The Earl's Defiant Wallflower by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley [Ridley, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Regency Romance, Regency, Regency England
ISBN: 9781939713278
Publisher: Intrepid Reads
Published: 2014-12-01T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Out in the main corridor, Grace realized she hadn’t the foggiest idea where the library was even located. Miss Downing might have memorized every title on every shelf, but Grace had been so focused on finding a suitor that she’d never bothered venturing outside of any of the ballrooms or their attached gardens.

After several false starts and one whispered exchange with a hall boy, she was finally pointed in the right direction and closing fast on the correct room. She could only hope Lord Carlisle had not already left in frustration.

A thin strip of warm light flickered beneath the library door.

She turned the handle and stepped inside.

A stiff, mottled-purple wingback chair stood before the fireplace. An equally stiff, pallid-faced gentleman with glossy Hessians and glassy eyes sat upon the chair. Perhaps “sat” was the wrong word. It was more like he had been propped there.

Unmoving.

Despite the chill seeping through the windowpanes or the fire crackling at his feet, not a hair on the gentleman’s head dared to ruffle, nor did any movement of his chest indicate he was still breathing. Were it not for the very occasional sluggish blink of his eyes, she could easily have imagined him lifeless, or carved of marble. Even now, he was little more animated than a corpse.

“Miss Halton?”

Lord Carlisle. She spun to face him.

He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Soft brown hair, curling above his ears and across his forehead. Golden brown eyes framed by dark, curling lashes. Wide lips, straight white teeth, a faint scent of mint on his breath.

Tonight, he had not been drinking. He smelled of lemon and soap and sandalwood. It made her want to step closer, to feel his muscles bunch beneath her palms as she stroked his arms. To push her fingers into his hair and open her mouth to his.

He was staring at her as if he could subsist on the sight of her alone. His lips curved, his eyes shining with promise. If the strange man weren’t a few feet away, if she and Carlisle weren’t in someone else’s library, where anyone could walk in at any moment . . . Grace forced herself to tear her gaze from his parted lips, from the thought of what he might do with them.

What had Miss Downing said? If Lord Carlisle had but wished, I would happily have let him ravish me right there between Euripides and Aristophanes. Yes. Grace knew that feeling far too well. It took all her willpower to fight it.

“Why did you ask me here?” The words came out breathier than intended. She was furious with him—or should be, anyway—but the warmth in his eyes made her want to bury her face in his cravat and let him comfort her.

He took a step back. “Where the devil is your chaperone?”

Grace’s smile was brittle. She’d have to let Miss Downing know that she wasn’t the only one Lord Carlisle was immune to ravishing. It was fortunate she hadn’t given in to her desire to throw herself into his arms.

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