The Secret to Seduction Read Online Free PDF

table.
    “Coincidentally, he does have that particular weakness in common with His Majesty,” the earl said, and smiled at her.
    That smile had washed the carefulness and boredom right from his face, and the stark beauty of it was as startling as a slap. Sabrina’s eyes flew wide. And then she quickly looked down at her plate again, an attempt to regain her composure.
    “And do you enjoy life in Tinbury, on the whole, Miss Fairleigh?”
    So he hadn’t quite finished with her yet, then. She wasn’t entirely a fool: she doubted a man who lived in London would be terribly interested in life in Tinbury.
    She looked up at him again, braving that handsome face. “It’s quiet and very pleasant,” she said politely. “I should be content there for the rest of my life, if I did not also hope to do some good as a missionary in a faraway land, perhaps in Africa. I should like to help others less fortunate, you see, as a missionary.”
    “Helping is indeed commendable, Miss Fairleigh.” The earl raised his glass to her.
    How would you know? She was tempted to ask.
    “Missionary is a wonderful position,” Wyndham volunteered somberly.
    Mary was beaming at Sabrina, apparently proud she was the subject of the earl’s praise.
    But Sabrina wondered why Signora Licari looked so very amused, her sable eyes bright as lit candles. She might be a country girl, but she didn’t particularly enjoy being the subject of mirth she didn’t quite understand. Particularly from this beautiful woman.
    Compassion, she reminded herself.
    “Speaking of helping, I should like another helping of pork,” Wyndham said cheerily.
    After dinner, Sophia Licari was importuned to sing. The request came from Mr. Mumphrey, and was humbly delivered.
    Signora Licari placed a delicate index finger against her chin and tilted her head, her eyes going abstracted. Pondering the question, perhaps.
    “I do not think tonight,” she pronounced at last, as though she’d been asked to predict whether or not it might rain.
    And so instead Mr. Mumphrey set about playing the cello and Mrs. Wessel played the flute, and a pleasant little Bach composition that Sabrina recognized floated out over the grand drawing room. But no one seemed to be obliged to simply sit and listen. The other members of the party took up quiet pastimes. Mary and her husband had agreed to play cards with Signora Licari and Mr. Wyndham, but Sabrina had never learned the game they were playing, so she decided to read instead, in the room with everyone else, because it seemed the companionable thing to do.
    She had found a comfortable chair, and had fetched the Maria Edgeworth book.
    She’d read two pages when she’d looked up to find that the earl had settled down at a small, elegant desk very near her, a quill between his fingers, foolscap spread before him.
    Instantly, for some reason, it seemed more difficult to breathe. It was as though he took up more air than the usual person, and so there was less of it to breathe now that he was near. Or perhaps it was just that the air seemed sharper, somehow, like the air outside when they’d arrived this morning.
    He seemed to take as much notice of her as he did the lamp on the desk as his quill began to dance over the page. So Sabrina ducked her head and began to read again.
    She’d only managed to get to the bottom of the second page when some sort of disturbance in the atmosphere caused her to look up.
    He was staring at her. Directly, unblinkingly, fixedly at her.
    Good heavens, but his eyes were astoundingly blue.
    She smiled tentatively.
    His expression didn’t change. He, in fact, didn’t blink.
    “Are you…are you writing a poem?” she ventured.
    The earl blinked then. And the faintest of creases appeared between his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite place how he knew her, or was surprised that she would dare to speak to him at all. As though a dog or a cat had just asked him about his poetry.
    “Why, yes.” He sounded mildly amused.