The Mistress of Black Grove Manor Read Online Free PDF

from the sofa, “I’m sure I’m in good hands. Now if you will excuse me gentlemen I’m going to retire.”
    “Good night Imogen,” Charles smiled wide, “Tomorrow we begin.”
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    Imogen climbed into her bed.  She was feeling more than tired, but when she closed her eyes, she saw Charles kneeling in the dirt, a Cheshire grin on his face.  He looked as smug as the cat that ate the canary, and she felt as though she was would be his next quarry.  There was something strangely compelling about this Jack the lad. These new and unfamiliar feelings were uncomfortable and as much as she had Mrs. Tinsely to confide in she wished that Rebecca was there to guide her.

Chapter Seven
     
    Charles was filling a plate from breakfast trays on the sideboard as Imogen entered the dining room. “Why are we eating in here,” she asked.
    Charles spun nearly dropping his plate, “Good lord, you scared me.”
    “I usually have breakfast in the kitchen. Why are we in here?”
    “Well as Jonathon said, you’re not a shop girl anymore.”
    “What does that have to do with breakfast?”
    “That means breakfast is as good a time as any to teach you how the gentry behave.” He pointed to a book beside the tea pot, “That’s for you.”
    Imogen picked it up to read the title. ‘The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness by Florence Hartley.’ “It tis rather large isn’t it?”
    “I found it in the library; every woman should have one. He pulled out a chair to sit, “I hope it’s of use to you.”
    She set down the book and took to arranging her breakfast plate before sitting across the table from Charles. He took a long sip of coffee as he stared at Imogen picking at her sausage and eggs. In the few weeks of his stay, she had grown under his skin. She was stunning, naive and innocent of all the games women he was accustomed to played. A little bird, that’s what she brought to a mind. A timid little creature, fragile in all ways. Her modest femininity intrigued him. The way she fluttered about the manor, oblivious of her beauty, made him feel things he hadn’t for some time.
    A part of him wanted to keep her sheltered in this country manor, far from the frivolities and foolishness of London’s society and its strict, rigid rules of conduct. Yet, another part wanted to open her up like a flower and taste her. He watched her as she brought the spoon up to her mouth, she had an innate grace and fluidity to how she moved, and it intoxicated him.
    Jonathon came in for his breakfast and drew his attention from Imogen.  “Good morning all,” as he took his seat. “How is everyone this fine morning?” Charles nodded as he raised his cup of coffee, “Morning chap.”
    “Good morning Jonathon,” chirped Imogen. “It was a lovely morning until I received this,” she pointed to the rather thick etiquette manual, “I’m beginning to realize just how difficult a feat it will be to become Lady Rhodes.”
    Jonathon picked up the book, “Where did this come from?”
    “Charles found it in the library.”
    “Well Charlie, aren’t you the clever one.” He took a bite of his breakfast and set down the fork, “I will be leaving this afternoon and should return by the weekend. I’m looking forward to seeing your progression love.”
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    Love? This was the first time Jonathon had referred to her as anything but Imogen. It stirred something in her. Just last night she had laid her head on the pillow thinking of Charles, now she was feeling a twinge in her stomach and having notions of Jonathon. She watched the men carefully as they conversed over their morning meal.
    Charles was closer to her in age, attractive but cocksure. His humor and cheek were not unlike boys she had met at village fairs. They would chase the girls, tease them and run away. He was, in fact, running from a girl presently. Who was this Miss Townshend? She imagined a smartly dressed young woman who