Read Online Louise M. Gouge by A Lady of Quality - Free Book Online

swords with him only yesterday? But his eyes twinkled with mirth, and she knew she had him. They would not engage in swordplay, but rather wordplay. And she had every intention of winning.
    * * *
    Whatever her pedigree, the lady possessed an amusing wit. To his disadvantage, Winston had never learned to exchange clever quips. Father had been a righteous but grave gentleman, and Winston had always tried to emulate him. Yet since receiving his writ of summons from the House of Lords and making his pilgrimage to London, he had discovered that one could find humor in certain situations without committing sin. With Lord and Lady Blakemore being above reproach, perhaps he could trust their Miss Hart to help him learn how to laugh more often.
    “Why, Lord Winston, I am shocked.” Her sly grin suggested that shock was far from her thoughts. “Would you challenge a lady to a duel?”
    “Only if it is a duel of wits, madam.” He could see she would be a worthy opponent. If anything, he would be the student in this match.
    As she appeared to consider his proposal, she idly grasped a wisp of hair that had escaped her bonnet and curled it around her forefinger to no avail. The moment she released the dark brown lock, it fell straight, emphasizing the graceful curve of her jawline. “Very well, then.” She gave him a smug grin. “I accept your challenge.”
    Of course, they must keep their repartee above reproach, so he considered how to address that issue. “Perhaps we should devise some rules so as not to give one another any offense.”
    “Humph. That very suggestion is an offense.” She waved her fan and stared toward the tall, elegant town houses of Hanover Square as they passed. “If you think yourself unable to maintain propriety, perhaps you should rescind your challenge.”
    Annoyance shot through him. Yet how could he respond? By suggesting that she might be the one to breach the bounds of propriety? Perhaps this game was not a wise idea. What did Proverbs advise about humor and jesting other than to say a merry heart did a man good, like medicine? But if nothing else, Miss Hart’s hauteur suggested excellent breeding. Only a pure-hearted lady would bristle at any hint that she might do something improper.
    The landau turned onto Oxford Street, and Miss Hart continued to watch the scenery, her chin lifted and a slightly wounded expression filling her lovely dark eyes. He stared out the other side of the carriage, taking in the scents of mowed grass and rain-washed gardens. And wondering how to repair the damage. Where did one go to learn the art of tasteful jesting?
    A phaeton passed by, driven by a much older peer—Lord Morgan, if Winston remembered correctly—whose pretty young companion laughed raucously, no doubt at some great witticism from her protector. From the lecherous way the gentleman regarded the girl, Winston would hardly consider him a good source of information.
    By the time they reached Duke Street, crowds of people from every class filled the narrow thoroughfare. The driver skillfully wove the landau in and out among carts, hackneys and pedestrians, reaching Lambert’s Floristry without incident.
    “Wait here, Toby,” Winston ordered as he stepped down to the cobblestones. “Miss Hart.” He reached out to her, and she placed a gloved hand in his to disembark, then breezed past him to wait at the door of the establishment.
    Before Winston could reach her, the door swung open. “Ah, Miss Hart, welcome.” The clerk, or perhaps the proprietor, welcomed her with a bow, then gave Winston a quizzing look.
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Lambert.” She gave the middle-aged man a charming smile that Winston suddenly coveted for himself. “Lady Blakemore sent me to choose some flowers for a last-minute supper she is hosting tonight. Do tell me that Lord Winston and I are not too late to find three or four arrangements of delphiniums or perhaps gladioli.”
    “Ah, Lord Winston, welcome.” Mr. Lambert gave