Free Meet the Earl at Midnight (Midnight Meetings) by Gina Conkle Page A

good start to a man’s day. Edward climbed out of bed, and every inch of his body roused to the knowledge of Miss Montgomery’s proximity beyond the adjoining door. Some parts stirred more than others, but the worst of it? The lady in question was prohibited and by his own proclamation—a classic paradox.
    All the more reason to lose himself in the blessed focus of work: science gave her siren’s call, and she tolerated no competition.
    Scraping blade to skin in smooth strokes, Edward acknowledged harsh facts in tepid morning light; a woman invaded his well-ordered world last night, and he raised the gates, letting her in under the interest of familial duty. Yet his gaze wandered to that adjoining door through which she charged unwelcomed last eve. Was he too hasty with that month-long demand?
    A nasty nick to his chin brought him back. A spot of blood swelled, and a thin line of red streaked the iron blade with sanguine warning: proceed with caution .
    Edward moved through the quiet house and found his way to the center of his world, his greenhouse. With the rough wood of his workbench under his palms, rich soil perfumed the air, anchoring vast arrays of plants begging to be studied. Yet Miss Lydia Montgomery, wrapped in virginal white velvet, kept dancing before him.
    Edward squeezed his eyes shut then spread them wide. He blinked and tried again to examine the white blossom under the magnification glass. Fimbriate petals morphed into a chocolate-haired woman with a proud walk and delectable form wrapped in white velvet.
    A chocolate-haired woman?
    He rolled his eyes. “Next I’ll compose sonnets in her honor.”
    Edward was certain his one-month requirement insulted her, but the rationale of simple biology won the day.
    He tried once more to reassemble his thoughts. The open journal filled with tables of facts and measurements, his deplorable chicken-scratch notes, and messy diagrams failed to bring typical clarity. Palms flattened on the workbench, Edward’s chin hit his chest, and the placket of his breeches brushed the table’s edge. Yes, mindless, baser parts of him sung their own tune, praising the dark-haired invader.
    “Hux, do we have any coffee?” His bellow bounced off the high glass ceiling.
    “Coffee, is it yer’re needin’?” an ancient voice wheezed somewhere behind a mass of green fronds and exotic, unfurling buds.
    “Yes. Black. Strong. Hot.” Edward opened his eyes.
    Huxtable, a bantam-sized man of advanced years, ambled over and set a watering can amidst rows of loam-filled tins.
    “I can check,” he said and disappeared into a smaller room in the corner of the greenhouse.
    Edward hitched a hip on the worktable and rubbed his eyes. A curious thing, this fascination with a woman he hardly knew and of no particular significance to his life prior to last night. She went along with minimum dramatics, threats to her mother notwithstanding. However, he was sure he’d made an accurate assessment of her stepfather: a pettifogger to be sure.
    He rubbed his scarred cheek. The month-long waiting period stressed his already tight timeline, but would resolve any doubts regarding Miss Montgomery’s condition and tease out possible deception. This morning’s torment proved an unexpected thorn in his flesh: the reality of a man long deprived of a woman’s charms. Huxtable’s approaching shuffle and the aroma of coffee gave him blessed relief.
    “Aye, here ye go.” Huxtable passed a cracked mug to Edward and settled on the opposite table with a steaming cup. “Don’t mind me sayin’, but ye look a bit worse for wear.” He tapped a finger to his own whiskers. “Nicked the chin, too, I see.”
    Edward put the welcome black liquid under his nose and breathed in the dark roast’s heady aroma.
    Huxtable grinned, revealing chipped, tobacco-stained teeth. “Bad night, was it?”
    He sipped the scalding brew. “I returned from London late.”
    “And I hear with a certain pretty, dark-haired miss