Read Online Wanted: One Scoundrel by Jenny Schwartz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Schwartz
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made you a burning lamp, Miss Esme, one who shall not be put out in the night. Proverbs, Chapter 31, Verse 18,” Angus said.
She blushed at the biblical compliment.
“Amen,” Jed said and his voice was a soft caress. “A valiant woman, her price is above rubies.”
Chapter Eight
Esme touched the discreet ruby pin she’d attached to her collar. It was the one spot of color in her grey, tailored walking suit. Even her hat was the soft grey of fluffy emu chicks. Unlike some young ladies she could mention, she had dressed appropriately for the annual midwinter inventors’ fair.
Two booths away Miss Nellie Bowles tilted her head in what she no doubt considered a coquettish angle and let loose a trill of laughter.
Esme was amused to see Jed flinch and step back from the feminine onslaught.
He swung around hastily and apologized to Miss Hannah Peyton, whose toe he’d trodden on.
“Oh, Mr. Reeve.” Hannah collapsed gracefully against him and he had, perforce, to escort her to a bentwood chair by the wall.
Nellie looked daggers before sniffing and stalking away in search of new prey. The wide, violet ruffles of her tea gown rustled loudly.
Esme smirked at Jed’s beleaguered air. Somewhat to her surprise, he appeared keenly interested in the business of the day: the exhibition, analysis and improvement of various gadgets devised by the colony’s inventors.
Her father had often attended the event in the past, generally as an exhibitor. She smiled at the memory of his patented potato peeler. The potato was fixed to a spike which spun it round while a blade moved slowly down, scraping away the skin. Except, when the peeler was cranked too violently, the blade spun with such force that chunks of potato splattered everywhere. She remembered how her mother had shrugged philosophically and made mashed potatoes.
“Good afternoon, Miss Smith.” A loud, arrogant voice intruded on her memories.
She checked a discourteous sigh. She might detest Nicholas Bambury and his politics, but he held a degree of influence over the men in Swan River that she couldn’t afford to overlook—not if she wanted to achieve her goal of universal suffrage. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“May I say how delightful you look? Your fair beauty brightens this dull event.” He glanced disparagingly around the crowded hall of the Mechanics Institute where the double doors were flung wide to allow more exhibitions space outside.
“I find the inventors’ fair fascinating.” She wished his evident boredom meant a swift departure—better yet, that he hadn’t turned up at all. Some people might find his blond good looks appealing. For herself, she’d discovered a weakness for dark-haired, dark-eyed rascals. Speaking of which, Jed had disengaged himself from Hannah and was striding over.
“Afternoon, Bambury.”
The man exchanged curt nods and greetings that sounded more like challenges.
Hannah and Nellie crowded in.
“I see you still have your shadow, Reeve.” Bambury’s sneer was for Reeve and the young man hovering a few paces behind.
The two sycophantic women tittered.
Gupta Singh’s youthfully plump face reddened and he ducked sideways, pretending sudden fascination with a ribbon-tyer at the next stall.
Esme’s hand tightened on her umbrella at the unnecessary cruelty. Gupta Singh was simply indulging in a little natural hero worship for the man who’d saved him from drowning. “Any number of young men would do well to imitate Mr. Reeve’s style. After all, he is recently arrived from Europe, where they set the fashion rather than merely follow it.”
“You and Singh both flatter me, Miss Esme. I’m no fashion-plate.”
“But you have such heavenly broad shoulders,” Nellie cooed.
The stern line of Jed’s mouth relaxed in amusement. “Now I am truly put to the blush.”
“I believe I see my friend Gordon. If you’ll excuse me.” Bambury’s haughty tone showed the offense he’d taken over Esme’s reprimand.
She blushed at the biblical compliment.
“Amen,” Jed said and his voice was a soft caress. “A valiant woman, her price is above rubies.”
Chapter Eight
Esme touched the discreet ruby pin she’d attached to her collar. It was the one spot of color in her grey, tailored walking suit. Even her hat was the soft grey of fluffy emu chicks. Unlike some young ladies she could mention, she had dressed appropriately for the annual midwinter inventors’ fair.
Two booths away Miss Nellie Bowles tilted her head in what she no doubt considered a coquettish angle and let loose a trill of laughter.
Esme was amused to see Jed flinch and step back from the feminine onslaught.
He swung around hastily and apologized to Miss Hannah Peyton, whose toe he’d trodden on.
“Oh, Mr. Reeve.” Hannah collapsed gracefully against him and he had, perforce, to escort her to a bentwood chair by the wall.
Nellie looked daggers before sniffing and stalking away in search of new prey. The wide, violet ruffles of her tea gown rustled loudly.
Esme smirked at Jed’s beleaguered air. Somewhat to her surprise, he appeared keenly interested in the business of the day: the exhibition, analysis and improvement of various gadgets devised by the colony’s inventors.
Her father had often attended the event in the past, generally as an exhibitor. She smiled at the memory of his patented potato peeler. The potato was fixed to a spike which spun it round while a blade moved slowly down, scraping away the skin. Except, when the peeler was cranked too violently, the blade spun with such force that chunks of potato splattered everywhere. She remembered how her mother had shrugged philosophically and made mashed potatoes.
“Good afternoon, Miss Smith.” A loud, arrogant voice intruded on her memories.
She checked a discourteous sigh. She might detest Nicholas Bambury and his politics, but he held a degree of influence over the men in Swan River that she couldn’t afford to overlook—not if she wanted to achieve her goal of universal suffrage. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“May I say how delightful you look? Your fair beauty brightens this dull event.” He glanced disparagingly around the crowded hall of the Mechanics Institute where the double doors were flung wide to allow more exhibitions space outside.
“I find the inventors’ fair fascinating.” She wished his evident boredom meant a swift departure—better yet, that he hadn’t turned up at all. Some people might find his blond good looks appealing. For herself, she’d discovered a weakness for dark-haired, dark-eyed rascals. Speaking of which, Jed had disengaged himself from Hannah and was striding over.
“Afternoon, Bambury.”
The man exchanged curt nods and greetings that sounded more like challenges.
Hannah and Nellie crowded in.
“I see you still have your shadow, Reeve.” Bambury’s sneer was for Reeve and the young man hovering a few paces behind.
The two sycophantic women tittered.
Gupta Singh’s youthfully plump face reddened and he ducked sideways, pretending sudden fascination with a ribbon-tyer at the next stall.
Esme’s hand tightened on her umbrella at the unnecessary cruelty. Gupta Singh was simply indulging in a little natural hero worship for the man who’d saved him from drowning. “Any number of young men would do well to imitate Mr. Reeve’s style. After all, he is recently arrived from Europe, where they set the fashion rather than merely follow it.”
“You and Singh both flatter me, Miss Esme. I’m no fashion-plate.”
“But you have such heavenly broad shoulders,” Nellie cooed.
The stern line of Jed’s mouth relaxed in amusement. “Now I am truly put to the blush.”
“I believe I see my friend Gordon. If you’ll excuse me.” Bambury’s haughty tone showed the offense he’d taken over Esme’s reprimand.
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