The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella Read Online Free PDF

adorable before, but the description suited hers. The rest of her was not at all adorable. The ugly dress and the shawl she’d been wearing had disguised a lush body that was better suited to a woman with a scandalous name—Delilah, Bathsheba, or Desdemona.
    With her father standing beside him, Lochley dared not allow his gaze to drop below her nose, but his brief glimpse of her from across the room told him Miss Caroline Martin had a body that would seduce and entice any man.
    “Mr. Lochley despaired of soiling his coat,” Miss Martin said with a contemptuous glance at him. “I wore an old dress that was no worse for the dirt.”
    Lochley bowed to her. “You are too kind to me, Miss Martin. Even if I’d had to soil the coat—a travesty, as it was made by Weston—I should have insisted you refrain from muddying your dress. It was not the behavior of a gentleman, and I hope tonight begins to make amends.”
    “There are no amends necessary.”
    Lochley would have objected, but Mr. Martin cleared his throat. “Are you in Hemshawe for long?”
    Only if his father refused to listen to reason. “Not long.”
    “We are attempting to persuade Mr. Lochley to extend his stay through the Hemshawe Fair,” Miss Gage said. “I would so like to suggest he replace Mr. Greenleaf as the judge in the wine-tasting this year.”
    All four Martins seemed to startle and turn their gazes intently upon him.
    Lochley held up a hand. “I am certain the committee will have plenty to say in the matter.”
    “You know wine, sir?” Mr. Martin asked.
    “A little.”
    “Don’t believe it,” Gage said. “He knows wine and knows it well. In fact, he chose the wines we’ll drink at dinner. I trust they are excellent.”
    “And do you know English wine?” Martin asked.
    Lochley wanted to say he’d rather not know most English wines. “I am more familiar with the French and Italian varieties. Do you have an interest in wine, Mr. Martin?”
    “We have a small vineyard,” Matthew Martin put in. “We produce pinot noir, as do most of the vintners in Kent.”
    “Now my brother demurs,” Miss Martin said with a smile. She had a wide, somewhat carefree smile. “The Martin family has won top honors at the Hemshawe Fair for the last fourteen years. Our pinot noir is the best in England.”
    “I do not doubt it,” Lochley said with nod. Considering the appalling English wines he’d tasted, the title was not much contested.
    “Shall we go in to dinner?” Miss Gage asked, taking Lochley’s arm. He led her to dinner, disappointed that he’d been seated between Georgie and Mrs. Martin. Miss Martin was near Bertie—lucky devil.
    The dining room was a vast improvement upon the drawing room, in Lochley’s opinion. One of the newer additions to the Friar’s House, it featured crown moldings, elegant cream and light green paneling, and a large window festooned with green and gold draperies. The chairs were quite comfortable and the table large enough to accommodate the party without the guests having to knock elbows.
    His wine selections were roundly approved and applauded. Fortunately, he had not selected a pinot noir for the evening, so there was no awkwardness. Lochley tempered his wine consumption throughout the meal. He found for once he was more interested in the conversation—mostly that between Miss Martin and Bertie—than the food and drink.
    The problem was he could not hear most of their conversation, which meant he was forced to give Mrs. Martin and Miss Gage opinions on lace and parasols. As he had none, he simply agreed with each in turn.
    Finally, dinner ended and the men retired. Ridiculous custom, really. He would have preferred to spend more time with the ladies. Silently, he willed Bertie to cut short the port and cigars. But Gage ignored him, and the conversation turned to one banal topic after another.
    “I must say, Lochley,” Mr. Martin said after some time, “you do know your wine. The selections tonight were