Read Online To Charm a Naughty Countess by Theresa Romain - Free Book Online

for a journey to the moon by ox cart.
    Two courses had been served—a rich array to Michael’s eyes, since left to his own devices, he ignored mealtimes. When his stomach’s rumblings grew too distracting, he simply grabbed for whatever food was available. But Lady Tallant set forth for her guests a soup, fish, and roasted beef, then removed them for creamed vegetables and fowls. Everything was perfectly cooked, beautifully seasoned, artfully presented—and this was but a small party of friends. The effort and expense involved in larger entertainments must be staggering.
    Michael struggled through conversation with Miss Weatherby and her mother, returning to Lancashire whenever topics flagged. He could not tell whether they were truly interested or just being polite. It didn’t matter; it was a comfort to talk of the land he loved so well, where he seemed to have left such a large part of himself.
    When dessert was served, Lady Tallant apologized over the fare. “Our cook couldn’t find any fruit today for love or money, and she assured me she tried both. At least the cold weather permits the transport of ices, or we should have to content ourselves with chewing on the candles.”
    Lady Tallant atoned for the lack of fruits by offering her guests an assortment of sweetened ices from the ever-fashionable Gunter’s, located not far from Tallant House in Berkeley Square. Her husband at once took a large serving and spooned the frozen confection into his mouth with the glee of a child.
    Michael accepted a delicate pink ice, which he realized to his dismay was flavored with rosewater. He consumed it in small bites, nodding in response to whatever Miss Weatherby happened to exclaim over in her kittenish voice. And thinking.
    So, there was no fruit for a countess in London. A subtle reminder of the famine wracking so much of Europe in this cold year. England had been more lightly gripped by hunger, but it was a small solace—and a small agony—to know that even the richest nobles in the nation’s greatest city felt the chill of unnatural winter too.
    The meal at last completed, Michael endured another round of distracted nodding as the men chatted over port until Lord Tallant deemed it appropriate to rejoin the ladies. Michael followed the other men into the drawing room, wondering if he could pen a letter to his steward. Surely Tallant had a writing desk somewhere. Michael hadn’t written to Sanders for an entire day, and he kept thinking of new things he wanted to tell the man. Sanders might not remember which tenants’ roofs needed repair, and he would have no idea from where to order materials.
    Michael’s fault, perhaps. Over the years, he had tugged charge after charge from his steward’s control. But it was necessary to make sure everything went perfectly, as he sought to undo the damage his father had wrought. Michael trusted no one as much as he trusted himself.
    “Your Grace? Would you care to make up a hand of whist?” Lady Tallant asked. “Do say yes, or I shall have to partner my husband, and he has the most abominable memory. I shall be impoverished if I am forced to rely on him.”
    Lord Tallant’s mild countenance looked wounded. “Em, I always replace the pin money you lose.”
    “True, and that’s very dear of you, Jemmy. Though as there are only four suits, one would think you could recall which was trump.”
    “We could try writing it down,” the earl suggested. “I’m sure I could remember it if I could only look at a note.”
    Michael seized the opening. “Do you have paper and pen here? Allow me, Tallant.”
    “But, Your Grace, surely you would prefer a game?”
    “Call me Wyverne, please,” Michael said. “There is no need for greater ceremony. And I would be delighted to encourage harmony between husband and wife. You might write down the suit; then there’s a letter I’d like to dash off.”
    That sounded almost carefree. In truth, he felt almost carefree. The prospect of