Read Online Sharon Sobel by The Eyes of Lady Claire (v5.0) (epub) - Free Book Online Page A
Ads: Link
scarcely distinguish the pupils, and now wondered if Camille’s had looked like this once.
“Ah, yes, it is something I am not used to myself. After traveling for some time without having the convenience of a looking glass, I am now startled to see my own reflection and wonder at whom I am gazing. Certainly, the fellow looks rather rough and disreputable. But I will not have the time to get accustomed to him, for my beard shall be gone by day’s end.” He fingered his facial hair appreciatively.
“Oh, no, Maxwell! I quite enjoy it,” said Camille.
It was not for Claire to voice any opinion on the matter, nor ask where a marquis might wander and have no access to a basic tool of civilized society.
“But I will not enjoy it when a sparrow decides to nest within it, or when I trip over it when ascending the stairs.” The marquis ignored his sister’s laughter and offered his arm to Claire. “And what do you think, Lady Claire?”
“I think I might very well enjoy it, particularly if you become father to a clutch of fledgling birds.”
“It is not in my plans to become father to anything or anyone, but I do see your point. And I am grateful you did not think a fall on my face would be more amusing,” he said. “But come, now, we are keeping you from your breakfast and you must be hungry after your adventure in the woods.”
Camille waited until Claire was served her accustomed breakfast of kippers, toast and unsweetened tea before she spoke again.
“Tell us about your walk in our woods, Claire, and how you managed to lose a slipper. It sounds like the consequence of some adventure,” she said. “I have walked there all my life and do not recall anything more extraordinary than a dog strayed from a Gypsy caravan.”
“And then you decided to keep him in the house, and the real adventure began,” her brother said affectionately.
“But I want to know about Claire’s,” Camille insisted.
“It was nothing, really. Now that I think upon it, I may have imagined the whole thing, for it could only be a dream wherein a gentleman accosts a lady who is unknown to him, and does not reassure her for her safety,” said Claire.
“In our wood?” Camille asked, smiling. “How extraordinary.” She first faced her brother and then her friend, and somehow seemed to see it all.
“Did he not offer to see you home?” Wentworth asked, reaching for the honey.
“Only a fool would accept such an offer from a man who might be a murderer or a thief or even . . . a hermit.”
“You were wise to behave as you did,” Wentworth said without a note of irony. “Now, do tell me what circumstances brought you to us, Lady Claire. And what have you and Camille found to occupy yourselves in our quiet neighborhood?”
Claire glanced at Camille, who seemed particularly interested in a block of sugar.
“Did you not receive a correspondence from your cousin, Mrs. Adelaide Brooks? Or from your sister?” Claire asked, looking for support from her friend. But Camille found a second block of sugar, which must have been equally fascinating to the first. “I am here to read to Lady Camille.”
“My cousin and sister surely believed I would be gone from Brookside Cottage for many months to have summoned you for this task. It has always fallen on me to be my sister’s eyes, and read what she cannot. I believe we were in the midst of the letter
E
in Ephraim Chambers’s
Cyclopaedia,
when we were interrupted by my unexpected business. Have the two of you continued to plow your way through it? The references are at times particularly obscure, and I should like to know what you think of his work.”
“We have saved the honor of completing the reading of Mr. Chambers’s work for your return, my lord. Lady Camille and I are engaged in reading of another sort.”
“Burke’s
A Vindication of Natural Society
, perhaps? Something by Mr. Pope?” Wentworth leaned back in his seat, and, with his unruly beard, looked liked one of
“Ah, yes, it is something I am not used to myself. After traveling for some time without having the convenience of a looking glass, I am now startled to see my own reflection and wonder at whom I am gazing. Certainly, the fellow looks rather rough and disreputable. But I will not have the time to get accustomed to him, for my beard shall be gone by day’s end.” He fingered his facial hair appreciatively.
“Oh, no, Maxwell! I quite enjoy it,” said Camille.
It was not for Claire to voice any opinion on the matter, nor ask where a marquis might wander and have no access to a basic tool of civilized society.
“But I will not enjoy it when a sparrow decides to nest within it, or when I trip over it when ascending the stairs.” The marquis ignored his sister’s laughter and offered his arm to Claire. “And what do you think, Lady Claire?”
“I think I might very well enjoy it, particularly if you become father to a clutch of fledgling birds.”
“It is not in my plans to become father to anything or anyone, but I do see your point. And I am grateful you did not think a fall on my face would be more amusing,” he said. “But come, now, we are keeping you from your breakfast and you must be hungry after your adventure in the woods.”
Camille waited until Claire was served her accustomed breakfast of kippers, toast and unsweetened tea before she spoke again.
“Tell us about your walk in our woods, Claire, and how you managed to lose a slipper. It sounds like the consequence of some adventure,” she said. “I have walked there all my life and do not recall anything more extraordinary than a dog strayed from a Gypsy caravan.”
“And then you decided to keep him in the house, and the real adventure began,” her brother said affectionately.
“But I want to know about Claire’s,” Camille insisted.
“It was nothing, really. Now that I think upon it, I may have imagined the whole thing, for it could only be a dream wherein a gentleman accosts a lady who is unknown to him, and does not reassure her for her safety,” said Claire.
“In our wood?” Camille asked, smiling. “How extraordinary.” She first faced her brother and then her friend, and somehow seemed to see it all.
“Did he not offer to see you home?” Wentworth asked, reaching for the honey.
“Only a fool would accept such an offer from a man who might be a murderer or a thief or even . . . a hermit.”
“You were wise to behave as you did,” Wentworth said without a note of irony. “Now, do tell me what circumstances brought you to us, Lady Claire. And what have you and Camille found to occupy yourselves in our quiet neighborhood?”
Claire glanced at Camille, who seemed particularly interested in a block of sugar.
“Did you not receive a correspondence from your cousin, Mrs. Adelaide Brooks? Or from your sister?” Claire asked, looking for support from her friend. But Camille found a second block of sugar, which must have been equally fascinating to the first. “I am here to read to Lady Camille.”
“My cousin and sister surely believed I would be gone from Brookside Cottage for many months to have summoned you for this task. It has always fallen on me to be my sister’s eyes, and read what she cannot. I believe we were in the midst of the letter
E
in Ephraim Chambers’s
Cyclopaedia,
when we were interrupted by my unexpected business. Have the two of you continued to plow your way through it? The references are at times particularly obscure, and I should like to know what you think of his work.”
“We have saved the honor of completing the reading of Mr. Chambers’s work for your return, my lord. Lady Camille and I are engaged in reading of another sort.”
“Burke’s
A Vindication of Natural Society
, perhaps? Something by Mr. Pope?” Wentworth leaned back in his seat, and, with his unruly beard, looked liked one of
Similar Books
