Read Online Lady in Green by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bárbara Metzger
Tags: Romance
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stately quadrille brought him statuesque Lady Moira Campbell, aspiring widow of a spendthrift Irish laird. Lord Gardiner hardly noticed the speculative gleam in the widow’s hazel eyes, his own blue eyes firmly fixed on her low neckline. It left little to the imagination. His creative mind subtracted the rest.
Another waltz, and his hand was at Miss Compton’s tiny waist. Two hands could span it, Gard estimated, two hands that could stroke and caress the Pocket Venus till she reached Olympus.
The boulanger, Miss Beaumont’s legs. The lancers, no. He’d embarrass himself on the dance floor with that image. So Ross drifted through the bastion of the upper crust, mentally undressing every doyenne, dasher, and debutante right down to their drawers. He floated toward the refreshments room, picturing them all in their altogethers. Shifts, chemises, petticoats disappeared like magic in his mind’s eye. Laces, ribbons, buttons went flying through the assembly rooms. Alabaster flesh came tumbling out of corsets. Acres of velvety skin lay yearning for his touch, posed for his pen and pad, poised for his pleasure.
Lord Gardiner ate three pieces of stale cake with such a wide grin on his face that his mother was picking names for grandchildren. His friends were shaking their heads at the next benedict. Bets were being made on which of the lovelies had caught his interest, since he’d not danced twice with any of his partners. Every one of those partners was sure the earl’s glorious smile was just for her. Every one was right.
By the time Countess Stephania was ready to leave, Gard was so randy, he leapt into the family carriage next to her and ordered Ned Coachman to spring the horses. Stopping at Gardiner House only long enough to call out his curricle, he kissed his mother’s cheek, told her what a delightful evening he’d had, and that he’d be sure to accompany her next week. Foggarty was waving a vinaigrette under the dowager’s nose when Ross hurtled into his curricle. He nearly ran over an urchin, a mongrel, and a streetlamp in his eagerness to get to Laurel Street.
Foresight was everything. That afternoon he’d counted on a night at Almack’s being such a bore that he’d deserve a reward. Instead, it was such a…stimulating evening, he thanked his lucky stars for Corinne.
He’d thought to share his first night at a new place with an old friend. Not Cholly. He sent an invitation to Corinne Browne, an occasional lover who was rarely too busy to answer an invitation from a warm-blooded, deep-pocketed earl. As soon as her affirmative reply came, Gard sent a messenger to Laurel Street. Tuthill was to pick up Corinne at her rooms, rooms that often smelled of other men’s colognes, to the earl’s displeasure. Not tonight. Tonight Corinne would be waiting in his own rooms, just for him. Life was sweet.
*
“Did Miss Browne arrive?” Ross asked the housekeeper, who must have been waiting for his knock, she answered the door so promptly.
“Yes, a few hours ago. She decided to wait upstairs. You said to make your guests welcome, so I offered her some wine. Was that acceptable?”
“Perfect. You are a jewel.” He was already on the stairs. Not even the depressing sight of Mrs. Lee in her yards of black could dampen his enthusiasm.
“Mrs. Tuthill made a supper for you and the young lady,” she called after him. “Filet of sole stuffed with mushrooms, duckling in oyster sauce, and a trifle.”
“That sounds delightful. Thank Mrs. Tuthill for me.” He took another two steps.
“I saw no reason for Aunt Henny to stay up, my lord. I hope I did right?”
“Fine. Whatever. You know best.” He started to loosen his neckcloth.
“The supper is keeping warm on the stove. Shall I serve it now?”
“Deuce take it, no! That is, please hold it for later, Mrs. Lee.” He took the rest of the stairs two at a time, tearing at his shirt buttons. Gard never even felt the housekeeper’s scornful glance. If looks
Another waltz, and his hand was at Miss Compton’s tiny waist. Two hands could span it, Gard estimated, two hands that could stroke and caress the Pocket Venus till she reached Olympus.
The boulanger, Miss Beaumont’s legs. The lancers, no. He’d embarrass himself on the dance floor with that image. So Ross drifted through the bastion of the upper crust, mentally undressing every doyenne, dasher, and debutante right down to their drawers. He floated toward the refreshments room, picturing them all in their altogethers. Shifts, chemises, petticoats disappeared like magic in his mind’s eye. Laces, ribbons, buttons went flying through the assembly rooms. Alabaster flesh came tumbling out of corsets. Acres of velvety skin lay yearning for his touch, posed for his pen and pad, poised for his pleasure.
Lord Gardiner ate three pieces of stale cake with such a wide grin on his face that his mother was picking names for grandchildren. His friends were shaking their heads at the next benedict. Bets were being made on which of the lovelies had caught his interest, since he’d not danced twice with any of his partners. Every one of those partners was sure the earl’s glorious smile was just for her. Every one was right.
By the time Countess Stephania was ready to leave, Gard was so randy, he leapt into the family carriage next to her and ordered Ned Coachman to spring the horses. Stopping at Gardiner House only long enough to call out his curricle, he kissed his mother’s cheek, told her what a delightful evening he’d had, and that he’d be sure to accompany her next week. Foggarty was waving a vinaigrette under the dowager’s nose when Ross hurtled into his curricle. He nearly ran over an urchin, a mongrel, and a streetlamp in his eagerness to get to Laurel Street.
Foresight was everything. That afternoon he’d counted on a night at Almack’s being such a bore that he’d deserve a reward. Instead, it was such a…stimulating evening, he thanked his lucky stars for Corinne.
He’d thought to share his first night at a new place with an old friend. Not Cholly. He sent an invitation to Corinne Browne, an occasional lover who was rarely too busy to answer an invitation from a warm-blooded, deep-pocketed earl. As soon as her affirmative reply came, Gard sent a messenger to Laurel Street. Tuthill was to pick up Corinne at her rooms, rooms that often smelled of other men’s colognes, to the earl’s displeasure. Not tonight. Tonight Corinne would be waiting in his own rooms, just for him. Life was sweet.
*
“Did Miss Browne arrive?” Ross asked the housekeeper, who must have been waiting for his knock, she answered the door so promptly.
“Yes, a few hours ago. She decided to wait upstairs. You said to make your guests welcome, so I offered her some wine. Was that acceptable?”
“Perfect. You are a jewel.” He was already on the stairs. Not even the depressing sight of Mrs. Lee in her yards of black could dampen his enthusiasm.
“Mrs. Tuthill made a supper for you and the young lady,” she called after him. “Filet of sole stuffed with mushrooms, duckling in oyster sauce, and a trifle.”
“That sounds delightful. Thank Mrs. Tuthill for me.” He took another two steps.
“I saw no reason for Aunt Henny to stay up, my lord. I hope I did right?”
“Fine. Whatever. You know best.” He started to loosen his neckcloth.
“The supper is keeping warm on the stove. Shall I serve it now?”
“Deuce take it, no! That is, please hold it for later, Mrs. Lee.” He took the rest of the stairs two at a time, tearing at his shirt buttons. Gard never even felt the housekeeper’s scornful glance. If looks
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