Mischief by Moonlight Read Online Free Page B

something helpful in motion and step away.
    â€œI’ll think about it. But simply taking a woman to London won’t ensure her happiness, Josephine. Plenty of terrible marriages are made there.”
    â€œI know.” Her blue eyes twinkled merrily. “It’s incredibly lucky for me and Nicholas that you brought us together at Greenbrier.”
    â€œIndeed,” he managed to say. He was beginning to wonder how much longer he could stand there talking to her, because once she began thanking him for bringing her and Nick together, the conversation always turned to Nick’s fine qualities. And while his friend did have many, listening to Josie sing his praises made Colin wish he were deaf.
    â€œTell me again how you met him,” she said.
    Not that story again. He knew why she loved to hear it—Nick came off heroically, and hearing about him was the closest she could get right now to being with him. Buoyant, roguish Nick, who made Colin laugh better than anyone. Underneath Nick’s golden-boy looks and charm lurked a sharp mind and a competitive streak that had lured Colin into all manner of contests, though never once over a woman.
    And they weren’t in competition over a woman now.
    A surge of jealousy coursed through him, but he told himself this was the best possible thing, that recounting Nick’s deeds to Josie would strike a blow against every wrong thing in him that was yearning for her. He forced himself.
    â€œIt was the heady days of university,” he began in a long-winded tone, but she rolled her eyes, a long-suffering smile quivering at the edges of her lips.
    â€œI know that. Get to the good part.”
    He sighed theatrically, which made her laugh, thus defeating the purpose of telling the story to make himself face how much she was not for him. He got on with it, this medicine he needed to spoon down.
    â€œI was punting on the Cherwell River and facing backward because I’d caught a fascinating view of some of the university buildings. Unfortunately, I had neglected to notice the low bridge ahead, and was knocked on the head as I passed under it and fell unconscious into the river.
    â€œBut fortunately for me, someone was walking by at that moment. This was one Nicholas Hargrave, Cambridge student, and as I was at the superior institution of Oxford, as yet unknown to me. He was strolling purposelessly along the banks, doubtless thinking of mundane things. Unfinished work, dreamy calculations of his athletic prowess, what he wanted for dinner. Old Nicholas—”
    â€œColin,” she interrupted with a satisfying note of exasperation, “you have to tell it the right way.”
    â€œYou mean in which he is thoroughly painted as Sir Galahad? It is painful to gush so about a man. But I suppose to please a lady…Well, Nick saw me disappearing under the water and dove into the Cherwell and pulled me out. And very gloating about it he was, too, when I finally came round, going on about how much better Cambridge punters are than Oxford punters.”
    She was laughing heartily now, her eyes all lit up and crinkling at the edges, and even though she was laughing at him and enjoying the past triumph of her hero Nick, Colin was the one who’d made her laugh, and for just that moment, he allowed himself to be happy that he’d given her this pleasure.
    â€œUngracious of him,” he continued, “with me lying there, an enormous lump forming on the back of my head.”
    â€œYou never told me about the lump before. Poor you.”
    â€œYou don’t seem very sorry for me.”
    She put her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “Oh, Ivorwood, who could feel sorry for you? You’re the perfect person to laugh at because you’re the earl, and you already have everything.”
    Right.
    Something flickered in her eyes. “Except a wife, of course,” she said playfully.
    Now here was a conversation he definitely