Tempted by a Lady’s Smile by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page B

you were looking for someone, Miss Reed,” he said in hushed tones for her ears alone.
    “I was,” she said from the corner of her mouth, leaving that thought deliberately unfinished.
    She added a piece of bread to her plate and then froze. “You cannot possibly be eating that, Mr. Jonas?”
    He followed her horror struck gaze to the smoked kipper with a poached egg atop. Bristling, he added another kipper for good measure. “Have you ever had kippers, Miss Reed?”
    She snorted. “Undoubtedly not.”
    “And yet, given how little you truly know about the kipper, you’ve formed such an ardent feeling for it.”
    Her eyes narrowed into thin slits of understanding. The spirit lighting their depths transformed her from an ordinary miss with brown hair and brown eyes into a feisty minx needing a third kiss, momentarily robbing him of thought. “I know quite a bit about the kipper,” she said tightly, angling so she directly faced him. “It is a whole herring and it is small, oily, found in fresh waters, and…” She wrinkled her nose. “They smell. Quite badly.”
    Richard met her stare full on. “Those are very detailed pieces of information you have…” He gave her a meaningful look. “On the kippers. It is, however, information that can be gleaned by anyone.”
    They stood, locked in a silent battle with their chests rising and falling—when the absolute silence registered.
    A flush heated his neck and raced up to his ears as from the corner of his eye, he noted the gaping members of the peerage taking in his exchange with Gemma. The color of her skin turned red and if he weren’t close to yanking his cravat at the attention on him, he’d have looked with an even greater appreciation upon the splash of color on the skin exposed above her modest décolletage. Instead, his gaze snagged on the familiar figure in the doorway. And just like that, all the attention trained on a mere Mr. Richard Jonas and Miss Gemma Reed was forgotten at the sudden appearance of Westfield. A buzz went up about the room and Richard inclined his head. “Miss Reed, you might wish to try the kipper before they are claimed by all the other guests.”
    Another spirited glimmer lit the lady’s eyes but then with the regal bearing of a queen, Gemma marched over to the table. A young footman pulled out a chair and she slid into the folds with a quiet thank you. Richard carried his dish beside her. She placed the crisp white napkin on her lap and then stilled “What are you doing?”
    “Sitting,” he returned, and even as she opened her mouth, he claimed the mahogany chair.
    As Westfield made his way to the sideboard, each young lady present and her mama, followed him with their eyes. Interestingly, all except the very one who’d risk her good name and ruin, who now occupied the chair next to his. The lady devoted her attention to her plate, moving the silver fork around the contents upon the white, gold-trimmed porcelain.
    He studied her with renewed interest; the silenced magpie now sat huddled within herself, shoulders bent as though she sought to disappear within herself.
    Westfield looked over the table a moment and then strode over. The young ladies present held their breaths, and then let out a collective sigh of disappointment as he came to a stop not at the head—but beside that brown-haired, silenced magpie. “May I claim this seat?” Westfield favored the top of Gemma’s head with a charming grin that was wasted on the young woman who still examined the toast on her plate as though she’d uncovered a new genus of flower.
    Then her shoulders went straight and she looked about. Richard repressed a frown as the lady locked her gaze with Westfield’s. He searched for the excited ramblings or the clever words and, yet, the long case clock in the corner of the room ticked by the incredibly long stretch of awkward silence.
    Richard took mercy. Under the table, he nudged his knee against Gemma’s and she jumped. He gave her a