Free The Dark Earl by Virginia Henley Page A

such as the Earl of Durham, or Montagu, who’s heir to the dukedom of Buccleuch, why would you choose Thomas Anson?” the duchess asked her daughter.
    “The attraction is physical,” Harry explained, rolling her eyes in mock ecstasy.
    Her mother laughed. “Well, there is that, if you like the dark, dominant type.”
    “ You obviously did.”
    “Well, who could resist James Hamilton? But be warned, Harry. Anson has to work for a living, and he told me himself he couldn’t afford the luxury of a wife.”
    “Don’t worry, Mother. I don’t expect him to propose marriage.”
    “That’s precisely why I shall worry,” she said dryly.
    “What could possibly happen when I’m in the company of my maiden aunt?”
    Rachel found it difficult to keep a straight face. They heard the doorbell. “Oh, they’re here.” She pulled on her evening gloves and picked up her cloak.
    The two gentlemen awaited them downstairs in the entrance hall. When they stepped outside, Harry saw that Lord Butler had brought his carriage. She waited until he helped her young aunt inside before she spoke. “I’m sure you’d rather spend the evening alone with Rachel. I have no intention of playing gooseberry.”
    The two men exchanged a speaking glance before Butler jumped into the carriage.
    Harry tucked her arm into Anson’s. “Why don’t we walk to the corner and hail a hansom cab?”
    “Is this charade to deceive your mother?”
    “It is quite impossible to deceive Lady Lu; I’ve tried often enough. When she asked me what my attraction to you was, I told her quite frankly that it was physical .”
    “You thoroughly delight in being precocious.”
    “I freely admit it. Are you complimenting me, or censuring me?”
    “And pray, what is the difference? When I censure you, you take it as a compliment.”
    She squeezed his arm. “If I am such a sore trial, why are you courting me?”
    “You are the daughter of wealthy nobility.” He paused, then added almost reluctantly, “And you are the most attractive, maddening female in London.”
    “You seem completely dispassionate; then suddenly you say something that gives it the lie.”
    “My dispassion is a mask. I assure you, my life has been deeply affected by my emotions. I simply don’t display them.”
    “You pride yourself on being in control—of both others and yourself. I wonder what it would take to make you lose that rigid control.”
    Thomas hailed a hansom cab and helped Harry inside. He took the seat opposite her, so he could see her face in the glow of the lamp. “If you persist in your outrageous behavior, you may find out,” he warned.
    She ignored the warning. “Are you taking me to the Royal Surrey Theatre in Blackfriars to see The Widow and Her Wooers ?”
    He refused to be baited. “No, I chose a play that would appeal to someone who champions the poor and believes in equal rights for women. I’m taking you to the Pavilion in Piccadilly to see Oliver Twist. ”
    Harry’s face was suddenly transformed. Her provocative expression vanished and was replaced by a soft, radiant look as if her heart were melting. “Oh, that is so perceptive of you. Oliver Twist is the perfect choice.”
     
     
    During the first act, when Harry got a lump in her throat, she felt Thomas take her hand. During the second act, when a tear rolled down her cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. When it was over, she was crying openly and he pressed his linen handkerchief into her hand. “Oh, I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.”
    When they left the theater, Thomas said, “Come on, I know just what you need.”
    He took her down Piccadilly to Swallow Street and led the way into an oyster bar. He ordered her champagne and oysters, and he asked for the same, but with ale.
    Oh dear, the only oysters I’ve eaten have always been decently breaded. Can I do this without embarrassing myself?
    When the oysters came, Harry sipped her wine and watched her companion, and then she