Read Ecstasy Wears Emeralds for Free Online Page B

whenever I see the phrase I just remember his face and wonder.”
    â€œWhat exactly do you wonder? If he was right?”
    Rowan shook his head. “Oh, I know he was right. It doesn’t take too many years before you realize that the best philosophy is uttered by ten-year-olds and the rest is rubbish.”
    She had to struggle not to smile. “I hadn’t realized that.”
    â€œBecause you probably haven’t wasted your time studying philosophy.”
    She nodded in agreement. “I don’t think freethinking is ever encouraged if a young woman fails to master her music lessons.”
    He laughed. “I take it you won’t be entertaining the staff with any private pianoforte performances?”
    Her smile outpaced her determination to not be charmed by her mentor. “And risk ending up on the doorstep for causing trouble? Mrs. Evans would insist on my removal if I sang a single note, Dr. West.” She decided to redirect the conversation away from her shortcomings. “Whatever happened to your friend, the young philosopher?”
    â€œHe died of a fever that summer, along with his sisters and parents.” It was a statement of fact, almost devoid of emotion, and Gayle was sure that there was more to the tale as an awkward silence held them in place.
    â€œAnd here”—he walked over to another door at the end of the room and pushed it open for her inspection—“is your room. Not appointed with a lady in mind, I’m afraid, but you have your own water closet through there, and it should do well enough.”
    Gayle peered in and tried not to let her disappointment show. Unlike the pretty guest room below with its soft butter yellow walls and rosewood furniture, this was as stark and austere a tiny bedroom as she had ever encountered. A narrow wrought iron cot with a white cotton mattress was set against the wall, a single small dresser standing sentinel next to it. Two windows set high with white eyelet curtains kept the room from total gloom, but it was hard to see it in a cheery light. The floor was bare of rugs and the walls devoid of ornamentation beyond a framed mirror and a faded print advertising the Great Exhibition of 1851.
    â€œIt’s . . . very nice.”
    â€œMind yourself!” Mrs. Evans interrupted the exchange, her arms full of fresh bedding and towels. “I brought up a few things to make the room a little cozier for the miss.”
    Her relief was instantaneous. “How kind of you, Mrs. Evans!”
    Mrs. Evans grunted in response, unceremoniously dropping her large bundle on the cot. “One of the footmen will carry up your things later. You can settle yourself in, I’m sure. You make your own bed and I’ll collect dirty laundry once a week on Monday. See that you have it ready before breakfast. Florence will come in for a sweep and a dust that afternoon, but she’s not a ladies’ maid! You’re to see to your own needs and keep your room in good order.”
    Gayle had to bite the inside of her mouth at the woman’s tone, since she wasn’t used to being addressed like a servant, much less used to making her own bed and “seeing to her own needs.” But Rowan was right at her elbow, looking at her expectantly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was happily anticipating some little temper tantrum on her part over Mrs. Evans’s brisk treatment.
    I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to! And I’m not quibbling over a lack of wallpaper!
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Evans. Please assure Florence that I’ll try not to overtax her.”
    Mrs. Evans’s gruffness suffered a bit at the softness of Gayle’s tone, and she wavered in the doorway before departing. “Will . . . will you be eating with the staff or . . .”
    Rowan intervened. “Miss Renshaw will either dine with me on the first floor or, more often, in her room, I suspect. Her studies will keep her