Read Online Lord Barry's Dream House by Emily Hendrickson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Hendrickson
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it is quite the latest design—an improvement on the old.”
Edmund looked down at her innocently beaming face and found he simply could not tell her that he hated the dratted thing and that he wished it was in any house but his own. Now, if the architect had been a man, he could have expressed himself forcefully, and the blasted buffet would have been sent on its way to buffet heaven.
“I see,” he replied lamely. The buffet stayed. He was defeated. He could admit it, but not without a sigh. “Well, regarding this shower bath you mentioned earlier. I was under the impression I was to choose if I wished one.” That rankled him, and how he longed to berate her with a tongue blistering. But she was a lady, more’s the pity.
“Come with me, and I will attempt to give you an idea as to how it will be,” Juliana said with eagerness. “I think that once I explain it to you, it will seem most excellent.” She omitted the news of the fractured piece of marble. With any luck at all the replacement ought to be here in a couple of weeks—perhaps sooner.
Lord Barry followed her up the stairs, avoiding the chunks of wood and piles of sawdust in his path. When they reached his dressing room, she walked over to where pipes emerged from the plaster wall at slightly above his height. She had not pointed them out when they were here before, hoping to see the marble in place first. Now there was no reprieve.
“Now stand right here,” she commanded nicely, positioning him where he would stand beneath the flow of water. Never mind that she found the touch of his arm beneath her fingers to be shocking, yet enticing. “See, the water will come out from this pipe, and below it will be cocks with which you may regulate the flow.” She touched one of the two smaller pipes that protruded slightly from the wall. “Think of it—no more footmen carting buckets of water up and down the stairs whenever you wish to cleanse yourself. It is far more practical and agreeable. Believe me, one day every house in England will have such convenience.”
They were alone again, and Edmund found he had to concentrate on the matter at hand to avoid having his thoughts regarding his lady architect stray into dangerous paths. “I had not intended anything of the sort. It was not in the original plans that I approved,” he chided.
“I realize that, and had you been closer to hand I would have consulted you regarding it. But I did feel that as a progressive younger man, you would wish the very latest in improvements.” She gave him a wide-eyed look, continuing, “You have no idea how difficult it has been to design things for the house when you have been so far away. I have longed to talk with you about ever so many matters. A discussion on paper is not the most satisfactory sort.” She clasped her hands before her in an almost supplicating way.
“True.” It almost undid Edmund to see her so humble. Though he suspected she was anything but when away from him. Was he being outwitted by a woman?
“My father was an excellent architect, but I fear he did not welcome the latest in innovations for the home. I felt certain that you appreciate the value of these progressive features, how they will enhance your home and add to your greater comfort,” she said with such persuasion that she nearly convinced him. “I could not imagine that one such as yourself, who has traveled widely and met such a vast number of interesting people, would be provincial in taste.”
“However,” he said when he remembered a few things, “that is the very reason I hired your father to design my house. You see—in case you do not realize it—I wanted a traditional house, one steeped in the very essence of England.”
“Oh.” It was clear that she had not considered such a possibility. “You mean a house without running water, or an efficient kitchen range, or shower baths, or the latest in buffets?” She looked so very small and vulnerable that all of a
Edmund looked down at her innocently beaming face and found he simply could not tell her that he hated the dratted thing and that he wished it was in any house but his own. Now, if the architect had been a man, he could have expressed himself forcefully, and the blasted buffet would have been sent on its way to buffet heaven.
“I see,” he replied lamely. The buffet stayed. He was defeated. He could admit it, but not without a sigh. “Well, regarding this shower bath you mentioned earlier. I was under the impression I was to choose if I wished one.” That rankled him, and how he longed to berate her with a tongue blistering. But she was a lady, more’s the pity.
“Come with me, and I will attempt to give you an idea as to how it will be,” Juliana said with eagerness. “I think that once I explain it to you, it will seem most excellent.” She omitted the news of the fractured piece of marble. With any luck at all the replacement ought to be here in a couple of weeks—perhaps sooner.
Lord Barry followed her up the stairs, avoiding the chunks of wood and piles of sawdust in his path. When they reached his dressing room, she walked over to where pipes emerged from the plaster wall at slightly above his height. She had not pointed them out when they were here before, hoping to see the marble in place first. Now there was no reprieve.
“Now stand right here,” she commanded nicely, positioning him where he would stand beneath the flow of water. Never mind that she found the touch of his arm beneath her fingers to be shocking, yet enticing. “See, the water will come out from this pipe, and below it will be cocks with which you may regulate the flow.” She touched one of the two smaller pipes that protruded slightly from the wall. “Think of it—no more footmen carting buckets of water up and down the stairs whenever you wish to cleanse yourself. It is far more practical and agreeable. Believe me, one day every house in England will have such convenience.”
They were alone again, and Edmund found he had to concentrate on the matter at hand to avoid having his thoughts regarding his lady architect stray into dangerous paths. “I had not intended anything of the sort. It was not in the original plans that I approved,” he chided.
“I realize that, and had you been closer to hand I would have consulted you regarding it. But I did feel that as a progressive younger man, you would wish the very latest in improvements.” She gave him a wide-eyed look, continuing, “You have no idea how difficult it has been to design things for the house when you have been so far away. I have longed to talk with you about ever so many matters. A discussion on paper is not the most satisfactory sort.” She clasped her hands before her in an almost supplicating way.
“True.” It almost undid Edmund to see her so humble. Though he suspected she was anything but when away from him. Was he being outwitted by a woman?
“My father was an excellent architect, but I fear he did not welcome the latest in innovations for the home. I felt certain that you appreciate the value of these progressive features, how they will enhance your home and add to your greater comfort,” she said with such persuasion that she nearly convinced him. “I could not imagine that one such as yourself, who has traveled widely and met such a vast number of interesting people, would be provincial in taste.”
“However,” he said when he remembered a few things, “that is the very reason I hired your father to design my house. You see—in case you do not realize it—I wanted a traditional house, one steeped in the very essence of England.”
“Oh.” It was clear that she had not considered such a possibility. “You mean a house without running water, or an efficient kitchen range, or shower baths, or the latest in buffets?” She looked so very small and vulnerable that all of a
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