A Bluestocking Christmas Read Online Free Page B

Anthony was growing exceedingly tiresome when it came to heeding Simon’s advice.
    In a word, it was exasperating. Damned exasperating. Anthony routinely protested Simon’s interference in his personal affairs, but it was clear his nephew needed supervision. The boy was reckless when it came to considering his family’s social status, especially where his heart were concerned. As the Earl of Claiborne, Anthony needed to be more discrete when it came to his romantic liaisons.
    With a grunt of displeasure, Simon turned the page of his newspaper and adjusted it so he could look over the top of it, while appearing to be engrossed in the paper’s content. He enjoyed reading, but this dry, musty mausoleum was the last place any of his friends would expect to find him.  
    The comforts of his personal library were far more preferable for reading than this academic fortress. His gaze swept toward the stacks of books he could see from the main reading area. Tomes of every shape and size filled the shelves that disappeared into the depths of the building. Although the London Library held a large number of valuable books and papers, Simon’s personal collection of rare books and documents was of equal value. One of the things he loved most in the world was a quiet hour in front of the fire reading a book.  
    His gaze swept around the large reading area. Wing backed chairs of dark red leather were placed in either isolated locations or small groups with squat mahogany tables nearby. Flames in the large fireplace that heated the room crackled softly in the silence of the large room. The pristine marble columns encircling the circulation desk and adjacent reading area only reinforced the austere nature of the library.
      In truth, this was the last place he’d expected Anthony to encounter an unsuitable woman. When he’d suggested that the boy take up an intellectual activity within this tomb, Simon had thought the boy would be free of distractions. Of all the conceivable possibilities, the thought of Anthony meeting a woman of undesirable character here had been the furthest from Simon’s mind. Frowning, he returned his gaze to the woman behind the circulation desk and grunted his displeasure.  
    Why the devil couldn’t the boy find a woman his own age to dally with and preferably in the same social sphere? Ivy Beecham appeared closer to Simon’s age, making her at least five to ten years older than his nephew. Simon growled his displeasure again. Across from him, a library patron rustled the paper he held and shot Simon a glare of irritation. Arching his eyebrow, Simon returned the man’s hard stare. White eyebrows furrowing to form a straight line, the older gentleman uttered a barely audible harrumph before burying his head back in his paper.  
    Soft laughter drew Simon’s attention back to the woman behind the circulation desk. A soft pink flushed her cheeks as she handed an elderly man a book. The patron grinned as he took the leather volume, then caught her hand and brushed her fingertips with his lips. The red in her cheeks deepened as she shook her head in reproach. With a laugh, the dapper gentleman shrugged with amusement and walked away.  
    Something about the scene irritated Simon. It was easy to see how the woman had seduced Anthony into thinking he was in love with her. Even from here, she presented an enticing picture. Sunshine streamed in from one of the windows above her to reveal auburn highlights in the dark brown of her hair. Skin the color of an unripe peach still possessed a rosy hue as she assisted another patron.  
    Tall and with abundant curves in all the places Simon liked the most in a woman, Ivy Beecham was a tempting sight. The high neck of her white shirtwaist was clearly meant to give her the appearance of a serious academician, but all it did was emphasize the voluptuous curve of her full breasts. Of its own accord, his cock stirred in his trousers. Irritated at the way his body reacted, he