A Gentleman Never Tells by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page A

in a cottage in the country,” Cat announced. “She is the vicar’s right hand, reads novels from the Minerva Press in private and her prayer book in public, and carts around extra vegetable marrows from her garden, so everyone’s heart sinks as soon as they see her.”
    Lizzie felt a little nauseated. She had been thinking of buying a cottage; she couldn’t live in Adrian’s house forever. But she didn’t want to dwindle into a marrow-­loving widow.
    â€œCome along,” Cat said coaxingly. “That partner of Joshua’s, the one I told you about, hasn’t married because he went to India and came back with a fortune from tea.”
    â€œI like a man who made his own fortune,” Lizzie said cautiously. “Perhaps if he’s been in India, and not in society, he won’t know about Adrian.”
    â€œOf course, he’s in society,” her sister said, pulling her toward the door. “Do you think that I would match my sister with a merchant?”
    â€œPapa was a merchant,” Lizzie pointed out.
    â€œDo you want your daughter labeled a ‘Woolly Breeder’?”
    â€œYou’d prefer a ‘Tempting Tealeaf’?” Lizzie said, smiling.
    â€œThat’s more like you,” Cat said, starting up the stairs. “You won’t believe how lovely these gowns are, darling. Do come along!”

 
    Chapter Seven
    L IZZIE SPENT THE afternoon being poked and prodded by a French seamstress, which left plenty of time to think.
    Bitterness was like a poison. Cat was right: She had to get rid of it. For the first time since Adrian died, she tried to imagine a future that included more than a blue bedroom and an endless supply of novels.
    The problem was that every possible future she could think of included a man. She didn’t want a man. But perhaps she wanted more than a stack of books.
    When it was time to dress for dinner, she had two choices: she could wear her much-­worn blue evening dress, or one of the Parisian gowns that her sister had bought for her.
    The blue evening dress had been made years ago from excellent cloth. In the first year of her marriage, she had tried to take revenge by spending Adrian’s money. But his estate had been entailed to a distant cousin, and it turned out that he didn’t give a damn if she chalked up debts against the estate. He and Sadie were living on Lizzy’s dowry.
    It wasn’t until she’d ordered an entire wardrobe suited to a lady that she discovered her husband had no plans to take her into society. He was ashamed of his marriage, ashamed of her.
    â€œWhy didn’t you simply take a paid position, if you found the prospect of marrying a merchant’s daughter so humiliating?” she had asked him.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œTake a position as an estate manager or some such?”
    Adrian had sighed. “Gentlemen don’t work , Lizzie.”
    That was that.
    In the end, she put on the old blue dress because she didn’t want Mr. Berwick to think she was trying to entice him. Normally she wouldn’t care, because she found it easy to ignore men.
    Even in the few moments she’d talked to Mr. Berwick, she had found him impossible to ignore.
    He was so big, for one thing. Tall, with broad shoulders, but that wasn’t really it. He was beautiful, the way some Greek statues are beautiful, in an otherworldly type of way.
    When she looked in the mirror, though, and saw the gown’s unfashionably high waist, and the way it made her look as if she was trying to be girlish, she tore it off and donned one of the Parisian gowns.
    The tiny bodice was boned to form its own corset and rather to Lizzie’s surprise, it gave her a bosom whereas her old dresses made her look flat.
    She wasn’t dressing for Mr. Berwick, precisely. She was . . . she didn’t know what she was doing.
    The moment she walked into the drawing room, his eyes lit up and