The Spare Read Online Free PDF Page B

beneath, did not fit as perfectly as Fitzalan's but his shoulders were no less broad for the imperfection. Above the waistcoat, the plain front of his shirt begged for less sober lace. His boots, though shined to brilliance below the turned-down tops, set no example of London fashion. No one who saw him walking down the street would think him an aristocrat.
    Hair cropped unfashionably close to his head revealed a stubborn and determined physiognomy, a man who knew what he wanted and took it. Gauntness defined the ridge of his cheekbone more than nature intended. Every feature could be marked in the portrait. Except, to England the sea returned not the youthful lieutenant of near-legend, but a man fully grown and in command of himself. There was no denying his striking looks, but it was his air of assurance, Olivia decided at last, that set him apart.
    Tiern-Cope stared at them as if they were furniture in his way, a look devoid of welcome or interest. He was thirty, which for a man was still young. Though in truth younger than Andrew, he seemed a thousand years older and where Andrew wore his emotions on his sleeve, the captain was about as easy to read as a block of granite.
    Diana leaned forward, hiding her face behind her spread-out fan. "James, you're such an awful liar."
    Olivia didn't see how anyone could have heard that soft exclamation over such a distance, but she felt a ripple of awareness come from the earl. He swept the room and each of its occupants in ruthless assessment. Olivia fancied his gaze lingered when it reached her. Her hair, of course, which she knew from long experience was coming free of its pins. Everyone who saw her for the first time stared at the shocking copper curls. His glance, and that was all it was, ended almost before it began, which was to be expected. If there was anything good to be said about her position in life, it was that her lack of rank afforded ample opportunity to study people. Olivia considered herself a student of knowledge gained through observation.
    "James." A slow curve of his mouth brought no warmth to his eyes. He bowed, rather stiff and more to the left than the right. Diana smoothed her skirt. Miss Cage fluttered her fan and turned pink. Feminine hands went to curls or lace, adjusting and readjusting. The gentlemen stirred. One or two tugged on their waistcoats. Despite the flurry of activity on his behalf, the earl's expression did not soften.
    Olivia frowned, disappointed, which she realized was unfair of her. The good people of Far Caister, herself included, knew more about the naval career of Captain Sebastian Alexander than they did about Admiral Nelson. Andrew had been so full of life, a cheerful man who rarely lost the opportunity to relate his brother's exploits in the highest of terms that she hadn't expected a joyless man whose mouth refused to move beyond the facsimile of a smile he wore right now. Olivia wondered if he'd ever truly smiled in all his life. Probably not. How sad that Andrew's brother should have no joy in him. How disappointing. After all those tales of courage at the line of battle Olivia had constructed a very different picture of the man. A girlish, romanticized ideal that, of course, had no relation at all to reality.
    "Good afternoon," the earl said.
    "Lord Tiern-Cope," said Fitzalan, bowing. Any trace of his usual good humor vanished with the serious business of introducing the earl. "You remember my sister. Miss Diana Royce."
    The captain—no, Olivia reminded herself, the earl—walked to Diana with a stride that put her in mind of an animal; the vicious sort with sharp teeth, relentless energy and boundless hunger, which was an odd impression to have of a man so recently and sorely wounded. Heavens, what must he be like at full health?
    "Miss Royce," said the earl, taking Diana's hand and pressing it between his. His voice flowed over the room like silk over stone. Here stood a man used to giving orders and having them followed. And