Read Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway for Free Online

civilized fashion during dinner, and she knew she deserved any chastisement he chose to dole out.
    Even so, Miranda had her standards. She remained where she was, ignoring the pain shooting through her ankle, wondering if she was expected to speak first. Thanks to Miss Frobisher, Miranda was intimately acquainted with precisely the right depth of curtsey to make to a duchess, could perform every dance currently in vogue—and a few that weren’t—understood whom she could and could not address at a dinner table, and so much more. Unfortunately, her education had failed her in one vital regard. It had neglected to advise her on the rules of conduct when dining unchaperoned in a single gentleman’s residence.
    Miss Frobisher would have palpitations if Miranda spoke when she should not. She would have the vapours anyway if she’d been aware of Miranda’s situation. The idea of disappointing that paragon of etiquette amused Miranda, and afforded her the courage to see this thing through. Her lips twitched as she squared her shoulders and looked directly at Lord Gabriel, deciding to wait for him to speak first.
    He didn’t do so, but instead a slow, curling smile lit up his features. Intelligent brown eyes gleamed with a combination of amusement and—could it be?—approval. The guardian angel whose image had plagued her dreams, warming parts of her body that even the fever had left unaffected, was no myth. He was standing before her now, easily as handsome as he’d been in her dream, and he no longer seemed the slightest bit annoyed with her.
     

Chapter Three
    Gabe was hard-pressed to conceal his astonishment at the remarkable transformation. The half dead child he’d rescued a couple of days ago was now a desirable full-grown woman. Grown in all the right places, he conceded, his eyes lingering on her décolletage. He recognised the gown she wore as being one of his sister-in-law Electra’s. Someone had added a fichu to the bodice, presumably to preserve a degree of modesty. Their efforts were wasted since the inadequate triangle of lace only succeeded in drawing Gabe’s attention to the firm, pert breasts beneath it.
    He transferred his gaze to Miss Cantrell’s face, deciding that the dusting of freckles across her small nose suited her. Her creamy complexion remained pale, but her skin was otherwise smooth and unblemished. Her piercing blue eyes regarded him with a combination of curiosity and anxiety but she met his gaze without blinking, a defiant half smile playing about plump, rosy lips.
    “Miss Cantrell.” He extended a hand and clasped hers in it. “I’m pleased to see you looking so much better.”
    She curtsied and almost toppled over. He’d been told that she had a sprained ankle but had forgotten everything he’d learned about her—which was precious little—the moment she walked through the door looking so composed, so unexpectedly sophisticated, and yet unable to completely hide her apprehension. He reached forward and steadied her.
    “Thank you, Lord Gabriel. I’m almost completely better and I ought to—”
    “Shush, later.” He turned his attention to Tobias and ruffled his ears with the hand not supporting Miss Cantrell’s elbow. “Good evening, Tobias.”
    Tobias woofed, wagged his tail and licked Gabe’s hand.
    “Allow me to present my neighbour, Mrs. Grantley,” he said.
    Miss Cantrell blinked. Clearly she hadn’t seen the small woman dressed in dark colours seated on the opposite side of the fire. Cautious by nature, Gabe had considered it wise to have another female present, at least until he got to the bottom of Miss Cantrell’s unorthodox arrival at the Hall. He was grateful to Mrs. Grantley for answering his plea at such short notice.
    “My dear, how are you?” Mrs. Grantley’s kindly eyes sparkled with concern. “Lord Gabriel told me you almost froze to death.”
    “Thank you, ma’am,” she replied, curtsying again. “Everyone has been so kind, and I’m feeling