Read Online In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) by Maggie Robinson - Free Book Online Page A

good with a pistol.”
    He looked startled. “Are you really?”
    Louisa nodded. “Papa had a gun collection.” She wasn’t going to tell him
why
she’d found it necessary to familiarize herself with it.
    “You are full of surprises, my dear. Off you go. Find me a valet in your travels, although I’m sure between the two of us we can manage to get me dressed. I take it all I need to do is turn on the taps for hot water?”
    “Yes. Rosemont has all the modern conveniences.”
    “What a treat.
À bientôt,
Louisa.”
    “You don’t speak French, Maximillian.”
    “Surely a word or two would not go amiss,
ma belle.
” He winked and gave her a very warm smile.
    Oh dear. Charles Cooper was turning into Maximillian Norwich right before her eyes and she wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to resist her “husband.”

Chapter

    8
    L ouisa had found a ruddy-cheeked young footman who had made Charles as presentable as possible—which, Charles had to admit, was very. The mirror told him he’d never looked more elegant. Hell, he’d never been elegant in his life, not even in uniform.
    Elegance wouldn’t get him very far with his brothers. If they saw him now, they’d howl with laughter, then decide to beat him up for rising above his station again. Though they were all much older now—maybe bloodshed wouldn’t be called for. In any event, it was this faux elegance that would keep them comfortable in the future—not only would they have Charles’s salary, but they could sell off all the posh clothes.
    Charles twisted a worn gold signet ring Mrs. Evensong had thoughtfully provided in his Norwichian trousseau. There was a horned bull and sheaves of wheat, indicating what he hadn’t a clue. A Latin phrase was inscribed beneath, too faint to make out. He’d have to ask Louisa what his family motto was—“Bread for All”? “Hung Like a Bull”? He chuckled at his inanity and gazed out the window as he waited for Louisa to emerge from her dressing room.
    It was full dark, so he really couldn’t see a thing, not even any stars over the sea. The vast blackness suited his mood. But soon he’d have to turn on the charm. He hoped he remembered how.
    Louisa had listed the cast of characters who resided at Rosemont—not that he had kept them straight. There was the flirtatious middle-aged American cousin Isobel, who was more pathetic than predatory. The dragon aunt Grace and her feckless son Hugh, who apparently wasn’t at home. A small crew of other relations and connections, all much older than Louisa. She’d said she had a lonely childhood, although with the number of people in the house, Charles could not imagine how.
    He supposed one could find lots of quiet corners in a house this size to escape from annoying relatives. There had been no such escape for Charles when he came home from school holidays. After a while, he simply stayed at Harrow with the boys whose families were in India or some other exotic destination.
    He’d had exquisite privacy in the modern bath this afternoon, with plenty of hot water piped in. The rest of the house was not as up-to-date, the furnishings harking back to the era in which it was built half a century ago. No one had thought to retrofit it with an electric circuit, either, as far as he could tell. The sitting room was lit by a profuse combination of oil lamps and candles, but it was still damned gloomy. Or so he thought until Louisa cleared her throat behind him and he turned.
    She was in blond lace that matched her hair exactly. Unlike so many of the fashions of the day, the dress hadn’t an extra ounce of flounce or trim, but it didn’t need any. Louisa was poured into it, and its severe lines emphasized her narrow waist and abundant bosom. Her shoulders were bare, bands of puffed and pleated lace serving as sleeves. There were pearls and topazes around her long white throat and pinned into her hair. She was, quite simply, the most breathtaking beauty he’d ever been near