Read A Christmas Bride / A Christmas Beau for Free Online

ma’am,” he said. And lest she was not quite clear on the matter, “I have lived there all my life and have worked there all my adult life, first as a lawyer and more recently as a merchant.”
    “How fascinating,” she murmured, her eyes moving to his lips for a disconcerting moment. He was not sure if it was sincerity or mockery he heard in her voice. “Pardon me. I am neglecting Sir Eric quite shamefully.”
    She turned back to her companion. Obviously it had been mockery. Lady Stapleton had found herself seated beside a cit and conversing with him before realizing who he was. She would not repeat the mistake.
    He set himself to making Miss Grainger feel comfortable again. He felt quite protective of her. She so clearly knew why she was in London, why she was here tonight, and why she was spending a significant portion of the evening in his company. The Graingers, he guessed, were going to be more persistent in their attentions to him than either of the other two couples. Miss Grainger’s pretty blue gown, he noticed, was neither new nor costly. Nor was it in the first stare of fashion.
    H ELENA SAT WITH Mr. Hendy and a few other guests after supper. The others mainly listened while the two of them exchanged stories and opinions about the land-crossingfrom Switzerland to Italy. They both agreed that they were fortunate indeed to have lived to tell of it.
    “I admire mountains,” Mr. Hendy said, “but more as a spectator than as a traveler crawling along a narrow icy track directly above a sheer precipice at least a mile high.”
    “I do believe I could endure crawling with some equanimity,” Helena said. “It is riding on the back of one of those infernal mountain donkeys that had me gabbling my prayers with pious fervency.”
    Their audience laughed.
    Mr. Downes had left his group in order to cross to a sideboard to replenish the contents of his glass. There was no one else there. Helena got to her feet and excused herself. She strolled toward the sideboard, her own empty glass in hand.
    “Mr. Downes,” she said when she was close, “do fill my glass with whatever is in that decanter, if you please. One becomes mortally sick of drinking ratafia merely because one is female. I would prefer even the lemonade at Almack’s.”
    “Madeira, ma’am?” He looked uncertainly at the decanter and then at her with raised eyebrows.
    “Madeira, sir,” she said, holding out her glass. “I suppose you do not know about the lemonade at Almack’s.”
    “I have never been there, ma’am,” he said.
    “You have not missed anything,” she told him. “It is an insipid place and the balls there are insipid occasions and the lemonade served there is insipid fare. Yet people would kill or do worse to acquire vouchers during the Season.”
    He half filled her glass and looked into her eyes. She had the distinct feeling that if she ordered him to fill her glass he would refuse. She did not issue the order. He was a lawyer and a merchant. He had freely admitted as much. A prosperous merchant if her guess was correct.But a cit for all that. If his sister had not had the good fortune to snare Lord Francis Kneller, he would never have gained entry to such a place as the Earl of Greenwald’s drawing room. But she understood now the aura of confidence and power he exuded. He was a wealthy, powerful, self-made man. She found the idea infinitely exciting. She found
him
exciting.
    Sexually exciting.
    “I am tired of this party, Mr. Downes,” she said. “But I am a single woman alone, alas. My aunt, my usual companion, is indisposed, my manservant and maid walked home rather than stay in the kitchen with my coachman, and will not return for another hour at the earliest. Yet I will be scolded by aunt and servants alike if I return unaccompanied.”
    He was not sure he understood her. His eyes shrewdly regarding her told her that. She raised her eyebrows, half smiled at him, and sipped her madeira. It was a vast improvement on