The Courtship Read Online Free

not two feet on the other side of the door. Your jaw has probably dropped halfway to the floor because you are eavesdropping. Please pick up your jaw, bring some tea, and some of Cook’s delicious mince clappers.”
    They heard a harrumph from the corridor.
    Lord Beecham’s eyebrow rose a good inch. “Dare I ask? Did you say mince clappers?”
    â€œYes. Our cook, Mrs. Clapper, is from the far north, just at the southern edge of the Cheviot Hills. The recipe descends from her mother’s side of the family, sheep farmers all of them, going back many hundreds of years. It’s a special sort of pastry made with raisins, apples, cinnamon, currants, and oranges, all ground together. It is quite delicious, really.”
    â€œIt sounds rather strange to me, Alexandra. With all of it ground up, do you think there might be some sheep parts in there she hasn’t told you about?”
    â€œIf there are, you can’t taste them.”
    â€œPerhaps I won’t indulge in the clappers at this time.”
    â€œNow, Spenser, you were just saying how there were many different schools of discipline. There are also many different kinds of pastries to be tried. I expect you to be eager to expand your culinary knowledge. In short, my dear sir, don’t be a coward.”
    â€œThe ultimate weapon, a direct blow to the manhood. Bring on the clappers.”
    Ten minutes later, Lord Beecham was enthusiastically chewing a mouthful of clapper when, without warning from Mankin, the big girl came sweeping into the drawing room.
    â€œAlexandra, I will have him chasing at my heels by tomorrow evening, at the latest. Meeting him will be so very easy, and—”
    She stared at him, her expression so horrified that he laughed. That made him choke on the clapper. She was on him in an instant, slapping his back so hard he wondered if his ribs would burst through his chest.
    He managed to swallow the rest of the clapper, but since he was having a hard time breathing, he just sat there, gasping for breath as he looked up at her.
    â€œAre you all right, Lord Beecham?”
    â€œHe still can’t breathe, Helen. Give him a minute. Did she cave in your ribs, Spenser?”
    Two minutes passed before he had enough breath back in his body to speak. He looked up at the big girl. “You know me?”
    â€œOf course. I imagine that most people know you, particularly the ladies.”
    Why did she look flushed? He was the one nearly flattened. When he was finally breathing easily again, he cleared his throat, drank a bit of tea, and set the cup back on its saucer. “The reason most people know me is because I have lived in London since I was eighteen years old and quite know everyone.” He rose, came to within one foot of her, and stopped. She looked him straight in the eye.
    â€œDouglas is wrong,” Alexandra said. “You are at least two inches taller than Helen, just like he is. Douglas was telling her that he was taller than you.”
    Lord Beecham looked into those clear blue eyes. “I am one of the tallest men I know.”
    â€œDouglas is taller,” Alexandra said. “By at least an inch. Yes, I can see that clearly now.”
    â€œWell,” Helen said, “I am surely one of the tallest ladies in all of England.”
    â€œYou are a very big girl,” he said slowly, wanting to eye her up and down very thoroughly but realizing it wouldn’t be a good thing to do in Alexandra Sherbrooke’s drawing room. Instead, he picked up his teacup and toasted her.
    She laughed, a splendid sound that was full and rich and curled through his innards like a snifter of good brandy. He thought about her lying in the middle of his bed with him over her. It would be early evening, not more than six or seven hours away. His schedule was open.
    â€œNot really a girl anymore,” Helen said, giving him a beautiful smile, all white teeth and dimples deep in her cheeks. “I