Read Online The reluctant cavalier by Karen Harbaugh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Harbaugh
Tags: Nov. Rom
Ads: Link
guests quite amiable, but sometimes . . . sometimes company becomes oppressive, and one needs some relief from it. I suppose I will return after a while."
"Procrastinating, Miss Smith?" His voice had lost some of its stiffness and almost sounded congenial.
Annabella's lips turned up briefly, and she returned her gaze to the portrait. "Do you not find this painting quite dull, Mr. Wentworth? I wonder that we have looked at it so long."
A chuckle made her look at him again. "Definitely procrastinating!" he said.
It was Annabella's turn to stare. It was the first time she'd seen Mr. Wentworth smile—a wide grin, his teeth white against his browned skin, his hazel eyes twinkling. He was, she realized, handsome. No, not quite handsome, for his features were not at all classical. Or rather, handsome in spite of what fashion dictated. She could not decide. Charming, perhaps, for there was something in his smile that made her smile in return. It reminded her, somehow, of a sunny spring day, just after the rain—fresh and clean and bright.
She mentally shook herself. What nonsense! She was becoming quite fanciful—no doubt she had been reading too many novels, just as her father had said. How could such a reticent man be charming?
"No, sir, merely one who appreciates art too much to miss her host's collection." She made her lips prim and pointed to a still life of flowers next to the portrait. "Now, do you not think that is a far more pleasant thing to look at?"
He smiled. "Yes," he said, but he was not looking at the painting at all, but at her.
"Mr. Wentworth, you are looking at me again!"
"I am afraid I am not as great an appreciated of art as you, Miss Smith."
"Prevaricating, Mr. Wentworth?"
He turned his eyes to the still life she had pointed to. "I cannot like still life paintings, Miss Smith," he said. "I prefer flowers in their natural setting."
"Definitely prevaricating!" she said.
He laughed, and it made her smile widely. It was a pleasant sound, husky, soft, and natural. She felt, almost, as if she'd been rewarded, hearing it; one had to work a little to coax a smile from him. He had not lifted even a corner of his lips while with the company in the drawing room. But she had, at last, made him laugh.
A distant clock tolled the hour, and tolled the end of his laughter, too, for a startled look came over Mr. Wentworth's face. His expression grew stiff again. As he glanced away, Annabella felt as if a warm light had suddenly disappeared.
"I suppose it is time I should return," Annabella said.
There was a brief silence before he said, "I suppose I should, also."
Annabella merely nodded, went forward a step, then looked back at him.
"Well, Mr. Wentworth?"
This time a blush followed his startled look, and he belatedly held out his arm. She put her hand upon it, and they descended to the drawing room once again, saying nothing as they went. The descent seemed too quick to Annabella, and she wished she was back in the gallery again. Mr. Wentworth put out his hand to the door, but before he opened it, she stayed his hand.
"Thank you," she said.
He looked puzzled and cocked his head to one side, a skeptical gesture. "Pardon me?" he said.
"Thank you—for a most pleasant half hour, Mr. Wentworth."
"I... you are welcome, Miss Smith," Mr. Wentworth replied and bowed. She almost smiled, for an astonished expression had flitted briefly across his face. He opened the door then, and Annabella found she had been holding her breath. A few heads turned when she and Mr. Wentworth entered, but she did not mind them, for he pressed her hand briefly and it comforted her somehow.
She thought, for one moment, that a look of anger flashed in the Duke of Stratton's eyes. But no, his face was smoothly cordial, and when she nodded at him, nothing could be more admiring than his smile.
Chapter 5
Parsifal whistled cheerfully as he strode toward the lake, The early morning was just creeping above the horizon, and a small
"Procrastinating, Miss Smith?" His voice had lost some of its stiffness and almost sounded congenial.
Annabella's lips turned up briefly, and she returned her gaze to the portrait. "Do you not find this painting quite dull, Mr. Wentworth? I wonder that we have looked at it so long."
A chuckle made her look at him again. "Definitely procrastinating!" he said.
It was Annabella's turn to stare. It was the first time she'd seen Mr. Wentworth smile—a wide grin, his teeth white against his browned skin, his hazel eyes twinkling. He was, she realized, handsome. No, not quite handsome, for his features were not at all classical. Or rather, handsome in spite of what fashion dictated. She could not decide. Charming, perhaps, for there was something in his smile that made her smile in return. It reminded her, somehow, of a sunny spring day, just after the rain—fresh and clean and bright.
She mentally shook herself. What nonsense! She was becoming quite fanciful—no doubt she had been reading too many novels, just as her father had said. How could such a reticent man be charming?
"No, sir, merely one who appreciates art too much to miss her host's collection." She made her lips prim and pointed to a still life of flowers next to the portrait. "Now, do you not think that is a far more pleasant thing to look at?"
He smiled. "Yes," he said, but he was not looking at the painting at all, but at her.
"Mr. Wentworth, you are looking at me again!"
"I am afraid I am not as great an appreciated of art as you, Miss Smith."
"Prevaricating, Mr. Wentworth?"
He turned his eyes to the still life she had pointed to. "I cannot like still life paintings, Miss Smith," he said. "I prefer flowers in their natural setting."
"Definitely prevaricating!" she said.
He laughed, and it made her smile widely. It was a pleasant sound, husky, soft, and natural. She felt, almost, as if she'd been rewarded, hearing it; one had to work a little to coax a smile from him. He had not lifted even a corner of his lips while with the company in the drawing room. But she had, at last, made him laugh.
A distant clock tolled the hour, and tolled the end of his laughter, too, for a startled look came over Mr. Wentworth's face. His expression grew stiff again. As he glanced away, Annabella felt as if a warm light had suddenly disappeared.
"I suppose it is time I should return," Annabella said.
There was a brief silence before he said, "I suppose I should, also."
Annabella merely nodded, went forward a step, then looked back at him.
"Well, Mr. Wentworth?"
This time a blush followed his startled look, and he belatedly held out his arm. She put her hand upon it, and they descended to the drawing room once again, saying nothing as they went. The descent seemed too quick to Annabella, and she wished she was back in the gallery again. Mr. Wentworth put out his hand to the door, but before he opened it, she stayed his hand.
"Thank you," she said.
He looked puzzled and cocked his head to one side, a skeptical gesture. "Pardon me?" he said.
"Thank you—for a most pleasant half hour, Mr. Wentworth."
"I... you are welcome, Miss Smith," Mr. Wentworth replied and bowed. She almost smiled, for an astonished expression had flitted briefly across his face. He opened the door then, and Annabella found she had been holding her breath. A few heads turned when she and Mr. Wentworth entered, but she did not mind them, for he pressed her hand briefly and it comforted her somehow.
She thought, for one moment, that a look of anger flashed in the Duke of Stratton's eyes. But no, his face was smoothly cordial, and when she nodded at him, nothing could be more admiring than his smile.
Chapter 5
Parsifal whistled cheerfully as he strode toward the lake, The early morning was just creeping above the horizon, and a small
Similar Books
