Surrender to the Earl Read Online Free PDF Page A

because even as Miss Collins spoke to him about the countryside or London or the friends they might have in common, he kept glancing at Mrs. Blake and wishing this dinner over. And that probably didn’t help Miss Collins’s disposition, but he wasn’t exactly feeling charitable toward her. At last the ladies retired to the parlor, and the men remained behind to drink and smoke and plan the schedule for their shooting party. Robert had little to add, except to quietly agree he might give them some competition if they challenged his shooting. They all seemed so . . . young, even though several were near his own age. Perhaps “young” was an incorrect word; “naïve” was probably better. Except for a jaunt to France or Italy, none of these men had traveled the world or risked their lives. All took their families and way of life for granted. Robert couldn’t blame them, since he’d once felt the same way.
    But now he’d experienced the wait before battle, when one looked to each side and wondered which fellow soldier—friend—would survive. He’d experienced the joys of triumph, and the terrible, hollow sadness of death, and knowing one bore responsibility. He’d been hungry and freezing—he’d almost lost several toes in the Afghan mountains when they’d first taken over Kabul. But that had been the worst of his injuries. He’d felt almost miraculously incapable of being harmed. And perhaps that had saved him, but not some of his friends.
    A udrey heard Blythe enter the parlor rather than the drawing room to await the men, and she knew that meant a musical evening at the piano. Audrey didn’t blame her for wanting to display her talents; it was expected of a young lady.
    But soon Audrey wished she’d fabricated an excuse to check on something in the kitchen. Blythe was full of icy silence. Audrey couldn’t guess what she was doing until she heard Blythe curse under her breath. Needlework—she always pricked her finger when she was upset.
    She didn’t know why her sister was so agitated after her voice and laughter had filled the dining room. After hearing Lord Knightsbridge’s occasional chuckles, she’d felt a momentary worry that her family would coerce the earl to their side. But then she remembered his sincere wish to help her, the widow of his fellow soldier. Could she trust in that?
    Audrey retrieved one of her embossed books from a shelf and began to read. The letters were large and raised, but she still had to move her fingers across slowly. Though she’d read this one many times, embossed books were expensive, and she didn’t have easy access to her money. Usually Molly read aloud to her from the library, and the two of them had enjoyed exploring the world of books together.
    Blythe’s unending silence saddened as well as frustrated her, and at last she had to speak. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself with Edwin’s shooting party, Blythe.”
    “I am.”
    At least she’d answered, even if her voice was clipped and angry.
    “I thought the guests seemed to take pleasure in the meal.”
    “Trying to earn a compliment, Audrey?”
    Audrey sighed. “I was making polite conversation, which might be all I ever have with you. It makes me sad.”
    Blythe made no response, and for the millionth time, Audrey wished she could see her expression. They suddenly heard a door being thrown open, and a genial burst of laughter from the men as they crossed the entrance hall.
    The men swept into the room in a rush of exuberance, their very presence a powerful wave of maleness Audrey had never experienced. She was usually asked to retire to her room when her brother had company. But not this time. She had Lord Knightsbridge to thank for that. She was able to experience all their deep voices, the many scents of cologne and perspiration, the movement of air as if the young men couldn’t stand still in anticipation of their hunt.
    Someone bumped her leg, and she heard a young man say, “Forgive me,