The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

improve.”
    “Is he a saint who thinks you are a sinner?” Emma teased.
    “He is no saint. Nor do I believe he cares if I sin or not. He objects to the way society speculates about me, however. I am too notorious for him, and he is too arrogant for me.” She gave Emma a kiss, picked up her reticule, and aimed for the side door. “I will return in the morning, so we can continue our great project.”

Chapter 5
    T he drawing room dwarfed most men. The Earl of Southwaite managed to make the chamber’s proportions suit him instead. A tall man, with shoulders that did not look as if they would narrow much at all when he removed his coats, he wore the drawing room like it had been constructed to the measurements of his lean strength.
    He did appear stormy, Emma thought as she walked toward him. A scowl marred his brow above his deep-set eyes while he gazed at a painting by ter Brugghen on the wall. He stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, chin high, chiseled profile severe, looking very lordly. From his dark hair’s short, tousled cut to his impeccable blue frock coat, fawn breeches, and high boots, he exuded the kind of self-confidence that only breeding conferred on a man.
    He did not uncross those arms right away when he saw Emma approach. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl called to task by her angry governess until he finally did.
    He bowed while he greeted her, but his dark-eyed gaze never left her face and his expression appeared disapproving of something. The delay? Her uncovered hair while inmourning? Perhaps he merely had bad digestion, and his expression had nothing to do with her at all.
    “It is generous of you to condescend to call,” she said. She took a seat on a chair and he settled onto the nearby divan.
    She noticed that one of the potential replacements for Mr. Nightingale had left his newspaper on a table right near Lord Southwaite’s arm. His gaze followed her own to that folded paper. One of his eyebrows arched a little higher.
    “You appear to be bearing up very well,” he said. “First the auction, and now…an effort to move on with your life.”
    If there had truly been storms, he had banished them, or at least their visibility. He spoke calmly, in a quiet baritone that soothed like warm water.
    “Day by day it gets better, as is the way with these things.”
    “We all find comfort as we can in such situations. Of course, as a mature woman of the world, you need less advice in doing so than a young girl might.”
    He smiled. It was a rather nice smile. Not a big one. Just an appealing slight uplift at the ends of his mouth. She thought it more truly charming than Mr. Nightingale’s. Perhaps that was because warmth entered Lord Southwaite’s eyes, and a spark of almost intimate familiarity, as if their prior conversations had created a bond of sympathy.
    That smile lightened her spirits in a most pleasant way. It seemed to bridge all kinds of distances between them, those of class and purpose, and even physical space. His favorable change in disposition led her to speak more plainly than she might have.
    “When you arrived, were there other callers in this chamber, sir?”
    “There were. An assortment of them.”
    “May I ask how it is that they are all gone now?”
    “I suggested that they leave.”
    “I apologize if Mr. Riggles did not alert me to your presence, so I could receive you at once.”
    “I insisted that Mr. Riggles not treat me differently, so do not blame him. I told him to present my card exactly as he did the others. Of course, when I told him that, I did not know your drawing room would be overflowing with young men.” He lifted the newspaper off the table and gave it a good look. “I could not imagine who they were and why they were here until I saw this marked advertisement.”
    Her heart sank. She wished one of her callers had not left that paper behind. The earl had guessed that she was hiring someone. She had hoped to be further along on the new auction