Under An English Moon Read Online Free

on this street. Too far from the tourist areas.” She turned back toward the living room. “There are candles on the fireplace mantle. I flipped the switch to turn on the lights, and the name of this place is my apartment in New York City.” She thought she’d answered all his questions in the right order.
    “Now seriously, where did you come from?” Phoebe asked, crossing her arms. “I totally believe you come from England, but I don’t think you just left your horse on a road near your father’s country home.”
    “But it is the truth, Miss Warner. I swear it upon my honor. I am as taken aback as you. I cannot possibly be in New York!”
    Phoebe found his gesture of hand over heart irresistible, and she decided then and there she wanted to keep him. Not that he was a toy or anything, but he was the cutest confused man she’d ever met! He had a definite little-boy-lost thing going that entranced her.
    “Look, why don’t you take off your hat and have a seat, Reginald? I’ll make us some coffee. Then we can figure out how to help you,” Phoebe said in her best motherly tone. “I promise, you are not going to open that door and find yourself with your horse in England...not without a great deal of travel.”
    Reginald opened his mouth as if to protest, but closed it as Phoebe held out her hand for his hat. He removed it and handed it to her.
    “Your coat?”
    He shrugged out of his coat and gave that to her as well. Phoebe sighed inwardly. She had been right. He did have broad shoulders. His double-breasted cobalt blue dress coat showed a narrow waist. He looked like the quintessential Georgian-era Englishman, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
    “Shall I sit here, Miss Warner?” Reginald looked down at the chocolate brown chenille sofa.
    “Yes, please,” Phoebe said, releasing a quiet sigh. She laid his coat and hat across a matching easy chair and made her way over to the kitchen area of the open concept apartment.
    “How do you take your coffee?” Phoebe called out as she threw a single serving of coffee into the instant coffee brewer.
    “Cream and sugar,” Reginald said.
    “I hope milk and sugar are okay. I don’t have any cream.”
    “Yes, that will suffice, thank you.” Reginald rose and approached the breakfast bar of the kitchen. “Forgive me for shouting at you from across the room.”
    “Oh!” Phoebe murmured in some confusion. She hadn’t thought they were shouting. The apartment was only about 700 square feet. “Okay. Have a seat.” She nodded toward the high-backed, cushioned barstools. “Coffee will be ready in a second.”
    Reginald slid onto a stool and watched her with a look of avid curiosity. Phoebe’s cheeks flamed under his gaze.
    “Do you not have a cook, Miss Warner?” He looked over his shoulder. “For that matter, do you have a companion? Surely, you do not live alone.”
    Phoebe, in the act of popping another container of coffee for herself into the instant brewer, paused. She reminded herself that she really didn’t know him and should use caution. No sense in revealing everything.
    “A cook?” she laughed nervously. “No, not me. I think my cousin Annie has food delivered when she lives here. I mean, when she’s here...which will be at any moment.” A lie, but he would probably never know. It seemed likely that he really didn’t know Annie. Had a previous owner left a key? Hadn’t Annie rekeyed the place when she moved in?
    “Ah!” he said. “Yes, of course, a cousin.” He nodded toward the coffeemaker. “And what is that device?”
    “An instant coffeemaker? It’s my cousin’s. I can’t afford anything like this. It’s pretty nice though, makes coffee in a jiff.”
    “And how is it heated?”
    “Plug it in?” Phoebe wasn’t about to start describing electricity. They had electricity in England.
    Reginald shook his head in apparent confusion.
    “Here.” Phoebe handed him his coffee. “Let’s go sit on the couch and figure out