Read Online Meet the Earl at Midnight (Midnight Meetings) by Gina Conkle - Free Book Online

fact that you came to my room, requesting a moment of my time—” He spoke softly as the corners of his mouth turned up in an unfriendly smile. “Unless exhaustion has finally claimed you.”
    With him standing there angry, in stocking feet and open-necked shirt, Lydia’s equilibrium went askew. Dark-eyed and unkempt, he looked primitive. No, he was primitive and bore no resemblance at all to a refined earl. Her right hand gripped the neckline of the robe, closing it high under her chin.
    “I know nothing about you.”
    “Edward Christopher James Sanford, ninth Earl of Greenwich.” He said each syllable with the enthusiasm one gives a list for a trip to the market. Yet his eyes…they blazed, sharp and assessing, like he could read her every thought.
    But what happened to you?
    She couldn’t help that. He knew that question hung between them; she guessed as much in the hard glint of his eyes and the tightness about his mouth. Was he daring her to ask the impertinent question out loud? No instructive social manual existed to tell a woman how to engage reclusive noblemen in cordial conversation well past midnight. What was she supposed to do?
    Behind the earl, a log split in two, both pieces rolled apart inside the massive hearth, and pulsing orange embers spilled near his feet. She flinched, but the sudden noise didn’t bother Lord Greenwich.
    “A-And?” she asked, pulling her robe tighter under her chin.
    “And what?” He sighed, starting to sound more annoyed than fierce.
    Her lips parted, but no words came, couldn’t because the sensation of wool filling her mouth made talking difficult. Under the weight of his harsh glare, Lydia squirmed inside the chair: her velvet-clad bottom rubbed the leather, making the only sound amidst awkward silence. Asking the obvious question would wait for another time. Then one of his eyebrows rose slowly, imperious and lordly in effect.
    “Perhaps you can begin by telling me why you barged into my room at this late hour.”
    She didn’t immediately respond. He’d deftly moved the conversation away from questions about his face and saved her from blundering anew.
    “You mentioned something about misunderstandings,” he prompted, drumming his fingers on the mantel.
    “There are some things you should know,” she said, glancing toward his door. “Earlier this evening, when you saved me from my clumsy fall, I wasn’t bothered by your catching me or your closeness. I was embarrassed.”
    He gave no response. Not even a shift in position or batting an eye. So, he’d give no quarter. His hard-eyed, stark silence was condemning enough, as if he’d judged her and found her statement lacking. She made herself sit up straight.
    “Lud, you’re making this difficult. I was embarrassed at having my hand on the front of your breeches. Is that plain enough?” Lydia folded her hands in her lap and exhaled her relief, freed by unvarnished directness.
    Lord Greenwich placed an open hand at his hip and studied her.
    “Your reaction had nothing to do with my presumed madness?”
    “No.”
    “My supposed diseased state?”
    “No.”
    “Or that I’m some kind of malformed, rutting beast?”
    “Of course not.”
    He’d fired each question at her, she’d answered truthfully. Lydia swiped at hair that fell across her eyes. She stared up at him, almost daring his perusal. Then, the barest hint of a smile showed on the earl’s face.
    Her whole body eased back into the chair, and rigidness melted from her spine. Glad for the respite from the tense atmosphere, she decided to face that other issue another time. There was only so much bravado a woman could muster in a single night. Lydia smiled brightly and put her hands on the sides of the chair, ready to rise.
    “Well, then I shall take myself off to bed, and we can both get some sleep.”
    “Wait.” He held up a hand. “You said that you had some misunderstandings you felt I should know.” His eyebrows snapped together. “You