Read Online The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) by Erin Knightley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Erin Knightley
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match or nothing for me.”
“Nothing?” Sophie asked, her voice rising in surprise. “If you don’t find a love match, you will not marry?”
She snorted. “I’ll be lucky to marry even
with
a love match. There also has to be a meeting of minds, values, and philosophies for me to ever pledge myself to another.”
“Goodness.” Given Sophie’s propensity to talk, the single word held a wealth of meaning.
“Do not you require the same from a future husband?” May’s blue eyes held no reproach or censure, just honest curiosity.
Charity bit her lip. Did she? Before her first Season, all Charity had hoped for was a spouse who respected her and would allow her to play her music as much as she liked. But then . . . then she had seen the way a man in love looked at the woman who held his heart, and she had known right then and there, with absolute certainty that
that
was what she wanted from a husband. Love she could see, feel, breathe, and live. And for her, all those could be summed up in a single sensation.
She looked to the damp pavement, shyness suddenly setting in. Her two friends already felt like confidantes after only a short while, but that didn’t make it easy to confess the desires of one’s heart. “All I ever truly hoped,” she said, her voice quiet as she looked up and shrugged, “was for butterflies.”
The other women exchanged looks, and all at once it struck Charity how absurd it was for them to be holding this very intimate conversation in the middle of the street. She laughed and said, “And with that, I must attend to my grandmother. But I do so look forward to tomorrow’s rehearsal. By this time next week, we shall do smashingly well at the private session in front of the committee—I’m sure of it.”
Sophie nodded emphatically, upsetting the dark curls spilling from beneath her bonnet. “We really are coming along quite wonderfully. Thanks to the parts you wrote for us, I think this shall be the best rendition of Mozart ever to be played. Well, aside from an actual performance by Mozart, which is, of course, quite impossible.”
Shaking her head, May said, “Yes, quite. Now, come, let’s be off. I am accustomed to the heat, but I’d prefer to be home before the next showers.”
“Are you certain you don’t wish to take the carriage? Grandmama would happily have it readied.”
“For three blocks? I should think not. We are made of sterner stuff than that, aren’t we, Sophie?”
Though Sophie readily agreed, her frizzing curls spoke another story. Charity gave them both an impromptu hug. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
After waving good-bye, she let herself back inside and headed to the drawing room. As expected, her grandmother was ensconced on her favorite sofa, a plate of biscuits on the table in front of her and her stockinged feet resting on the cushions. Lorgnette in hand, she was reading through the day’s correspondence, with three unfolded letters littering her lap.
“Good afternoon, Grandmama. Did anyone write anything of interest?” She settled onto the closest chair and helped herself to a chocolate biscuit.
“Oh yes,” she responded, a smile brightening her whole face. With her comely blue-and-white gown and gay expression, she looked particularly pretty today. “Your mother writes that the visit with the Burtons is going quite well. Mrs. Burton seems to be comforted by her presence.” She put a hand to her cheek and sighed. “Oh, I do so hope it will be a boy.”
Charity smiled and nodded. They were all hoping it would be a boy. To Papa’s great regret, Charity was an only child and the viscountcy would therefore someday pass to Mr. Burton, who was Charity’s second cousin. If he failed to produce an heir as Papa had, the title would pass on to a distant cousin who lived nearly at the Scottish border, and whom none of them had even met before. Mr. Burton wasn’t ideal, but at least he was known to them, and, according to
“Nothing?” Sophie asked, her voice rising in surprise. “If you don’t find a love match, you will not marry?”
She snorted. “I’ll be lucky to marry even
with
a love match. There also has to be a meeting of minds, values, and philosophies for me to ever pledge myself to another.”
“Goodness.” Given Sophie’s propensity to talk, the single word held a wealth of meaning.
“Do not you require the same from a future husband?” May’s blue eyes held no reproach or censure, just honest curiosity.
Charity bit her lip. Did she? Before her first Season, all Charity had hoped for was a spouse who respected her and would allow her to play her music as much as she liked. But then . . . then she had seen the way a man in love looked at the woman who held his heart, and she had known right then and there, with absolute certainty that
that
was what she wanted from a husband. Love she could see, feel, breathe, and live. And for her, all those could be summed up in a single sensation.
She looked to the damp pavement, shyness suddenly setting in. Her two friends already felt like confidantes after only a short while, but that didn’t make it easy to confess the desires of one’s heart. “All I ever truly hoped,” she said, her voice quiet as she looked up and shrugged, “was for butterflies.”
The other women exchanged looks, and all at once it struck Charity how absurd it was for them to be holding this very intimate conversation in the middle of the street. She laughed and said, “And with that, I must attend to my grandmother. But I do so look forward to tomorrow’s rehearsal. By this time next week, we shall do smashingly well at the private session in front of the committee—I’m sure of it.”
Sophie nodded emphatically, upsetting the dark curls spilling from beneath her bonnet. “We really are coming along quite wonderfully. Thanks to the parts you wrote for us, I think this shall be the best rendition of Mozart ever to be played. Well, aside from an actual performance by Mozart, which is, of course, quite impossible.”
Shaking her head, May said, “Yes, quite. Now, come, let’s be off. I am accustomed to the heat, but I’d prefer to be home before the next showers.”
“Are you certain you don’t wish to take the carriage? Grandmama would happily have it readied.”
“For three blocks? I should think not. We are made of sterner stuff than that, aren’t we, Sophie?”
Though Sophie readily agreed, her frizzing curls spoke another story. Charity gave them both an impromptu hug. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
After waving good-bye, she let herself back inside and headed to the drawing room. As expected, her grandmother was ensconced on her favorite sofa, a plate of biscuits on the table in front of her and her stockinged feet resting on the cushions. Lorgnette in hand, she was reading through the day’s correspondence, with three unfolded letters littering her lap.
“Good afternoon, Grandmama. Did anyone write anything of interest?” She settled onto the closest chair and helped herself to a chocolate biscuit.
“Oh yes,” she responded, a smile brightening her whole face. With her comely blue-and-white gown and gay expression, she looked particularly pretty today. “Your mother writes that the visit with the Burtons is going quite well. Mrs. Burton seems to be comforted by her presence.” She put a hand to her cheek and sighed. “Oh, I do so hope it will be a boy.”
Charity smiled and nodded. They were all hoping it would be a boy. To Papa’s great regret, Charity was an only child and the viscountcy would therefore someday pass to Mr. Burton, who was Charity’s second cousin. If he failed to produce an heir as Papa had, the title would pass on to a distant cousin who lived nearly at the Scottish border, and whom none of them had even met before. Mr. Burton wasn’t ideal, but at least he was known to them, and, according to
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