An Offer from a Gentleman with 2nd Epilogue by Julia Quinn Read Free Book Online Page B

was legitimate, but rather because she knew he would never pursue her—at least not in an honorable fashion—if he knew that she wasn’t.
    â€œYou haven’t asked me a question,” he reminded her.
    Sophie blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought he’d been serious. “A-all right,” she half stammered, caught off guard. “What, then, is your favorite color?”
    He grinned. “You’re going to waste your question on that?”
    â€œI only get one question?”
    â€œMore than fair, considering you’re granting me none.” Benedict leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting. “And the answer is blue.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy?” he echoed.
    â€œYes, why? Is it because of the ocean? Or the sky? Or perhaps just because you like it?”
    Benedict eyed her curiously. It seemed such an odd question— why his favorite color was blue. Everyone else would have taken blue for an answer and left it at that. But this woman—whose name he still didn’t even know—went deeper, beyond the whats and into the whys.
    â€œAre you a painter?” he queried.
    She shook her head. “Just curious.”
    â€œWhy is your favorite color green?”
    She sighed, and her eyes grew nostalgic. “The grass, Isuppose, and maybe the leaves. But mostly the grass. The way it feels when one runs barefoot in the summer. The smell of it after the gardeners have gone through with their scythes and trimmed it even.”
    â€œWhat does the feel and smell of grass have to do with the color?”
    â€œNothing, I suppose. And maybe everything. I used to live in the country, you see . . .” She caught herself. She hadn’t meant to tell him even that much, but there didn’t seem to be harm in his knowing such an innocent fact.
    â€œAnd you were happier there?” he asked quietly.
    She nodded, a faint rush of awareness shivering across her skin. Lady Whistledown must never have had a conversation with Benedict Bridgerton beyond the superficial, because she’d never written that he was quite the most perceptive man in London. When he looked into her eyes, Sophie had the oddest sense that he could see straight into her soul.
    â€œYou must enjoy walking in the park, then,” he said.
    â€œYes,” Sophie lied. She never had time to go to the park. Araminta didn’t even give her a day off like the other servants received.
    â€œWe shall have to take a stroll together,” Benedict said.
    Sophie avoided a reply by reminding him, “You never did tell me why your favorite color is blue.”
    His head cocked slightly to the side, and his eyes narrowed just enough so that Sophie knew that he had noticed her evasion. But he simply said, “I don’t know. Perhaps, like you, I’m reminded of something I miss. There is a lake at Aubrey Hall—that is where I grew up, in Kent—but the water always seemed more gray than blue.”
    â€œIt probably reflects the sky,” Sophie commented.
    â€œWhich is, more often than not, more gray than blue,” Benedict said with a laugh. “Perhaps that is what I miss—blue skies and sunshine.”
    â€œIf it weren’t raining,” Sophie said with a smile, “this wouldn’t be England.”
    â€œI went to Italy once,” Benedict said. “The sun shone constantly.”
    â€œIt sounds like heaven.”
    â€œYou’d think,” he said. “But I found myself missing the rain.”
    â€œI can’t believe it,” she said with a laugh. “I feel like I spend half my life staring out the window and grumbling at the rain.”
    â€œIf it were gone, you’d miss it.”
    Sophie grew pensive. Were there things in her life she’d miss if they were gone? She wouldn’t miss Araminta, that was for certain, and she wouldn’t miss Rosamund. She’d probably miss Posy, and she’d definitely miss the way