Read Online Candace Camp by A Dangerous Man - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A Dangerous Man
Ads: Link
are you so set on Lord Neale?”
Juliana shrugged. “I am not set on him. It is just that there seemed to be…I don’t know. I cannot explain it, really. There was just something between the two of you this evening.”
“I think it is called mutual dislike,” Eleanor responded.
“You may call it that if you wish. But I have never noticed dislike putting such a glow on a woman’s face as I saw on yours tonight.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened in surprise, and she was suddenly at a loss for words. She was saved from having to respond to her friend by the arrival of Juliana’s husband and Lord Neale, who strolled into the drawing room and sat down with them.
Nicholas suggested that Juliana play for them, so she moved to the piano and played a few songs, insisting that Eleanor join her. Eleanor turned the pages for her and added her passable alto voice to Juliana’s melodious soprano. Eleanor was grateful for something to do. She would have been hard-pressed to carry on a decent conversation, the way her mind was whirling from Juliana’s words.
Her friend was wrong, of course, she told herself. If there was any special glow on her face this evening, it had sprung from anger, not any sort of interest in Lord Neale. Perhaps, she admitted, she had felt some small tug of attraction to the man when she first met him, but that had been before she talked to him, before she found out what a rude and thoroughly dislikeable man he was. And if her pulse had picked up tonight when he entered her carriage, it was only because he had startled her. It had nothing to do with his well-modeled lips or clear gray eyes.
She glanced at him as she sang. He was leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed, watching her. She stumbled on the words and turned quickly back to the music, a blush rising in her cheeks. The devil take the man!
She was careful not to look at him again.
Not long after that, Eleanor took her leave, thanking Juliana and Nicholas for the evening and the meal. She had, despite Lord Neale’s presence, enjoyed it. Neale, of course, was quick to offer his escort.
“Thank you, but it is not necessary, my lord,” Eleanor told him without any real hope that he would agree. “I can manage quite well, I assure you.”
“No doubt. But I insist.” His gray eyes gazed into hers challengingly.
“Of course.” Eleanor thrust her hands into her gloves with a trifle more force than was necessary.
She took the arm he offered and, with another farewell to their hosts, walked with him out to the waiting carriage. She allowed him to assist her into the carriage and watched, resigned, as he settled onto the seat across from her.
“Well?” he asked, as the coach rattled over the cobblestone streets. “Are you ready to answer my questions?”
Eleanor set her jaw. Her pride made her want to refuse. His very questions were an insult, and to answer them seemed to admit that he had some sort of right to question her. She hated to give him the satisfaction of explaining anything to him.
However, she had been thinking about the problem all evening, and she knew that it would be foolish to let her pride dictate to her in this matter. If she did not quash this story of his right at the beginning, she knew that he and his sister would spread the rumor all over the city. While she cared little for the opinion of the ton, she knew that this sort of story would travel into the set among which she and Edmund had socialized. She did care what many of that group thought of her, and such a rumor, once started, was difficult to dispel. Moreover, it would embroil Juliana in exactly the sort of situation in which Eleanor did not want to involve her. Juliana would, of course, defend her friend; Eleanor knew how loyal she was. And that would put her at odds with the aristocratic society in which her marriage to Lord Barre had placed her.
Above all, she did not want Edmund’s memory to be touched in
Juliana shrugged. “I am not set on him. It is just that there seemed to be…I don’t know. I cannot explain it, really. There was just something between the two of you this evening.”
“I think it is called mutual dislike,” Eleanor responded.
“You may call it that if you wish. But I have never noticed dislike putting such a glow on a woman’s face as I saw on yours tonight.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened in surprise, and she was suddenly at a loss for words. She was saved from having to respond to her friend by the arrival of Juliana’s husband and Lord Neale, who strolled into the drawing room and sat down with them.
Nicholas suggested that Juliana play for them, so she moved to the piano and played a few songs, insisting that Eleanor join her. Eleanor turned the pages for her and added her passable alto voice to Juliana’s melodious soprano. Eleanor was grateful for something to do. She would have been hard-pressed to carry on a decent conversation, the way her mind was whirling from Juliana’s words.
Her friend was wrong, of course, she told herself. If there was any special glow on her face this evening, it had sprung from anger, not any sort of interest in Lord Neale. Perhaps, she admitted, she had felt some small tug of attraction to the man when she first met him, but that had been before she talked to him, before she found out what a rude and thoroughly dislikeable man he was. And if her pulse had picked up tonight when he entered her carriage, it was only because he had startled her. It had nothing to do with his well-modeled lips or clear gray eyes.
She glanced at him as she sang. He was leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed, watching her. She stumbled on the words and turned quickly back to the music, a blush rising in her cheeks. The devil take the man!
She was careful not to look at him again.
Not long after that, Eleanor took her leave, thanking Juliana and Nicholas for the evening and the meal. She had, despite Lord Neale’s presence, enjoyed it. Neale, of course, was quick to offer his escort.
“Thank you, but it is not necessary, my lord,” Eleanor told him without any real hope that he would agree. “I can manage quite well, I assure you.”
“No doubt. But I insist.” His gray eyes gazed into hers challengingly.
“Of course.” Eleanor thrust her hands into her gloves with a trifle more force than was necessary.
She took the arm he offered and, with another farewell to their hosts, walked with him out to the waiting carriage. She allowed him to assist her into the carriage and watched, resigned, as he settled onto the seat across from her.
“Well?” he asked, as the coach rattled over the cobblestone streets. “Are you ready to answer my questions?”
Eleanor set her jaw. Her pride made her want to refuse. His very questions were an insult, and to answer them seemed to admit that he had some sort of right to question her. She hated to give him the satisfaction of explaining anything to him.
However, she had been thinking about the problem all evening, and she knew that it would be foolish to let her pride dictate to her in this matter. If she did not quash this story of his right at the beginning, she knew that he and his sister would spread the rumor all over the city. While she cared little for the opinion of the ton, she knew that this sort of story would travel into the set among which she and Edmund had socialized. She did care what many of that group thought of her, and such a rumor, once started, was difficult to dispel. Moreover, it would embroil Juliana in exactly the sort of situation in which Eleanor did not want to involve her. Juliana would, of course, defend her friend; Eleanor knew how loyal she was. And that would put her at odds with the aristocratic society in which her marriage to Lord Barre had placed her.
Above all, she did not want Edmund’s memory to be touched in
Similar Books
