Read Online Wedding Night With the Earl by Amelia Grey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amelia Grey
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broth into her soup bowl and then the earl’s.
After the servant moved on, she added, “And for your information, my lord, I don’t limp.”
He placed his glass back on the table. Amusement finally settled into his features. “Really?”
“Yes,” she insisted, though why she’d said such an outrageous and untrue thing, she had no idea. She used a cane! Of course she had a limp. But that didn’t mean she wanted to admit it to him. “I’m positive.”
“Hobble?” he asked cautiously.
It was too late to back down now. Katherine shook her head. “Nor do I shuffle, stagger, or stumble.”
“In that case, pardon me, Miss Wright. I should have said your ‘unusual gait.’ Is that better?”
“Much,” she said pleasantly, thinking maybe it was all right that she’d made such a ridiculous statement after all. This was the liveliest conversation she could remember ever having. “And I’ll thank you to remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.”
Feeling pleased with herself for holding her own and successfully matching wits with the handsome earl, Katherine lifted her spoon and tasted the soup. It was hot and delicious, as usual.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Greyhawke hadn’t picked up his spoon. He was probably trying to come up with a way to get even with her. Let him try, she thought.
She glanced over at him. “You really should taste your soup, my lord, or next you’ll be saying it’s my fault that it’s cold.”
He chuckled, picked up his spoon, and then turned his attention to the guest on his right. The beautiful but elderly Dowager Countess of Littlehaven had asked him a question.
Katherine quietly ate her soup while Mrs. Henshawe and Lady Littlehaven kept both her dinner partners busy. Katherine’s uncle Quillsbury was famous for his sumptuous five-course dinners, which included excellent wines and ports and didn’t take hours to be served. Having been a pampered duke for all his adult life, he had little patience for things that didn’t go his way. He wanted each course served as soon after the other as possible. Extra staff was always brought in to make sure everything went smoothly when he had a dinner party. He wanted the dining and fellowship of others, but he no longer wanted to sit around the dinner table for hours and listen to endless chatter. His guests also appreciated his attention to that detail.
The soup bowls were gathered, and shortly thereafter a small plate of pickled beets and sweetened figs was set before her. Mrs. Henshawe, who was seated directly in front of Katherine, had managed to garner the earl’s attention away from the countess. He was politely listening to a story she was telling about a time when she traveled to Scotland and was set upon by highwaymen. The earl would alternate between looking at the lady and eating his beets and figs.
After the plates were cleared away and Mrs. Henshawe paused to take a breath, the earl turned to Katherine and said, “I must say, Miss Wright, that course reminded me of you.”
Candlelight sparked in his eyes, and she felt warmth emanating from him, even though his words perplexed her. Many gentlemen had commented in various ways on her beauty, her gown, and her hair, but no one had ever mentioned food.
She wrinkled her nose at his suggestion. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to food, my lord. In what way do you mean?”
“It was beautiful to look at, as are you. One bite would be as sweet as you are. The next would be vinegary, as you can be when you don’t like what I say. Occasionally I would get a little taste of both at the same time, and that was when it was most delectable, as are you.”
Katherine looked into his eyes and knew that he wasn’t just flattering her. He meant what he was saying. He enjoyed the fact that she had no qualms about taking him to task and that her tartness had not bothered him. The underlying meaning of his words spread over her like a
After the servant moved on, she added, “And for your information, my lord, I don’t limp.”
He placed his glass back on the table. Amusement finally settled into his features. “Really?”
“Yes,” she insisted, though why she’d said such an outrageous and untrue thing, she had no idea. She used a cane! Of course she had a limp. But that didn’t mean she wanted to admit it to him. “I’m positive.”
“Hobble?” he asked cautiously.
It was too late to back down now. Katherine shook her head. “Nor do I shuffle, stagger, or stumble.”
“In that case, pardon me, Miss Wright. I should have said your ‘unusual gait.’ Is that better?”
“Much,” she said pleasantly, thinking maybe it was all right that she’d made such a ridiculous statement after all. This was the liveliest conversation she could remember ever having. “And I’ll thank you to remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.”
Feeling pleased with herself for holding her own and successfully matching wits with the handsome earl, Katherine lifted her spoon and tasted the soup. It was hot and delicious, as usual.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Greyhawke hadn’t picked up his spoon. He was probably trying to come up with a way to get even with her. Let him try, she thought.
She glanced over at him. “You really should taste your soup, my lord, or next you’ll be saying it’s my fault that it’s cold.”
He chuckled, picked up his spoon, and then turned his attention to the guest on his right. The beautiful but elderly Dowager Countess of Littlehaven had asked him a question.
Katherine quietly ate her soup while Mrs. Henshawe and Lady Littlehaven kept both her dinner partners busy. Katherine’s uncle Quillsbury was famous for his sumptuous five-course dinners, which included excellent wines and ports and didn’t take hours to be served. Having been a pampered duke for all his adult life, he had little patience for things that didn’t go his way. He wanted each course served as soon after the other as possible. Extra staff was always brought in to make sure everything went smoothly when he had a dinner party. He wanted the dining and fellowship of others, but he no longer wanted to sit around the dinner table for hours and listen to endless chatter. His guests also appreciated his attention to that detail.
The soup bowls were gathered, and shortly thereafter a small plate of pickled beets and sweetened figs was set before her. Mrs. Henshawe, who was seated directly in front of Katherine, had managed to garner the earl’s attention away from the countess. He was politely listening to a story she was telling about a time when she traveled to Scotland and was set upon by highwaymen. The earl would alternate between looking at the lady and eating his beets and figs.
After the plates were cleared away and Mrs. Henshawe paused to take a breath, the earl turned to Katherine and said, “I must say, Miss Wright, that course reminded me of you.”
Candlelight sparked in his eyes, and she felt warmth emanating from him, even though his words perplexed her. Many gentlemen had commented in various ways on her beauty, her gown, and her hair, but no one had ever mentioned food.
She wrinkled her nose at his suggestion. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to food, my lord. In what way do you mean?”
“It was beautiful to look at, as are you. One bite would be as sweet as you are. The next would be vinegary, as you can be when you don’t like what I say. Occasionally I would get a little taste of both at the same time, and that was when it was most delectable, as are you.”
Katherine looked into his eyes and knew that he wasn’t just flattering her. He meant what he was saying. He enjoyed the fact that she had no qualms about taking him to task and that her tartness had not bothered him. The underlying meaning of his words spread over her like a
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