Lady Sophia's Rescue (Traditional Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen Read Free Book Online

would be like to feel those lips upon hers. Nothing like Finkie and his kippers, she was certain.
    This Supreme Creature had the most maddening effect upon her. Usually a lively conversationalist, she could do nothing but answer his queries in monosyllables. He was sure to think her an idiot.
    As the footmen removed the cloth and brought out the sweetmeats, she decided she really must convince him that she was not going to turn mute like her sister. Unsteady hands folded in her lap, she turned to him and bestowed one of her alluring (so she had often been told) smiles upon him.
    The green in his eyes sparkled like shimmering seas.
    Then she completely embarrassed herself over the stupidity of her question. “Tell me, Mr. Birmingham, is your father a wealthy man, or did he earn his money?”
    “Both, actually. He was born quite poor but was clever about earning money. He is dead.”
    “Was he a . . . gentleman?”
    His expression went cold. “No, he was not. It was his fondest wish that his children be groomed to take places in society that were denied him.”
    Until this moment she had never seen a more confident man than Mr. Birmingham. Her memory flashed back to that morning’s dangerous confrontation, to the way Mr. Birmingham had easily bested the armed man who had several advantages over him, not the least of which was his loaded weapon. With deep admiration, she remembered the cocky way Mr. Birmingham had refused her assistance. Even his home bespoke a man of easy elegance and fine breeding. Yet she had discovered the one area where he lacked confidence. Handsome, wealthy, gentlemanly Mr. Birmingham was embarrassed over his origins.
    In all aspects save one — his mysterious illegal activities — Mr. Birmingham had certainly fulfilled his father’s hopes.
    As she had done at every dinner since she’d left the school room, Sophia unconsciously slipped into French. “Were your father alive, I believe he would be proud of the man you’ve become.”
    Mr. Birmingham laughed. “And I believe you confuse gratitude with admiration.”
    “I cannot deny that I’m profoundly grateful that you risked your life to save mine this morning, but I assure you my admiration is based on a solid foundation of noble — and gentlemanly — actions on your part.”
    It only then occurred to her that her host had spoken to her in flawless French. He had most definitely been brought up as a gentleman. “Tell me, Mr. Birmingham, did your father speak French?”
    He went serious again. “He spoke nothing except English. And not the king’s English.”
    “And you, Mr. Birmingham? What other languages do you speak?”
    “German. Italian. Greek. Spanish.”
    Six languages, counting the English and French he spoke so very well. A most educated man. “And I would guess that you also read and write Latin.”
    “I had no choice. I began studying with the best tutors my father could buy when I was but four years of age. I was the baby of the family, and by the time I arrived, my father was a very wealthy man.”
    Desserts finished, he stood. “Will you ladies join me in the drawing room? Perhaps we could play loo.”
    Which was the only game Sophia could think of that three could play. “My sister would prefer to embroider, but I would be most happy to engage in a game of whist with you.”
    Just one game, then she must become sick. Though she had planned to begin feigning illness at the dining table, she was not yet ready to absent herself from Mr. Birmingham’s charming presence.
    * * *
    He had not intended to spend the night at home. Diane expected him at the theatre after her performance. He always came to her when he returned to London. To her and the exceedingly expensive house he’d set her up in on Park Lane. But Diane was not the woman he wanted to spend this evening with.
    Only the ravishing Isadore claimed his attention. His earlier efforts to pen some letters had been fruitless. He could do nothing but think about