Grace by Deneane Clark Read Free Book Online

tolerance softened her guarded features.
    He gave a short, sharp bark of laughter when she said their names. “I’ve been introduced to Amity, and found her quite delightful, but I find it rather hard to believe that somebody actually named that little spitfire Charity.” He shook his head, still laughing softly. “I gather she’s a bit more excitable than her twin?”
    Grace nodded, smiling warmly at him, always happy to talk about the members of her family. “They’re nearly inseparable. Amity, who has a tendency to be quiet and withdrawn, seems to temper Charity’s impulsive streak, though she has been known to instigate a prank or two herself. Charity, as I believe you’ve discovered, is anything but withdrawn, though she does manage to keep Amity from constantly burying her nose in a book and isolating herself from the outside world.” She looked up fondly at the lone male portrait. “Amity is somewhat like Papa in that respect.”
    Trevor looked at her with gentle understanding. “Well,” he said, “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting them both, though separately, and at the time I had no idea that there were two of them. It does explain how Amity was able to change her dress and her attitude so quickly from when Sebastianand I first arrived.” Briefly, he described the reception they had received from Charity, and his subsequent conversation with Amity in this very room.
    Grace laughed. “I can see why you were confused! They’ve always enjoyed pulling the usual twin tricks on our friends and neighbors.” She looked into Trevor’s warm jade gaze and marveled at how comfortable she felt with him, curled up here in one of her father’s favorite chairs, cozily chatting with a perfect stranger just as though they had been friends for years. Deep inside, somewhere near the pit of her stomach, she felt the faint beginnings of a strange tingle as he returned her look. When his smiling eyes finally left hers and began skipping over the portraits once again, she felt free enough to allow her gaze to slowly wander over the amazing perfection of his features.
    His face in profile was ruggedly beautiful, a face that might have inspired Michelangelo himself. She felt odd tingles build within her until something in her chest suddenly lurched. She hastily dropped her gaze to the floor. He lounged in the chair, his Hessian-clad feet stretched before him, legs crossed negligently at the ankles, one foot leisurely flexing back and forth. Her eyes slowly traveled up long, muscular legs encased in chocolate breeches that needed no false padding to improve their shape. A long-fingered, aristocratic hand lay across his lap, the nails neatly trimmed and buffed. His hands and face, more deeply tanned than those of the few other men in his class she had seen, indicated he likely spent a great deal of his time outdoors, either hunting or riding. The notion pleased her. She generally thought of society gentlemen as lazy and wasteful, almost prissy in both their attire and methods of entertainment. Certainly Harry Thomas was so. Trevor Caldwell appeared to be an exception.
    Her gaze next wandered with admiration to his broad shoulders, his superbly tailored jacket of burgundy superfinefitting smoothly and perfectly over his crisp white linen shirt. Her composure now restored, she lifted her eyes once again to study his face. Her perusal skidded to an abrupt and immediate halt, her horrified gaze locked on his mouth.
    Trevor was smiling rakishly at her, his wide grin revealing even white teeth, startling in contrast to his tanned skin. With dread she forced herself to look into his eyes, a rosy blush spreading hotly across her cheeks despite her frantic attempts to appear cool and unruffled. As she feared, his mocking eyes locked on hers with a look she had never seen, a look that told her he liked the way she inspected him, and that he was now thoroughly enjoying her embarrassment. Stubbornly refusing to allow him to intimidate