Lady's Wager Read Online Free Page A

him with adequate facilities.
    “Miss Stuart, young ladies don’t usually frequent this
section of Hookham’s.”
    The strong male voice startled Charlotte, causing her to
drop her books. She spun around to discover Lord Woodcliff behind her, his blue
eyes beneath his solid brow fixing on hers with stunning intensity. She’d been
so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him approach. Now, with him before her,
every notion deserted her except for fascination with his smile and the way the
light from the windows fell over the solid curve of his shoulders. He stood a
good head taller than her, his chest wide and sturdy beneath his well-fitted
coat of dark green wool.
    He laid his book on the shelf then bent to retrieve hers
from the floor. His arm muscle flexed beneath his sleeve as he held the weight
of the tomes he stacked in the crook of his elbow. His strength proved as
stunning as his sudden appearance, and the pull of his dun colored breeches
over the curve of his knee. She shouldn’t be admiring him, or allowing him to
assist her, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about his
confidence and the ease with which he moved which captured her attention.
    He paused to examine the slimmest of the tomes then
glanced up, one eyebrow arched. “I thought ladies shunned such subjects as
surgery and disease?”
    His comment snapped her out of her unexpected and
unnerving fugue.
    “I’ve heard a great deal today about gentlemen’s
expectations of ladies.” Charlotte snatched the book from him. “Gentlemen would
do well to learn not all ladies are hen-witted.”
    “I’m glad to hear it, for society is already overrun with
wet geese.” He rose and beneath the high linen of his cravat, his neck muscles
tightened as he held out the stack to her.
    Charlotte studied him in an attempt to discern if he was
mocking her or if he was serious, but his expression held no hint of the
arrogance he’d exhibited at the Royal Academy.
    “You have an interest in science?” she asked, curiosity
momentarily overcoming her irritation as she slid the books from his hands. Her
fingers brushed his, sending a spark racing through her. She clutched the stack
against her to both protect and steady herself. She could hardly believe this
was the same gentleman she’d spoken with only the week before, and she was
acting like a besotted fool in his presence. It wasn’t like her.
    “Only in regards to artistic renderings.” He slid his book
off the shelf where he’d laid it and held it up. It was a botany book with
detailed drawings of exotic plants from the Americas. “I find paintings of
plants and animals fascinating, especially those from the Colonies. I look
forward to discussing both with you tonight at your soirée. Thank you for the invitation.”
    “You have Lord Ashford to thank,” she replied, resisting
the urge to inform him he’d only been invited in an effort to encourage Lord
Ashford and Elizabeth’s suit. “He’s a generous man and a great patron of the
hospital. Many London gentlemen could learn from his example.”
    “I’ll endeavor to study him. Good day, Miss Stuart.” He
bowed, then strode away with a surety she admired.
    She flexed her fingers over the edges of the books, her
arms beginning to burn under their weight. For a man of slender means, Lord
Woodcliff’s coat was well tailored to cover his broad back to where it tapered
to a narrow waist. His stature, as well as his neat and understated clothes
stood in stark contrast to the reed thin dandies in their bright blue coats and
the stocky old men with wrinkled collars filling the lending library. No doubt
Lord Woodcliff had a tailor’s bill as weighty as her reading selection, with no
intention of paying it until he found himself a rich wife.
    She returned to browsing the shelves, the reminder of his
lack of money helping her regain her focus, but every now and again the deep
tones of Lord Woodcliff’s voice would rumble beneath the murmurs of