Read Her Officer and Gentleman for Free Online Page A

bad habit. And then another and yet another until not even you will be able to stand my presence.”
    Beatrice laughed. “Harry is going to love hearing about this. May I tell him?”
    “Yes, but no one else.” Beth smiled at her cousin, a wistful light in her eyes. “How is Harry?”
    Beatrice’s cheeks stained pink, a pleased smile softening the effect of her protuberant nose. “Unfashionable as it is, I am mad about my own husband. And he, me. It has been that way since the beginning, and only gets worse each passing year.”
    “Maybe one day I will be so fortunate.”
    Beatrice gave her an odd look. “It will happen, Beth. When you least expect it.”
    “Perhaps. But for now, I am well protected by my st-st-st—”
    “Enough!” Beatrice giggled. “Pray do not do that when we are alone. I shall have to strangle you otherwise. Ah, Beth! You are such a minx! Your stutter should keep any sane man from falling in lovewith you.” Beatrice’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “The question is, will it keep you from falling in love with one of them ?”
    “Me? I am far too pragmatic to ever—”
    “May I have this dance?” came a deep masculine voice from behind Beth.
    She started to answer, but caught sight of Beatrice’s face. Her cousin stood, mouth open, eyes wide.
    Beth turned her head…and found herself looking up into the face of the most incredibly handsome man. He was quite tall, his shoulders broad, but it was his face that sent a flush straight through her. Black hair spilled over his forehead, his jaw firm, his mouth masculine and yet sensual. His eyes called the most attention; they were the palest green, thickly lashed, and wickedly beautiful.
    Her heart thudded, her palms grew damp, and her stomach tightened in the most irksome way. Her entire body felt leaden. What on earth was the matter with her? Had she eaten something ill for dinner that evening? Perchance a scallop, for they never failed to make her feel poorly.
    Unaware his effect was being explained away by a shellfish, the man smiled, his eyes sparkling down at her with intimate humor. “I believe I have forgotten to introduce myself. Allow me.” He bowed. “I am Viscount Westerville.”
    “Ah!” Beatrice said, breaking into movement as if she’d been shoved from behind. “Westerville! Rochester’s ba—” Color flooded her cheeks. “I mean—”
    “Yes,” the viscount said smoothly. He bowed, his gaze still riveted on Beth.
    Before she knew what he was about, he had captured her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. Heat shot up her arm and warmed her to her toes.
    “Well, Lady Elizabeth?” he asked, his breath brushing her hand. “Shall we dance?”

Chapter 3
    There are many recipes for boot blacking, some of which include such unlikely ingredients as bat’s blood extract, and dust from a corpse. I use a more simple recipe; one part candle wax to two parts champagne. When heated to the perfect temperature and rubbed on the boot with vigor, it rarely fails to leave a gloss of unprecedented brightness. And one is, of course, spared the necessity of locating a suitably dusty corpse. There are times when simplicity makes a decision for you.
    A Compleat Guide for
Being a Most Proper Butler
by Richard Robert Reeves
    A mere half hour earlier the front door of the Smythe-Singleton’s residence had been opened by the butler. Beltson would later tell the housekeeper that of all the guests who had traversed the hallway that evening, the man who entered—a viscount—was by far the most interesting. Dressedhead to foot in unrelenting black, the visitor carried himself with a coolness and self-possession that made him instantly recognizable as a man of distinction and character.
    Better yet was the brilliant emerald that burned in the man’s cravat, a jewel offset by the lord’s pale green eyes and black hair. The housekeeper had shivered when she’d heard of the viscount’s coloring, for she said