Read Online Redeeming the Rogue by Donna MacMeans - Free Book Online

tingled. That dangerous prospect made her both envious and fearful, an unsettling combination that set her on edge.
    She glanced at Mrs. Summers, who showed none of Arianne’s conflicting emotions. An idea began to take root. She approached Mrs. Summers’s chair and crouched down beside the older woman. “I was wondering . . . perhaps you would be better suited to be his instructor.”
    “Me?” Mrs. Summers’s eyes widened behind the magnifying lens of her glasses. “Oh no! It was difficult enough to teach you girls how to be proper ladies. I could never teach a grown man.” She shook her head. “I think you’re far better suited for this task than I. You’ve attended embassy receptions and parties and balls . . . while I sat with all the other widows watching the gaiety of you young folk. You’d be a better judge of what’s acceptable in these modern times than I.” She bent back to her needlework without further issue.
    Arianne stood, her arms folded across her chest. There was some truth to that, though perhaps not in the way Mrs. Summers implied.
    Hastings interrupted. “Pardon me, miss, but there’s a Mr. Rafferty to see you. He says he’s expected.”
    Her breath caught. He’d found her! She shouldn’t be surprised. She wasn’t exactly hiding, but she wasn’t sure he would actually appear at her doorstep. The longcase clock in the hallway sounded two bells, eliciting a quick frown. He was punctual . . . for a libertine. She glanced toward Hastings. “Could you show him to the blue salon? I shall be down immediately.”
    Hastings nodded. The door closed silently behind him. Arianne turned to Mrs. Summers.
    “He’s here!” Arianne paced in a tight circle before the chair. “I’ve been so preoccupied with thoughts of Kitty and the impending trip that I haven’t given much thought to what I should teach him . . . if he were to really come.” She stopped and turned pleading eyes toward her teacher. “What should I do?”
    Mrs. Summers set her needlework aside, then stood. “I think you should go and greet the man.” She placed a hand at the small of Arianne’s back and walked with her toward the door. “I’m sure appropriate lessons will come as you assess his particular needs. What will be his first social obligation as head of the legation?”
    “You mean after he expresses his condolences to Lady Weston?” A sob caught in her throat as she was reminded of Lord Weston’s demise. Mrs. Summers nodded and waited until Arianne could continue. “Generally the first obligation is to meet the ruling entity of one’s host country.”
    Mrs. Summers smiled, her eyes warm with encouragement. “That sounds like a good place to start.”
     
    ARIANNE APPROACHED THE SALON BUT PAUSED IN THE hallway to observe Mr. Rafferty studying one of her brother’s paintings. Although most of the family portraits hung at the ancestral estate of Deerfield Abbey, the London town house had a fair allotment. Interesting that of all the paintings on the walls, Rafferty would choose that particular landscape, her favorite, to study.
    He was a fine-looking man, from his powerful shoulders to his trim hips. She was to mold him into a gentleman, but there was nothing “gentle” about him, except perhaps his hair. The thought made her smile. His hat lay on the cushion of a nearby wing chair, allowing her a glimpse of his full, thick black hair. While the rest of him warned of contained savagery, his hair almost beckoned touch. A bit longer than current fashion, the ends curled much like that of a young boy. If she were to trim it, would he lose some of his threatening qualities, much like Samson of the biblical tales? Surely, it was that sense of danger surrounding him that set a low vibration in her bones whenever she saw him.
    “This is one of your brother’s early works,” he said without glancing in her direction.
    “I . . . I didn’t know you realized I was here.” Flustered, she soothed the front of her