Read Online As Luck Would Have It by Alissa Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

nodded once in a supremely military sort of way that had Sophie smiling. It was something of a wonder to see the unmistakable glow of respect in Mr. Peabody’s eyes when he turned to look at his wife. He wasn’t just tolerant of her opinion, he was proud of it. A rare man indeed. And by the look she favored him with in return, a rare match.
    For some reason Sophie glanced at Alex to see his reaction, only to discover he was already watching her, his emerald eyes unreadable. Sophie wasn’t certain if he had been paying attention to the Peabodys at all.
    His intense gaze made her feel tingly all over, her lungs tight, her heart racing. In an effort to distract herself, she quickly turned back to Mrs. Peabody.
    “Did you have a chance to meet any natives, ma’am?” she inquired, not at all certain she had spoken in a voice loud enough to be heard. It was terribly difficult to determine what might be an appropriate volume with her blood rushing in her ears.
    Mrs. Peabody didn’t seem to notice her distress, and Sophie dearly hoped she wasn’t alone in that. “I did, my dear. But only a few, and there are a great many Indian tribes. And they are as diverse as any nations could be. Some of their customs I find appalling, others fascinating. Did you know, for instance,that in some tribes, a woman can be trained as a warrior along with the men?”
    “Female warriors.” Mr. Jarles snorted with disgust. “Savages, just as I said. Lacking even the sense to keep their women at home as nature intended.”
    “How is it that you are so sure that is what nature intended, Mr. Jarles, and not man?” Sophie asked.
    “Don’t be daft, girl. I’ll not insult the ladies by speaking of indelicate topics, but suffice it to say, females are referred to as the weaker sex for a reason.”
    “Quite right, husband,” Mrs. Jarles chirped.
    Sophie ignored her and spoke directly to Mr. Jarles. “It is my understanding that every soldier has his own strengths and weaknesses. True, my arms are not as muscular as a man’s, but I’ll wager my fingers are a good deal more nimble.”
    Mr. Jarles snorted for what seemed like the dozenth time, and Sophie began to wonder if the man was capable of making conversation without the porcine sound effects. “Exactly my point,” he scoffed. “Nimble fingers indeed! What good is that, I ask you? A fine hem won’t keep Napoleon from knocking at our gates, now will it? Civilization depends on the strength of our men. War cannot be waged with nimble fingers, my girl. We need soldiers strong of body, and leaders strong of mind.”
    “Here, here!” some idiot cried. She was too annoyed to bother discovering who.
    “I question the strength of anyone’s mind who would insist that war is a more civilized pursuit than embroidery,” she returned.
    Mr. Jarles turned an unfortunate shade of red, but whether it was from embarrassment or temper, she would never know.
    “Dinner is served.”
    Alex, pointedly ignoring the still fuming Mr. Jarles, stepped forward to take Sophie’s arm. There would be a wait. Like all dinner parties, the pro cession into the dining room held all the pomp and circumstance of a military parade, and the ritualappeared to be a new one for Sophie. He could see she was trying to hide a smile. And failing miserably. She faced studiously ahead, but her eyes darted furtively about the room and her lips kept quirking in the most adorable fashion. Or perhaps adorable wasn’t the right word.
    He had watched the unfolding scene with more interest than he had felt at a dinner party since…well, since ever, that he could recall. Oh, once or twice he’d been angry enough at Mr. Jarles to seriously consider planting the man a facer, but he suspected the chivalry of the act would be lost on Sophie. What’s more, it had become readily apparent that she didn’t require defending. Sophie Everton, he realized, was an extraordinary lady indeed. She didn’t know it, but two of the gentlemen