The Return of the Earl by Edith Layton

Author:Edith Layton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-05T13:18:53+00:00

“Again?” she asked, looking at him directly.

He smiled. “Good. I was beginning to think you were taking your cue from Sir Maurice.”

Her eyebrows swooped in a frown.

“You haven’t looked me in the eye all morning either,” he explained.

She bit her lip. She couldn’t possibly tell him he affected her too strongly; she didn’t dare look into his eyes for fear she’d be lost in them. Anyway, she suspected he knew it.

He smiled. “Although,” he went on, “in Sir Maurice’s case, I could understand it. A gentleman who’s courting a young lady should keep his eyes on hers every minute. It convinces her that he’s smitten, and that way he can see if she’s eyeing any other fellows.”

“The baronet—and me? Ridiculous!” she snapped. She stopped, and glanced around. Then, seeing no one had heard, lowered her voice even further, and added, “He was just being polite.”

“No, he refuses to acknowledge my existence,” Christian said blithely. “And you are prettier. But he could have looked at any of the others. In fact, he should have if he wanted to avoid me, because I made sure to walk with you. But he couldn’t take his eyes from you, even though you aren’t an ‘item of antiquity,’” he added in a perfect mimicry of the baronet’s dry tones.

She’d imagined she’d be too embarrassed by her wanton behavior earlier that morning to talk normally to him ever again. But once they’d begun, their conversation seemed as natural as breathing. “Be serious,” she said. “What are you going to do about the way he’s treating Hammond, as though the thing was already decided?”

“I am serious, and it’s not decided, and I’m not going to do a thing about it,” he said. “The lawyers are doing it for me. I’ve already hired someone to catalog the treasures of Egremont. I hope he can get to it soon, because I’m beginning to think Sir Maurice might be tempted to slip a spoon or a patch box up his sleeve before he leaves. He has every chance to. He runs tame here.”

“Sir Maurice?” she squeaked, appalled, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “How can you say such a thing?” she whispered.

“I’ve seen the work of those who covet before. And my old cousin has the look of a prime coveter, believe me.”

“He doesn’t need to take anything from here,” she scoffed. “He has a treasure house himself.”

“A collector never has enough. He wants to possess everything rare and beautiful. Did you see how he held that Meissen jug? A man could get himself arrested for looking at a woman that way. He looks at you that way, too, by the way. Beware, Julie. Be careful that he doesn’t try to steal you away, too.”

“Don’t be silly!” she said, both flattered and amused by his warning. “He’s just a mannerly gentleman. And lecturing on art isn’t wooing.”

“It is to some men,” he said seriously. “Especially those who have little else to offer—at least to a women who isn’t ready to fall in love with their money or title.

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