Read Lady Beauchamp's Proposal for Free Online Page A

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was she to sway the marquess when she looked like a bedraggled cat
and could barely sit upright?
    She reached for her reticule and retrieved
her reference, relieved to find it was relatively dry. She would
just have to let the words of The Right Honorable, Countess of
Beauchamp, impress Lord Rothsburgh. The way she currently looked
and felt, she would be lucky if the marquess didn’t toss her out
onto the doorstep.
    Long minutes passed in which she fought the
urge to sink into the welcoming arms of sleep. Surprisingly, one of
the deerhounds stood, stretched his rangy body, and then came and
placed his large shaggy head on her lap. She stroked one of his
silky ears, and the hound let out a contented sigh. If only Lord
Rothsburgh could be so easily pleased .
    “Mrs. Eliott.”
    Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Mr. James
had returned. He was placing a tea tray onto the low table beside
her.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. I seem to have drifted off,”
she said, forcing herself to sit upright. She dropped the blanket
from her shoulders as she had begun to feel decidedly warm. A bead
of perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades. “Is Lord
Rothsburgh coming?”
    Mr. James cocked an eyebrow and smiled.
“Yes. In fact he’s already here.”
    Elizabeth glanced about the room. There was
no one else in the library besides herself and Mr. James. It was
then that she noticed the butler was wearing a superbly tailored
coat of black superfine with a neatly tied cravat at his
throat.
    Pure, undiluted horror swept over her.
    “Oh, no.” She couldn’t believe she had been
so stupid. How could she not have realized that Mr. James was in
fact James Huntly, the sixth Marquess of Rothsburgh? She had
researched his lineage in Debrett’s Baronetage and Peerage before
she’d left London. Her heart in her mouth and cold dismay gripping
her belly, she forced herself to stand, then dropped into a deep
curtsy. “Lord Rothsburgh. I’m so deeply sorry for my lack of—”
    “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Eliott,” interrupted
the marquess. “How were you to know that I, Lord Rothsburgh, would
answer the door? Now sit back down before you fall down.”
    She subsided onto the settee again, her
cheeks burning. In her wildest imaginings, she could not have
envisaged anything as nightmarish as this. “I…I don’t know what to
say, my lord,” she said. “Please forgive my presumption—”
    “Mrs. Eliott, I think I preferred it when
you were rude to me.” Lord Rothsburgh smiled at her, a decided
spark of amusement in his dark brown eyes. He bent over the tea
tray and deftly poured her a steaming cup. “How do you take your
tea?”
    “A little milk. No sugar thank you,” she
replied meekly as she removed her gloves.
    Lord Rothsburgh handed her a cup and saucer
of the finest bone china—the pattern was Wedgwood if she wasn’t
mistaken. She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring the soothing
liquid. She could have sworn that the tea was a smoky Lapsang
Souchong, her favorite blend.
    “I can see you have made friends with
Rosencrantz.”
    Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked down.
The deerhound that had been resting his head on her knee earlier
was now lying at her feet, his head on her boots. She smiled then
glanced over to where Lord Rothsburgh sat in a leather wing chair
opposite her.
    “Guildenstern, I take it, obviously prefers
your company, my lord.” The other deerhound had moved over to his
master’s side, his head on the marquess’s lap.
    “More fool him,” replied Lord Rothsburgh,
his dark gaze roaming over her.
    Elizabeth felt her already feverish cheeks
grow hotter, and she glanced toward the dog at her feet. A
misanthrope she could deal with, but a darkly handsome voluptuary?
She had not anticipated the marquess would be such a man; which was
quite short-sighted really—men of his class often lived a
hedonistic lifestyle.
    She should know considering she was married
to one of the worst offenders.
    But perhaps Lord