Read Online The Bluestocking and the Rake (The Regency Gentlemen Series) by Norma Darcy - Free Book Online Page B

through the thick lenses of her glasses. “No?”
    “No.”
    “Then perhaps you are here to see the estate?”
    “I have no interest in your estate, pretty though it may be.”
    “Oh. Then why are you here? Mr. Healey has gone to Harrogate on family business.”
    “I am not here to see Mr. Healey. I am here to see you.”
    “ Me ?”
    “Yes,” he replied smoothly, setting down his cup. “I so enjoyed your visit the other day that I became determined to repay the compliment.”
    Miss Blakelow, remembering the manner of their last meeting, lowered her gaze. “I think that a little unlikely, my lord.”
    “Do you? Why should you indeed?”
    “Because you never make social calls,” she said.
    “I make social calls when I wish to make social calls,” he retorted.
    “Would you like some more tea, my lord?” asked Aunt Blakelow.
    “If your niece will consent to pour it for me,” the earl replied smiling.
    Miss Blakelow kept her eyes lowered as she shifted forward on the edge of her chair and took the cup from his hand. Her fingers trembled slightly as she sensed his eyes upon her and she picked up the teapot and began to pour.
    “Thank you,” he murmured. “I think at least some of the tea has made it into the cup.”
    Her eyes flew to his and she struggled to keep her countenance. “I beg your pardon?”
    His eyes twinkled. “You will allow me to tell you, ma’am, that your spectacles do you no favours.”
    She raised a brow. “Indeed?”
    “You must own that they neither improve your looks nor your eyesight.”
    “I will own nothing of the kind. My spectacles suit me well enough, my lord, and I will ask you to keep your observations to yourself ―”
    “I rather suspect that you would see a good deal better without them,” he added, leaning back into his chair. “And your appearance would be vastly improved.”
    Miss Blakelow stared calmly back at him. “I was not aware that I had asked for your opinion on the matter.”
    “You would look less bookish and I venture to think, much prettier.”
    “And I should take the advice of such a worldly connoisseur, is that so?”
    He shrugged. “You might listen to worse.”
    “For your information, my lord, I have no interest in looking pretty―”
    He gave her a sceptical look.
    “You disagree, my lord?”
    “In my experience,” he replied, “ every woman wants to look pretty, be they five or ninety-five.”
    “Did you come here for a reason, Lord Marcham,” she asked? “Or merely to make me lose my temper?”
    He smiled unperturbed. “Tempting, though that is, I did in fact come to find out what the morally improving Miss Blakelow is doing tomorrow morning and whether she would consent to drive out with me.”
    Aunt Blakelow beamed. “Well, I should be honoured, my lord. Such an honour to be taken up by you.”
    The earl, who had in fact meant the younger Miss Blakelow, was momentarily lost for words. From somewhere he found his manners. “I would be honoured, ma’am.”
    “And so you mean to look over the estate, I suppose?” asked Aunt Blakelow. “Well I’ll be happy to show it to you, of course. Might we prevail upon my niece to join us?”
    “If you wish it,” murmured his lordship dryly.
    Miss Blakelow coloured faintly. “Me?”
    “Yes, why not, my love? His lordship would like to see the estate and who better to show him than you?”
    She offered him a plate of very rustic-looking cakes and his lordship, used to the fine skills of his French chef, examined them with a fascinated eye but refused them.
    “I don’t think you would find that at all enjoyable, my lord,” she said.
    “On the contrary,” he murmured. “Anyone who can do what you did to Harry Larwood is likely to prove very entertaining.”
    Her eyes flew to his and found that they were dancing.
    “Yes, ma’am. He is worried that his son and heir may be an only child as a result of your…er…ministrations.”
    Miss Blakelow blushed and was forced into a