Rhyme and Reason Read Online Free PDF

serene as his, she said, “Mayhap you should as lief consider it my father who owes you such a debt.”
    “Excellent idea! It makes an uncomfortable beginning to any friendship to have outstanding obligations.” He offered his arm. When she hesitated to put her fingers on it, he said, “If this is an inconvenient time for you for you to give me a tour, Miss Talcott, I can return at another time to visit your garden.”
    “Of course it is not inconvenient. I would be delighted to show it to you now.” She looked away before her face could reveal the truth hidden by her trite words. She found the idea of Lord Wentworth calling again troubling. As troubling as the thought that he wished to be her friend. That he would show any interest in her family beyond her father’s skill—or lack of it—at the card table surprised her.
    Lord Wentworth drew her fingers within his arm as they walked together down the stairs and out onto the sunswept terrace at the back of the house. Setting her wide-brimmed straw bonnet back onto her head, although she did not have to fear the sun as her blond sister must, she motioned along a brick path to where the roses were bursting into bloom.
    “How lovely!” he said.
    She glanced at him, startled by the abrupt change in his voice. Gone was the cynical good humor. In its place was a genuine appreciation that amazed her anew. Nothing she had heard suggested Lord Wentworth would be interested in anything that could not be shuffled, dealt, and gambled, save for the light-skirted ladies whose names were so often attached to his. She frowned. Heeding gossip was an invitation to misconception.
    He bent to look more closely at the flowers. His intense expression was so different from the ironic smile he had worn this morning.
    “My special favorite is the white one,” she said quietly.
    “I can see why.” He tilted the prickly vine toward him so he could better view the velvety petals which were the color of fresh cream. “The lush collection of blossoms on these bushes bespeaks the time you devote to your garden, Miss Talcott.”
    “’Tis quiet here.” She took a deep breath of the air that was perfumed by the roses. “I find I sometimes need to seek a sanctuary from the hubbub of the Season.”
    “That I can understand.”
    She paused as they continued to walk among the flowering shrubs. “You can? Again you surprise me, my lord.”
    “Why?” His smile vanished, and, as she saw the intensity in his gray eyes, she wondered if she were seeing his true feelings for the first time. “A Season in London is enough to make one all about in one’s head. I speak from experience, for I have endured too many.”
    “Yet you have come to Town for this one.”
    “Enjoying the flats alone is meager sport. Anyone with an ounce of skill at cards is here now, so I, by necessity, have followed.” Bending to examine the purple buds on a row of peonies, which were about to blow, he said, “I can see you have a singular gift for growing flowers, Miss Talcott. I would enjoy speaking with you about—”
    “Emily!”
    Emily turned. She waved to Miriam who stood in the doorway. Miriam’s tawny curls were half hidden beneath her white turban, the beads upon it matching the ones on the bodice of her Clarence-blue cambric gown. With ecru ruffles beneath her chin and at her wrists, she was the perfect picture of a lady ready to welcome her guests. Miriam raised her hand, then froze, her gaze affixed on the man beside Emily.
    “Miriam, do come out and join us,” Emily said, as if every day she entertained Lord Wentworth in the garden. Her sister took only a single step onto the terrace before halting. Exasperated, Emily added, “Lord Wentworth, if you have not had the opportunity to meet my sister, allow me to introduce her.”
    “I have not had the opportunity, so this will be a pleasure.” He glanced once more around the garden, and Emily thought she heard him sigh. He added nothing else as they went