Teach a Rogue New Tricks: A Steamy Historical Romance (The Cavendish Family Series Book 2) by Charlie Lane

Author:Charlie Lane [Lane, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Empowered Publishing
Published: 2022-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

When they returned to Berkeley Square, Cass trotted across the green to Gunter’s Tea Shop alone. He needed time to think, time to suppress the increasingly and alarmingly strong urges to kiss Miss Cavendish. He ordered three ices, a sweet for him, and a sweet and savory for her because he’d forgotten to ask her preference, but he still wished to bring her something that would delight her.

He took his time ambling back over to the coach, and he resisted itching his upper lip. The damned mustache had been driving him crazy all morning, and he ached to rip it from his face. He looked around the square. The early time of day kept those who had reveled all night still in bed, and the rain had run everyone else inside. They were alone.

The square glowed green and yellow, the storm having knocked flowers from the trees so that the grass seemed dotted with white gemstones.

She waited for him below a tree in the middle of the square.

He scowled. It would be wet there. He marched across the green and stopped before her, ripping his jacket from his arms and spreading it on the grass. “Good thing it didn’t rain too heavy. Under the tree the grass is not too wet.” He scowled at the garment on the ground. “But your skirts might still get wet.”

“You sound positively put out, Lord Albee. You’re producing such a gentlemanly grumble of displeasure of my inconvenience.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the tree.

Ada floated down to settle on his jacket. “Join me down here.”

He squatted, but the amount of ground covered by his coat seemed miniscule. If he sat on it, he’d be sitting almost on top of her. Better if he sat on the coat and she sat on his lap, and—

No.

He plopped onto the wet grass beside the coat.

Her gaze wavered to where he sat then to his face. “Your … backside will get wet.”

“I’ll be fine.” A bit of a soaked arse would help him focus on not ravishing Miss Cavendish.

The sun peeked through gray clouds, banished them, and filtered through the leaves above, dappling Ada’s light-blue gown with sunlight. A breeze blew, and white flower petals rained down on their heads, dotting her dark hair.

She laughed and reached forward, pulling one from his hair. The touch made him shiver, and he drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Not speak. Read. And I’m not sure. I’ve never counted. Let’s see.” She raised her hand and counted on her fingers. “English, French, German, Welsh—”

“Welsh.”

She nodded.

He whistled.

“A difficult several months to be sure. There’s also Iranian.” She lifted the other hand to add to her tally. “Italian, Latin, Spanish, Russian … and soon Persian, I hope.”

“You’re a wonder.” He meant it.

She shrugged. “As I said, I cannot speak them.”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible.”

“When I’m reading, I can figure out what the words stand for. I just don’t know how to pronounce them.

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