The Landlord's Black-Eyed Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

love them.”
    Elizabeth tossed her head and favored each of her would-be suitors with a dazzling smile, all the while thinking that London’s beaus were really very little different from the Dales’. Put any farmer in satin breeches and ingeniously clocked silk stockings, paint his face and prettify his speech, and who could tell the difference?
    Charles Beresford approached, accompanied by an imperious-looking matron and a young man.
    â€œMay I introduce Lady Avery and her nephew, Roger,” Charles said. “I mentioned them to you before. They are the ones who so recently had that unfortunate incident with the highwaymen.”
    â€œThe ruffians took my purse,” Lady Avery said, “and all my jewelry, except for my wedding ring. And then the larger of the two, a veritable Hercules, had the effrontery to kiss my hand.” She looked rather pleased.
    â€œThey also took Lady Avery’s copy of Castles of Doom. ” Beresford sounded indignant.
    â€œPerhaps they are fans of yours,” Lady Avery said, her eyes crinkling with amusement. She led Elizabeth toward a hallway escritoire, then thrust the second volume of Castles into her hands. “When you autograph this, would you refer to the theft of your novel? I’m dining with the King and Queen tomorrow, and I believe they will be amused by the anecdote.”
    â€œIt was actually all quite dreadful,” Roger whined, as Elizabeth dutifully opened the book to its title page and began writing. “Though I suppose crime is common nowadays. Remember when the Prince of Wales, the Prime Minister, and the Lord Chancellor were robbed in broad daylight in the West End, and the Lord Mayor was held at pistol point at Turnham Green?”
    Elizabeth didn’t remember. Furthermore, she didn’t care who robbed whom, so long as they left her alone. Signing her name with a flourish, she returned the book to Lady Avery.
    â€œI trust the blackguards will soon be apprehended,” muttered Beresford. “But as far as I’m concerned, hanging is too mild. I agree with that pamphlet we published a few years back, Hanging Not Punishment Enough. We should brand and torture lawbreakers, then force them into a life of servitude on a plantation.”
    â€œI personally found both highwaymen quite dashing,” said Lady Avery. “At my age, the loss of a few trinkets seems a small price to pay for any adventure.”
    Fearing offense, Beresford quickly agreed. After mopping his brow with his ever-present handkerchief, he placed his hand on Elizabeth’s arm and whispered, “Everyone is enchanted with you, my dear.”
    Elizabeth heard his words, but they didn’t register. Beyond Lady Avery and her pompous nephew, Elizabeth had just spied the most extraordinarily attractive man. “Damn,” she breathed.
    â€œDid you say something?” Beresford asked.
    Had Elizabeth been describing her reaction in one of her novels, she would have used words like “thunderstruck” and “heart palpitations,” or perhaps her heroine would have fainted at the sight of the stranger’s dark good looks. Elizabeth didn’t swoon or blush or cry out, but she did feel light-headed. No. Light-headed was too sedate a description. Stunned was more apt. Yes. Stunned.
    Far away, Beresford’s voice dipped and soared, but Elizabeth could not hold onto it. She felt as though the stranger’s gaze was probing the deepest recesses of her soul, and she shivered.
    Beresford broke off mid-sentence. “Are you cold, my dear?”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “I just thought I recognized someone I knew.”
    How peculiar, she mused. London—nay, all of England—was awash with handsome men, and she had glimpsed many a pleasing face. So why did she feel as if her stays were too tight and each breath a struggle? And why had she said that the stranger appeared familiar? But he was familiar. Perhaps he