Free Midnight Rose by Patricia Hagan

free.”
    “You should be able to afford to go anywhere you want to. I hear your stepfather is quite well off.”
    “I don’t want to spend his money,” she said quickly, sharply, then hastened to explain, “My mother wouldn’t hear of me traveling alone. That’s what I mean about envying you. Men can do anything they want to.”
    “Well, maybe one day you’ll marry a man who likes to travel as much as you do.”
    She laughed, a soft, wistful sound. “If I wait till then, I’ll be too old to travel.”
    “A beautiful young woman like you? Come now, Erin. I imagine you’ve got your pick of beaux.”
    “If that were true,” she challenged with a sudden lift of her chin, “why would my mother have insisted I show up at the ball without an invitation? If men were flocking to my doorstep, it wouldn’t have been necessary for me to humiliate myself, would it?”
    “I only meant—”
    “You were only being polite,” she corrected sharply, “because I’m sure you know all about my stepfather, how my mother and I aren’t received by Richmond society due to his less than favorable reputation.”
    “I guess I have,” he admitted quietly, “and I think it’s unfair.”
    Erin couldn’t resist pointing out, “I don’t recall my mother ever being invited to call at your home, Mr. Youngblood.”
    He stiffened, momentarily unnerved by her candor, then recovered to admit, “Frankly, I didn’t know you or your mother existed till the night of the ball. I’d heard of your stepfather. Few people haven’t, but where have you been?”
    “Atlanta,” she said with a shrug. “Living with my aunt. Otherwise, my mother would probably have been dragging me around trying to find a suitable husband for me long before now.”
    His lips were twitching, amused by her self-deprecating humor. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Erin. I can’t imagine any man letting animosity for your stepfather stand in the way of pursuing a lovely woman like you. I know I wouldn’t—if I happened to be looking for a wife.”
    Erin was quick to inform him, “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t happen to think marriage is all life holds for a woman, whether she’s pretty or not. I like to think there are options.”
    “Such as?” He raised an eyebrow, delighted at her spunk.
    “I’m not sure, but there has to be something.” Then, wanting to turn the conversation from herself, said, “I’d like to hear about Paris, about France. Tell me what it’s really like.”
    Ryan was only too happy to oblige, for, despite the memories that were unpleasant, he had been entranced by the country and its people. He told her about Paris in October, when the days grew shorter. Dusk fell by four o’clock, and how cozy it was to have the valet de chambre light the logs in the fireplace, and sit there having tea in the cheerful glow while watching the violet twilight creep over the city.
    He told her about the magic of Versailles in autumn when gold and russet leaves drift among the all é es. He painted for her with words a tapestry of beauty to be found in the chateaux of the Loire, the parterres of brilliant chrysanthemums in Chenonceaux, and the splendor of the Tuilleries gardens after a sculpturing snow. And he made her thirst as he described the taste of wine with roasted pheasant or partridge in Burgundy.
    Absently, as he talked so spiritedly and she listened, enchanted, they had walked along the soft, grassy banks, finally resting beneath the whispering fronds of the weeping willow. It was only when fireflies began to dance in the gathering shadows that they realized the afternoon had passed.
    Erin scrambled to her feet, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. “I have to get back. It’s suppertime, and my mother will be worried, because I’m always home before now.”
    She started to turn away, but suddenly Ryan yielded to the longing that had been building all afternoon. Almost roughly he caught her about her