A Most Peculiar Circumstance by Jen Turano Read Free Book Online Page B

within reason that you care to discuss during the time we have left together.”
    He really must be coming down with something.
    She felt her lips twitch. “You would discuss the suffrage movement with me?”
    “I would much rather discuss ladies’ fashions, the ingredients for assembling a cake, or even the many ailments that plague people, but since you do not seem to like conversing on subjects the majority of ladies enjoy, then yes, I will discuss, or at least listen to, your views on the suffrage movement once again.”
    His words stung.
    She enjoyed the latest fashions as much as the next lady, and while she was not overly proficient in the kitchen, she did know how to bake a cake.
    Yet he did have a point. Every single time they’d attempted to converse, she’d brought up her cause and . . . good heavens, she’d somehow managed to become a bore.
    It was little wonder he hadn’t wanted to engage in conversation with her during the past few days. He’d probablybeen lulled almost to the point of slumber, which certainly would explain all the naps he’d taken.
    She needed to bring up a topic for conversation they both would enjoy, but her mind was a complete blank.
    “Tell me, Miss Beckett,” Theodore began, breaking the silence that had settled over them. “I noticed you carry a yellow parasol with you quite often, and that parasol, interestingly enough, is trimmed in pink. May I assume it was a gift, and that you hold it dear to your heart?”
    For some reason, she got the impression he found it odd that she would own anything with pink on it.
    She reached down and plucked up the parasol in question. “I purchased this adorable parasol in a small shop while I was staying in California. The reason I carry it so often is because I absolutely adore the color pink.” She twirled the closed parasol around for a second and frowned. “I had a gown made up to complement this parasol, but alas it was destroyed by my encounter with that dastardly pig.”
    “Very good, Miss Beckett, that was a subject of conversation that any normal young lady would have brought up, except for the ‘dastardly pig’ part, that is.”
    She eyed the parasol and couldn’t help but wonder if it would survive intact if she used it to give Mr. Wilder a good wallop.
    “I must admit that you’ve taken me by surprise with your admission that you enjoy pink,” Theodore continued, completely oblivious to the fact she was longing to do him bodily harm. “Pink is not a color I would normally associate with you.”
    She laid the parasol back on the floor, just far enough away from her that it wouldn’t be a temptation. “And exactly what colors do you associate with me?”
    “I think bold colors suit you, like red or . . . black.”
    She tilted her chin. “Black is not a color.”
    “But it suits you.”
    “I’ve never worn black in your presence, something you would know if you’d actually been paying attention to me. What color did I wear yesterday?”
    “Yellow.”
    She bit her lip. He was right, she had worn yellow yesterday. She tilted her chin. “What about the day we met?”
    He laughed. “Miss Beckett, surely you realize that given the fact you were covered in mud, I can’t really say what color you were wearing.” He grinned. “But since it appears we have descended into bickering over what I thought would be a safe subject, may I suggest we move on to discuss anything of note you read in the paper?”
    She lifted her chin. “I did read about a rally that is to be held in Central Park, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the pesky details.” She gritted her teeth when he had the audacity to send her a charming and all-too-attractive grin. “However,” she said, reaching for the newspaper and shaking it open to page three, “I must admit I found this article on the clothing mills extremely well-written. It’s by a Mr. Alfred Wallenstate, and he has a wonderful way with words.”
    Theodore’s grin