Read Online The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Hoyt
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Contemporary, England, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, Princes, Widows, Young Women, Nobility, Brothels
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flooded field. Mr. Hopple was already there, talking to a farmer in a woolen smock and straw hat. The man was having a hard time looking Mr. Hopple in the face. His eyes kept dragging lower to the amazing pink waistcoat Mr. Hopple wore. Something black was embroidered along the edges. As Anna drew nearer, she saw that the embroidery seemed to represent little black pigs.
“Good morning, Hopple, Mr. Grundle.” The earl nodded to his steward and the farmer. His eyes flicked to the waistcoat. “That’s a very interesting garment, Hopple. I don’t know that I’ve seen the like before.” The earl’s tone was grave.
Mr. Hopple beamed and smoothed a hand down his waistcoat. “Why, thank you, my lord. I had it made at a small shop in London on my last trip.”
The earl swung a long leg down from his horse. He gave the reins to Mr. Hopple and walked to Anna’s horse. Gently grasping Anna’s waist, he lifted her down. For the briefest moment, the tips of her breasts brushed the front of his coat and she felt his large fingers tighten. Then she was free, and he was turning to the steward and the farmer.
They spent the morning tramping through the field, examining the water problem. At one point, the earl stood knee-deep in muddy water and investigated a suspected source of the flood. Anna took notes in a small book he provided for her. She was glad she had chosen an old skirt to wear since it soon became thoroughly filthy about the hem.
“How do you intend to drain the field?” Anna asked as they rode back to the Abbey.
“We’ll have to dig a trench across the north side.” Lord Swartingham squinted thoughtfully. “That may be a problem because the land there runs into Clearwater’s property, and for courtesy’s sake, I’ll have to send Hopple to ask permission. The farmer has already lost his pea crop, and if the field isn’t made tillable soon, he’ll miss his wheat—” He stopped and shot a wry look at her. “I’m sorry. You can’t be interested in these matters.”
“Indeed, I am, my lord.” Anna straightened in her saddle and then hurriedly grabbed Daisy’s mane when the horse sidestepped. “I’ve been most absorbed in your writings about land management. If I understand your theories correctly, the farmer should follow a crop of wheat with one of beans or peas and then with one of mangel-wurzels and so on. If that is the case, shouldn’t this farmer plant mangel-wurzels instead of wheat?”
“In most instances, you would be right, but in this case . . .”
Anna listened to the earl’s deep voice discussing vegetables and grains. Had agriculture always been this fascinating and she’d never realized it? Somehow she didn’t think so.
A N HOUR LATER , Edward found himself bemusedly holding forth on various ways of draining a field during luncheon with Mrs. Wren. Of course the topic was an interesting one, but he’d never had occasion to talk to a woman about such masculine matters before. In fact, he had hardly any occasion to talk to women, at least since the death of his mother and sister. He’d flirted when young, naturally, and knew how to make light social chatter. But to exchange ideas with a woman as one did with a man was a new experience. And he liked talking with little Mrs. Wren. She listened to him with her head tilted to one side, the sun streaming in through the dining room window gently highlighting the curve of her cheek. Such utter attention was seductive.
Sometimes she smiled crookedly at what he was saying. He was fascinated by that lopsided smile. One edge of her rose-colored lips always tilted upward more than the other side. He became aware that he was staring at her mouth, hoping to see that smile again, fantasizing about what it would taste like. Edward turned his head aside and closed his eyes. His arousal was pressing against the front placket of his breeches, making them uncomfortably tight. He’d found he had this problem almost constantly of late when in
“Good morning, Hopple, Mr. Grundle.” The earl nodded to his steward and the farmer. His eyes flicked to the waistcoat. “That’s a very interesting garment, Hopple. I don’t know that I’ve seen the like before.” The earl’s tone was grave.
Mr. Hopple beamed and smoothed a hand down his waistcoat. “Why, thank you, my lord. I had it made at a small shop in London on my last trip.”
The earl swung a long leg down from his horse. He gave the reins to Mr. Hopple and walked to Anna’s horse. Gently grasping Anna’s waist, he lifted her down. For the briefest moment, the tips of her breasts brushed the front of his coat and she felt his large fingers tighten. Then she was free, and he was turning to the steward and the farmer.
They spent the morning tramping through the field, examining the water problem. At one point, the earl stood knee-deep in muddy water and investigated a suspected source of the flood. Anna took notes in a small book he provided for her. She was glad she had chosen an old skirt to wear since it soon became thoroughly filthy about the hem.
“How do you intend to drain the field?” Anna asked as they rode back to the Abbey.
“We’ll have to dig a trench across the north side.” Lord Swartingham squinted thoughtfully. “That may be a problem because the land there runs into Clearwater’s property, and for courtesy’s sake, I’ll have to send Hopple to ask permission. The farmer has already lost his pea crop, and if the field isn’t made tillable soon, he’ll miss his wheat—” He stopped and shot a wry look at her. “I’m sorry. You can’t be interested in these matters.”
“Indeed, I am, my lord.” Anna straightened in her saddle and then hurriedly grabbed Daisy’s mane when the horse sidestepped. “I’ve been most absorbed in your writings about land management. If I understand your theories correctly, the farmer should follow a crop of wheat with one of beans or peas and then with one of mangel-wurzels and so on. If that is the case, shouldn’t this farmer plant mangel-wurzels instead of wheat?”
“In most instances, you would be right, but in this case . . .”
Anna listened to the earl’s deep voice discussing vegetables and grains. Had agriculture always been this fascinating and she’d never realized it? Somehow she didn’t think so.
A N HOUR LATER , Edward found himself bemusedly holding forth on various ways of draining a field during luncheon with Mrs. Wren. Of course the topic was an interesting one, but he’d never had occasion to talk to a woman about such masculine matters before. In fact, he had hardly any occasion to talk to women, at least since the death of his mother and sister. He’d flirted when young, naturally, and knew how to make light social chatter. But to exchange ideas with a woman as one did with a man was a new experience. And he liked talking with little Mrs. Wren. She listened to him with her head tilted to one side, the sun streaming in through the dining room window gently highlighting the curve of her cheek. Such utter attention was seductive.
Sometimes she smiled crookedly at what he was saying. He was fascinated by that lopsided smile. One edge of her rose-colored lips always tilted upward more than the other side. He became aware that he was staring at her mouth, hoping to see that smile again, fantasizing about what it would taste like. Edward turned his head aside and closed his eyes. His arousal was pressing against the front placket of his breeches, making them uncomfortably tight. He’d found he had this problem almost constantly of late when in
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