Free Anne Barbour by A Rakes Reform

most people would call a Season—and I was never so bored in my life. The whole time was spent in places I would rather not have been, conversing with persons who appeared to have not one idea to rub against another.”
    What a strange little woman she was, thought Thorne in surprise. Her eyes were really quite beautiful, but set in such a plain little face. ... Or no, she was not in truth plain, was she? Her nose was well shaped, above a mouth that curved full and warm, particularly when she was laughing, and a round little chin that seemed created for cupping in one’s fingers. It was her militant expression that made her so unattractive, he decided, plus, of course, her dowdy clothes—to say nothing of the starchy caps of linen and lace she wore pinned to hair pulled back so tightly it must make her eyes water. He smiled. Despite her best efforts, a few tendrils always escaped to curl temptingly about her cheeks.
    It was a lovely color—her hair. He tried to picture it unconfined and hanging down her back. Would a man feel compelled to fill his hands with it? To run its silken length through his fingers?
    Steady on, old horse, he thought, startled. Of all the women of his acquaintance, this particular female was the least likely candidate for a spot of dalliance. He pulled his mind back to what she was saying, something about the corn laws, for God’s sake.
    “Well, do you, my lord?” she was saying.
    “Do I what, Miss Blayne?”
    She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Do you not agree that the law in its present state is positively iniquitous?”
    Thorne was about to utter a pat rejoinder when Miss Blayne continued tartly, “My lord, if you are about to tell me not to worry my pretty little head about such matters, I may be forced to disembowel you.” She waved her dessert fork menacingly.
    Larkie gasped, and Chloe raised her head, startled. Thorne burst into laughter. “Having been forewarned, I shall do nothing of the sort. But, you must admit,” he concluded slyly, “it is highly unusual for a female to express herself so vehemently on a subject that does not involve fashion or household management, or—
    “Or how to entice a husband,” finished Hester, laying aside her weapon but retaining the acid in her tone.
    Not that the little termagant would be able to converse sensibly on any of those topics, thought the earl. Particularly the latter. Lord, he pitied the man who found himself leg-shackled to the self-righteous Miss Blayne. He would be sliced to shreds by that double-bladed tongue inside a fortnight.
    And yet, he mused, she had accomplished a miracle with his ward. Look at the chit, bending demurely over her dinner as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He supposed he could count on this pleasant state of affairs only until Miss Blayne took her leave on the morrow. He shuddered inwardly, almost dreading his guests ’ departure.
    On the other hand ... A thought struck him, so abruptly that he almost spilled his wine into his lap. No, he thought a moment later, the whole idea was preposterous. And yet... He glanced pensively across the table.
    “Miss Blayne, do allow me to pour you a little more of this excellent Chambertin,” he said silkily.
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    After dinner, the earl, declining to remain in a solitary state with the port decanter, accompanied the ladies to the music room, where Chloe entertained at the pianoforte. Though not technically skilled, she played with a great deal of expression and the applause she engendered was quite genuine.
    Afterward, Thorne’s offer of a guided tour of the manor was accepted by Hester and Miss Larkin with alacrity. Chloe trailed the group with a pretty show of enthusiasm.
    “As you have probably already surmised,” said the earl, “the original house was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth. The owner at that time was Henry Trent, the fourth Baron Trent. The earldom came several generations later, and in the meantime the house