Read Online Meet the Earl at Midnight (Midnight Meetings) by Gina Conkle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gina Conkle
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spoke in the plural. What else did you plan to tell me?”
Her jaw dropped. His lordship had paid enough attention to detail to catch every nuance of what she’d said, very unlike most men of her experience. Relief over their simpatico, however brief, drained, as did her courage on the other point. She wanted to slink off to the safety of sleep, hide under thick covers, and not emerge for days.
“That can wait for morning, my lord.”
She tried a smile, but by the way his eyes narrowed, a muddled, caught-in-the-thick-of-trouble look must have been written all over her face.
Lord Greenwich shook his head. “Now is as good a time as any. After all, you came to me.”
“Oh, but…” Whatever argument died from her lips under his scrutiny.
She contemplated a lie, if only for a second, to relieve the pressure of his penetrating stare. Lydia noticed the rich amber liquid in his lordship’s glass, very nice scotch whiskey, she was sure. A bracing swig would be welcome right about now. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“I’m not a virgin.”
Lydia’s hands clasped neatly over her abdomen. Lord Greenwich’s gaze dropped to the protective gesture.
“Not a virgin,” he said softly.
“No.” Her thumb brushed the robe’s velvet belt. “I’m not sure what George told you about me, or if that was a requirement in this unusual transaction, but with your need of an heir…ah, perhaps that might be an issue.” She glanced up at Lord Greenwich and tried to gauge his reaction, but the man stayed stiff and unreadable.
“He inferred you were pure as the driven snow…but go on.”
She winced. “In the carriage, I pieced facts together. I was sure you didn’t know, and of course, that detail would be important to you. Usually is to family lines, isn’t it?”
Lydia stared into the fire behind him. The late hour and warm, hypnotic fire lulled her. With the worst of what she had to say over and done, easiness with the earl loosened her tongue.
“My stepfather has a talent for trickery.” She peered up at him. “Once I understood the whole situation, I realized you likely didn’t know why I live in Wickersham. I was a bit of a hoyden in the past, caught in a compromising situation and packed off to my great-aunt’s house some four years ago. Ironically, I left to spare my mother eviction from the old steward’s cottage, which happened later from something George did. We lived there by the benevolence of the Duke of Somerset after my father died.” Lydia kept playing with the velvet tie. “But the duchess thought me a bad influence. She, along with some houseguests and one of her daughters, stumbled upon me in the barn”—she looked down at her clasped hands and chose her words with care—“with, ah, a man of close acquaintance.”
“Then having your hands on men’s breeches isn’t a stretch for you, is it?”
Her head shot up. “That’s a touch rude.”
“Not as rude as the trap you and your stepfather have set for me, is it?”
“I’ve done no such thing,” she said, her voice sharpening.
“You’re as quick with deception as old George, aren’t you, Miss Montgomery? I played nicely into your hands. The cash-strapped family of no rank marries nobility. Oh, you’d all be set up well.” His dark eyes sparked. “I should’ve known at the inn. What you said to me…bold as brass.”
Lydia sat up taller. “I came here to spare you any false assumptions. I’d like nothing more than to be free of this absurd arrangement, which as you may recall, I had no hand in making.”
“What?” he scoffed. “No convenient marriage for the unmarriageable hoyden? You’re pretty but not that pretty.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond to such insult and accusation. He’d twisted her best intentions into something horrible. Lord Greenwich’s face contorted from one dark emotion to the next, but that stare down was brief. He lunged at her and yanked her within an inch of his
Her jaw dropped. His lordship had paid enough attention to detail to catch every nuance of what she’d said, very unlike most men of her experience. Relief over their simpatico, however brief, drained, as did her courage on the other point. She wanted to slink off to the safety of sleep, hide under thick covers, and not emerge for days.
“That can wait for morning, my lord.”
She tried a smile, but by the way his eyes narrowed, a muddled, caught-in-the-thick-of-trouble look must have been written all over her face.
Lord Greenwich shook his head. “Now is as good a time as any. After all, you came to me.”
“Oh, but…” Whatever argument died from her lips under his scrutiny.
She contemplated a lie, if only for a second, to relieve the pressure of his penetrating stare. Lydia noticed the rich amber liquid in his lordship’s glass, very nice scotch whiskey, she was sure. A bracing swig would be welcome right about now. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“I’m not a virgin.”
Lydia’s hands clasped neatly over her abdomen. Lord Greenwich’s gaze dropped to the protective gesture.
“Not a virgin,” he said softly.
“No.” Her thumb brushed the robe’s velvet belt. “I’m not sure what George told you about me, or if that was a requirement in this unusual transaction, but with your need of an heir…ah, perhaps that might be an issue.” She glanced up at Lord Greenwich and tried to gauge his reaction, but the man stayed stiff and unreadable.
“He inferred you were pure as the driven snow…but go on.”
She winced. “In the carriage, I pieced facts together. I was sure you didn’t know, and of course, that detail would be important to you. Usually is to family lines, isn’t it?”
Lydia stared into the fire behind him. The late hour and warm, hypnotic fire lulled her. With the worst of what she had to say over and done, easiness with the earl loosened her tongue.
“My stepfather has a talent for trickery.” She peered up at him. “Once I understood the whole situation, I realized you likely didn’t know why I live in Wickersham. I was a bit of a hoyden in the past, caught in a compromising situation and packed off to my great-aunt’s house some four years ago. Ironically, I left to spare my mother eviction from the old steward’s cottage, which happened later from something George did. We lived there by the benevolence of the Duke of Somerset after my father died.” Lydia kept playing with the velvet tie. “But the duchess thought me a bad influence. She, along with some houseguests and one of her daughters, stumbled upon me in the barn”—she looked down at her clasped hands and chose her words with care—“with, ah, a man of close acquaintance.”
“Then having your hands on men’s breeches isn’t a stretch for you, is it?”
Her head shot up. “That’s a touch rude.”
“Not as rude as the trap you and your stepfather have set for me, is it?”
“I’ve done no such thing,” she said, her voice sharpening.
“You’re as quick with deception as old George, aren’t you, Miss Montgomery? I played nicely into your hands. The cash-strapped family of no rank marries nobility. Oh, you’d all be set up well.” His dark eyes sparked. “I should’ve known at the inn. What you said to me…bold as brass.”
Lydia sat up taller. “I came here to spare you any false assumptions. I’d like nothing more than to be free of this absurd arrangement, which as you may recall, I had no hand in making.”
“What?” he scoffed. “No convenient marriage for the unmarriageable hoyden? You’re pretty but not that pretty.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond to such insult and accusation. He’d twisted her best intentions into something horrible. Lord Greenwich’s face contorted from one dark emotion to the next, but that stare down was brief. He lunged at her and yanked her within an inch of his
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