Read Online The Seduction of Lady Charity: The Baxendale Sisters Book Four by Maggi Andersen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maggi Andersen
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Huddlestone?”
“I’m sorry your father is unwell. And, no, I’ve yet to have that pleasure.”
“Aunt Christabel lives no more than a few miles from here, Robin,” Mercy said. “She is very fond of reading.”
“We have an excellent library here,” Robin said. “Your aunt is more than welcome to peruse the tomes. There might be something that appeals.”
Mercy giggled. “You wouldn’t have the sort of stories Aunt Christabel reads.”
Charity raised her eyebrows at Mercy. Their aunt preferred Gothic romances, the more lurid, the better.
“I see.” Robin nodded, although she suspected he didn’t. “I’ve discovered some excellent books on art in the library. Perhaps I might show them to you, Charity.”
She replaced her teacup in its saucer. “I should like that.”
Robin stood. “If perhaps Mercy and Lord Bellamy will spare us a few minutes, there might be one or two you’d like to take with you.”
Charity was startled by his lapse of manners, and her eyes widened. “I don’t know if—”
“Shall we play a game of checkers while we wait, Lady Mercy?” Francis said hastily.
“Oh yes. Let’s.”
“Mercy shall come with us,” Charity said firmly.
Mercy frowned. “I’d rather wait here, Charity.”
Robin went to the door. “I’ll call for a footman to stand in the room.”
“I say, my reputation isn’t that bad,” Francis protested with a grin.
“Nevertheless.” Robin grinned and escorted Charity from the room.
****
They walked along the corridor. Charity paused to examine a fine tapestry depicting a hunt. “Your new home is magnificent.”
He smiled, pleased. “You haven’t seen much of it, yet.”
“I would very much like to see the gardens; their beauty is renowned.”
“Then you shall.” He directed her into the library, feeling ridiculously delighted to be able to share it with her.
“Oh, this is breathtaking.” Charity turned slowly on the Aubusson carpet, her arm gesture encompassing the rows of bookshelves reaching almost to the high-coffered ceiling.
She strolled across and turned the world globe on its stand. “Have you been well?”
Robin was still reeling from the explosion of feeling he’d suffered at the sight of her in his salon. He walked up behind her and forced himself to stop a few feet away, admiring her elegant back in the cream velvet spencer and the way the blue dress skimmed her hips. Her dark blonde hair was swept up from her tender nape. He could so easily shape her waist with his hands and draw her against him. Wasn’t that why he’d angled to get her alone? “Why, I am the very ‘pinke of curtesie,’” he said, quoting Romeo and Juliet . “And you?”
She turned, and they were almost at kissing distance. Her cheeks grew pink. Did he imagine something passed between them beyond an appreciation for Shakespeare? His blood thudded through his veins. Might he dare hope that she would reconsider his proposal? No, now was not the time to risk his heart again and be rebuffed out of hand. For that would leave him defeated. And it would finish things between them.
She straightened her shoulders. “Now, where are these books?” she said briskly, reminding him of a governess talking to her charge.
He strolled over to a table. “These are some I’ve been perusing. I would have ferreted out more had I known you would call.”
She bent her head, absorbed, flicking through each book. “Look at these wonderful botanical drawings. Breathtaking!” Was she enamored of that annoying Scot or merely grateful? Her recent success might make her even more determined to concentrate on her art. Any move on his part now would be unwise. He would have to woo her—remind her of their interests in common that she was unlikely to share with Gunn. At least the baron was not here in Northumberland. Robin would have her to himself for a while.
She chose two of the books and hugged them to her chest, foiling his view of her rounded breasts.
“I’m sorry your father is unwell. And, no, I’ve yet to have that pleasure.”
“Aunt Christabel lives no more than a few miles from here, Robin,” Mercy said. “She is very fond of reading.”
“We have an excellent library here,” Robin said. “Your aunt is more than welcome to peruse the tomes. There might be something that appeals.”
Mercy giggled. “You wouldn’t have the sort of stories Aunt Christabel reads.”
Charity raised her eyebrows at Mercy. Their aunt preferred Gothic romances, the more lurid, the better.
“I see.” Robin nodded, although she suspected he didn’t. “I’ve discovered some excellent books on art in the library. Perhaps I might show them to you, Charity.”
She replaced her teacup in its saucer. “I should like that.”
Robin stood. “If perhaps Mercy and Lord Bellamy will spare us a few minutes, there might be one or two you’d like to take with you.”
Charity was startled by his lapse of manners, and her eyes widened. “I don’t know if—”
“Shall we play a game of checkers while we wait, Lady Mercy?” Francis said hastily.
“Oh yes. Let’s.”
“Mercy shall come with us,” Charity said firmly.
Mercy frowned. “I’d rather wait here, Charity.”
Robin went to the door. “I’ll call for a footman to stand in the room.”
“I say, my reputation isn’t that bad,” Francis protested with a grin.
“Nevertheless.” Robin grinned and escorted Charity from the room.
****
They walked along the corridor. Charity paused to examine a fine tapestry depicting a hunt. “Your new home is magnificent.”
He smiled, pleased. “You haven’t seen much of it, yet.”
“I would very much like to see the gardens; their beauty is renowned.”
“Then you shall.” He directed her into the library, feeling ridiculously delighted to be able to share it with her.
“Oh, this is breathtaking.” Charity turned slowly on the Aubusson carpet, her arm gesture encompassing the rows of bookshelves reaching almost to the high-coffered ceiling.
She strolled across and turned the world globe on its stand. “Have you been well?”
Robin was still reeling from the explosion of feeling he’d suffered at the sight of her in his salon. He walked up behind her and forced himself to stop a few feet away, admiring her elegant back in the cream velvet spencer and the way the blue dress skimmed her hips. Her dark blonde hair was swept up from her tender nape. He could so easily shape her waist with his hands and draw her against him. Wasn’t that why he’d angled to get her alone? “Why, I am the very ‘pinke of curtesie,’” he said, quoting Romeo and Juliet . “And you?”
She turned, and they were almost at kissing distance. Her cheeks grew pink. Did he imagine something passed between them beyond an appreciation for Shakespeare? His blood thudded through his veins. Might he dare hope that she would reconsider his proposal? No, now was not the time to risk his heart again and be rebuffed out of hand. For that would leave him defeated. And it would finish things between them.
She straightened her shoulders. “Now, where are these books?” she said briskly, reminding him of a governess talking to her charge.
He strolled over to a table. “These are some I’ve been perusing. I would have ferreted out more had I known you would call.”
She bent her head, absorbed, flicking through each book. “Look at these wonderful botanical drawings. Breathtaking!” Was she enamored of that annoying Scot or merely grateful? Her recent success might make her even more determined to concentrate on her art. Any move on his part now would be unwise. He would have to woo her—remind her of their interests in common that she was unlikely to share with Gunn. At least the baron was not here in Northumberland. Robin would have her to himself for a while.
She chose two of the books and hugged them to her chest, foiling his view of her rounded breasts.
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