Read No Groom at the Inn: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novella for Free Online

blissfully unaware of all the currents of want flowing through the room—the ladies wanting Jamie, Jamie wanting (apparently) to irk Sophronia, Sophronia finding she wished to discover a way to disturb his casual charm.
    “My lady, you are the Earl of Lunsford’s daughter, are you not?” It was the vicar—Mr. Chandler, she thought—addressing her, thankfully taking her attention away from the current conversation between James and the girl who was indeed the viscountess’s daughter, who seemed to believe she had been an African princess in a previous life.
    “Yes, I am. That is, I was. Father passed away two years ago.” Leaving behind a massive amount of books, little debt, but even fewer funds for his daughter.
    “I am so sorry, my lady. I was a great admirer of your father’s, I might even go so far as to say we were acquaintances. He and I exchanged a few letters on etymological issues several years ago. I keep those letters still.”
    “Ah,” Sophronia replied. “Father was an avid correspondent.” He rarely left the house, in fact, preferring to live his life through books and letters rather than venturing outside. In hindsight, perhaps it was just as well; if he had gone out more, he would have spent more money, and Sophronia would have been among the chickens much earlier than this. There definitely would not have been the opportunity Mr. Archer had presented.
    “Do you share his love of words?”
    Sophronia opened her mouth to respond in the negative, but realized that wasn’t the case. “I do,” she said, feeling a fragment of warmth at the memory of her father. She’d lost her mother too young for her to recall, so it had been just her and him for as long as she had awareness. “Father made the very startling decision not to hire a governess for me, so he oversaw my instruction. He was an engaging teacher, even if his skills at maths left something to be desired.” That went a long way toward explaining his financial difficulties. She didn’t know if he was even aware of just how dire their straits were. Although he would know for certain that it was “straits,” not “straights.”
    “You were so lucky to have the benefit of a mind like that,” the vicar said in an admiring tone of voice.
    “I suppose so,” Sophronia replied with a smile, unable to deny his enthusiasm.
    “Would you—do you suppose you would be so gracious as to visit my rectory and see some of the books I’ve collected? I know your father approved of some of my purchases, he was very helpful in advising me about them.” He seemed to realize what he’d asked her, and turned a bright shade of red. “That is, with your betrothed, of course, and perhaps others of the party who would like to visit.”
    Sophronia suppressed a giggle at Mr. Archer being forced to go look at someone’s musty collection of books when, from what she had gathered, he was a collector of remarkable and often dangerous artifacts, nothing nearly so prosaic as books. Written in English, no less. “We would love to, Mr. Chandler, thank you for the invitation.”
    It would serve him right for the whole hieroglyphics incident.

 
    Wheeple:
    1. The handled end of a sword.
    2. Melancholy; prone to sadness.
    3. To utter a somewhat protracted shrill cry, like the curlew or plover; also, to whistle feebly.

 
    C HAPTER S IX
    H is pretend betrothed was ending up being far more bothersome to his state of mind than he would like, Jamie thought sourly. He glanced down the table to where she was in an animated conversation with a youngish gentleman that Jamie thought might be the curate, or one of the young ladies’ brothers. He was gazing at her with what looked like near adoration.
    And Jamie couldn’t blame him. Just as she had the previous evening, Sophronia was wearing a lovely gown that seemed as though it had been specifically designed to make her look as beautiful and goddesslike as possible.
    Its lines were simple, in stark contrast to the