Read To Pleasure a Duke for Free Online
Authors: Sara Bennett
answer for them both.
“Do you have any Moroccan punch?” Terry said eagerly.
Sinclair curled his lip. “Good God no,” he said in what Eugenie could almost have called a sneer—a far more credible sneer than Terry’s earlier attempt. “Surely that is only for bounders?”
They set off across one of the wide paths that crossed the immaculate lawn, shaded by old beeches and oaks. After his set-down Terry wasn’t in a hurry to keep up with them, lagging behind like a sulky child.
“I’ve often remembered our meeting in the lane,” Sinclair said, sneer gone.
“Oh?” Eugenie felt herself flushing at her own memories. “I hoped you might forgive and forget, Your Grace,” she ventured.
“I never forget and rarely forgive,” he answered swiftly.
She gave him a doubtful glance.
“Jack has shown himself an incredible horse handler,” he went on.
Of course, he was talking about Jack! she realized, disappointed.
“I would be happy to offer him work here at Somerton when he is of age. What plans does your father have for his schooling? I understand he has lessons with the local parson?”
He made it sound far direr than it was, and Eugenie sprang to the defense of her family. “Reverend Kearnen is an Oxford man. He taught Terry and will be taking on the twins soon.”
Did Sinclair give a shudder?
How extremely rude of him! Even if his attitude was understandable, having met them on one of their worst possible days, she would have expected better manners from him. Sinclair may be the most eligible man in England but he was certainly not the most perfect.
“Do you think your father would be amenable to Jack coming to Somerton?”
Eugenie knew what Jack would wish to do, and she suspected her father would be more than happy to grant him that wish. If the price was tempting enough.
“You must ask him about that,” she said uncomfortably.
His smile was enigmatic, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
The silence drew on.
“Your Grace, I want to apologize for my father’s behavior regarding Erik. Asking for—for money from you, when you had been so generous. It was inexcusable. I hope you did not think I knew anything of the matter, for I assure you that I did not. I have told my father he should return your ten guineas immediately.”
He looked down into her eyes, so green and fierce it was difficult for him to look away. “Never mind that,” he said gruffly, when only a moment before he’d been seething over the very same matter. “I was glad to take care of Erik, despite his propensity to send my gardeners flying.” His lips curled, but this time it was into a smile. “Did you know he broke out of his yard and made a foray into the vegetable garden? We were worried he’d overeaten but he came through. He seems to have a taste for turnips and they don’t like him. Or so I’m told.”
Eugenie was trying not to laugh. “Oh dear,” she said shakily, putting a hand to her mouth. “I am sorry. We should have p-paid you to keep him, not the other way around.”
“Yes.”
She gave him a sharp look and he wondered whether he’d overstepped the mark. He had a habit of putting peoples’ backs up—not that it worried him particularly. Well, not normally. But in this case he found himself wishing to be thought well of by Miss Belmont. He much preferred her smiles to her frowns. And he felt an uncharacteristic urge to flirt with her and tightened the reins on it. The Duke of Somerton did not flirt, especially not with girls like Miss Eugenie Belmont.
“Would you like a tour of the house? The gardens are sometimes open to the public, but my mother refuses to have the masses tramping their muddy boots through the house.” He spoke the words before he remembered she was one of “the masses.”
She was looking at him with her deep green eyes, as if she could read his very heart, and he held his breath. But all she said was, “We’d love a tour of your house, thank you, Your
“Do you have any Moroccan punch?” Terry said eagerly.
Sinclair curled his lip. “Good God no,” he said in what Eugenie could almost have called a sneer—a far more credible sneer than Terry’s earlier attempt. “Surely that is only for bounders?”
They set off across one of the wide paths that crossed the immaculate lawn, shaded by old beeches and oaks. After his set-down Terry wasn’t in a hurry to keep up with them, lagging behind like a sulky child.
“I’ve often remembered our meeting in the lane,” Sinclair said, sneer gone.
“Oh?” Eugenie felt herself flushing at her own memories. “I hoped you might forgive and forget, Your Grace,” she ventured.
“I never forget and rarely forgive,” he answered swiftly.
She gave him a doubtful glance.
“Jack has shown himself an incredible horse handler,” he went on.
Of course, he was talking about Jack! she realized, disappointed.
“I would be happy to offer him work here at Somerton when he is of age. What plans does your father have for his schooling? I understand he has lessons with the local parson?”
He made it sound far direr than it was, and Eugenie sprang to the defense of her family. “Reverend Kearnen is an Oxford man. He taught Terry and will be taking on the twins soon.”
Did Sinclair give a shudder?
How extremely rude of him! Even if his attitude was understandable, having met them on one of their worst possible days, she would have expected better manners from him. Sinclair may be the most eligible man in England but he was certainly not the most perfect.
“Do you think your father would be amenable to Jack coming to Somerton?”
Eugenie knew what Jack would wish to do, and she suspected her father would be more than happy to grant him that wish. If the price was tempting enough.
“You must ask him about that,” she said uncomfortably.
His smile was enigmatic, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
The silence drew on.
“Your Grace, I want to apologize for my father’s behavior regarding Erik. Asking for—for money from you, when you had been so generous. It was inexcusable. I hope you did not think I knew anything of the matter, for I assure you that I did not. I have told my father he should return your ten guineas immediately.”
He looked down into her eyes, so green and fierce it was difficult for him to look away. “Never mind that,” he said gruffly, when only a moment before he’d been seething over the very same matter. “I was glad to take care of Erik, despite his propensity to send my gardeners flying.” His lips curled, but this time it was into a smile. “Did you know he broke out of his yard and made a foray into the vegetable garden? We were worried he’d overeaten but he came through. He seems to have a taste for turnips and they don’t like him. Or so I’m told.”
Eugenie was trying not to laugh. “Oh dear,” she said shakily, putting a hand to her mouth. “I am sorry. We should have p-paid you to keep him, not the other way around.”
“Yes.”
She gave him a sharp look and he wondered whether he’d overstepped the mark. He had a habit of putting peoples’ backs up—not that it worried him particularly. Well, not normally. But in this case he found himself wishing to be thought well of by Miss Belmont. He much preferred her smiles to her frowns. And he felt an uncharacteristic urge to flirt with her and tightened the reins on it. The Duke of Somerton did not flirt, especially not with girls like Miss Eugenie Belmont.
“Would you like a tour of the house? The gardens are sometimes open to the public, but my mother refuses to have the masses tramping their muddy boots through the house.” He spoke the words before he remembered she was one of “the masses.”
She was looking at him with her deep green eyes, as if she could read his very heart, and he held his breath. But all she said was, “We’d love a tour of your house, thank you, Your