All I Ever Needed by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online Page A

garden."
    Harold led her into the rear parlor where he had posted himself to observe Eastlyn's suit. He rang for the butler and permitted Sophie to request lemonade for herself and her guest. As soon as they were alone again, Harold pounced. "What precisely did the marquess say?"
    "He said he was sincere in his suit and that I would make him most happy by agreeing to be his wife. That is the standard, is it not? It is much the same as Lord Edymon said to me when he pressed his suit. Also Humphrey Bell. Is it something men learn at Eton and Harrow, do you think?"
    Harold was unamused by what he thought was an unseemly attempt at humor. "I was not aware there were previous applications for your hand, Sophie. You have never mentioned it." Perhaps if she had, he thought, he would have been prepared for this small mutiny with Eastlyn.
    Belatedly, Sophie realized that Harold had probably used a similarly unimaginative proposal when he sought Abigail's hand. She had doubtlessly offended him again, a state of affairs she seemed to be unable to avoid these days. Even treading carefully, she managed the thing with tiresome regularity. It did not bear thinking how accomplished she might become if she actually applied herself to the task. "Edymon came to me before Father died, though I suspect his lordship knew there was not much time left. Mr. Bell came afterward, when it was still uncertain where I would go." She would have told Harold she had no regrets about her answer to either man, but a servant appeared with a tray, glasses, and a pitcher of lemonade. "Take it to the garden," Sophie said. "And tell his lordship that I will join him directly." It surprised her when the maid did not remove herself immediately, but looked to Harold for direction. She saw her cousin hesitate a moment, staring at the tray as if contemplating the necessity of offering this small hospitality. His agitation was clear, and when he finally gestured that the maid should go on, his direction was impatient and churlish.
    Sophie made to excuse herself again. "You would not have me be rude to our guest."
    "Indeed not," he said tightly. "How little unpleasantness there would be left to share with me."
    Sophie charitably supposed her cousin meant to suggest sarcasm with his tone. To her ears he merely sounded spoiled, and it was borne home to her anew how little liking she had for him. "I must go," she said when he continued to block her way. "Please, Harold, you must see that it is required of me to speak to his lordship. You cannot expect me to tell you first what I mean to tell him." In point of fact, she had told Harold repeatedly what she intended to tell Eastlyn should he make a proposal. Her cousin simply refused to believe her or, more accurately, believe he could not change her mind.
    While Harold was forming another carefully crafted objection, Sophie used the distraction to turn sideways and slip neatly past his jutting elbow and the doorjamb. She was already in the hallway when he realized she was escaping and at the door when he began cursing. Although Sophie understood all too well that she would be made responsible for that curse, she didn't pause on the threshold to the garden. Instead, she flung open the door and hurried from the house, slowing her steps only when her feet touched the crushed-stone path.
    In spite of the calm she affected by the time she reached Eastlyn, she knew her face was flushed. It required some effort on her part not to press her palms to her cheeks. If she was fortunate, Eastlyn would merely conclude that it was her eagerness to return to him that forced the color on her complexion, not that it was brought on by her cousin's latest effort to intimidate her. She was more embarrassed for Harold than frightened, or even angry. She doubted he would ever understand how his grasping, rapacious nature offended her.
    "My lord," she said in the way of greeting as Eastlyn came to his feet. "Please, do not trouble yourself. I beg you,