for whatever argument she would think of next. Wisps of pale
gold curls, escaped from the mass tied schoolgirl fashion at the
base of her neck, framed an oval face marked by a patrician nose
above a pink and inviting mouth. The emerald eyes were flawless,
intelligent and penetrating; her skin classic English perfection.
In short, a picture to warm a man’s dreams.
    And his bed.
    That was it, of course—the reason he was
banishing her from the library. He was being noble, eschewing
temptation. For his sake, as well as hers. Seducing the servants,
most particularly his mama’s companion, was scarcely the act of an
officer and a gentleman.
    A blur of movement, and she was beside
his chair—on her knees, blond head bent, shoulders shaking. She
seized his hand. Damon froze. He hated tears. Had, in fact, abandoned all
emotion. Caring, loving, feeling anything at all, was far too
painful. His homecoming had, for a short time, broken his resolve,
but Lady Silence would not. Indeed not.
    The colonel shoved back his chair and stood.
Grabbing the supplicant by her forearms, he settled her, none too
gently, in his place at the desk. He picked up the quill, shoved it
toward her hand. “I am told you can write,” he said, “so write down
your name and where you come from. And why no one has asked you
long since,” he added under his breath, “I cannot even
imagine.”
    What! By God,
the chit was crossing her arms over her enticingly ample breasts.
Once again, her lips had become a straight line. She was refusing to write? Refusing a direct
order? “I fear Lady Moretaine must have been mistaken,” he told
her. “I see you do not know how to write.”
    The girl’s swan-like neck stretched taller.
With superb disdain she took the quill and wrote on the paper he
had thumped down before her: “You are a beast and a bully!”
    Spoiled, by God! The girl was in sad want of a few sharp lessons in conduct.
Which he wouldn’t mind administering.
    Time enough to think of that later. “If I am
a beast and a bully,” he informed her with scarcely veiled triumph,
“then you understand why you must stay out of my bookroom.”
    Her lips quivered. This time he feared the
tears might be real. Or were they simply temper? The little baggage
did not like to lose.
    “ How old are you?” Damon
demanded.
    That she was
willing to answer, penning a clear, precise “18.”
    And, suddenly, his belligerence drained away.
He was Damon Farr, country gentleman, heir to his brother, the Earl
of Moretaine. He was currently engaged in bullying a young woman
ten years his junior, who also happened to be a member of his
household staff. He might pay her wages and have the right to order
her about, but he did not have the right to stand over her,
glowering, demanding that she tell him her life story.
    Well, perhaps he did. But his temper had
flown, and he was