Free A Gentleman Never Tells by Eloisa James Page A

and laughed. His throat was a strong, brown column, so attractive that she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, as if she could hold in the odd, explosive feelings in her stomach.
    She meant to have nothing to do with him, with men in general . . . had she forgotten that? She turned back to her book.
    She was sitting in a chair reading industriously, when her sister burst into the room.
    â€œLizzie,” Cat said, without further greeting, “you must come downstairs to supper.” Her sister dropped into a chair and scowled at her. “I’m tired of finding you in this room. I want you to go back to being yourself.”
    â€œI am myself,” Lizzie pointed out. “I couldn’t stay a girl forever, Cat. You still think of me as a five-­year-­old girl running about in a pinafore. I’m a grown woman.”
    Cat sighed. “I know you are. I just don’t want you to be such a cowardly grown woman.”
    Lizzie’s back straightened. “I’m not!”
    â€œYes, you are. You took one look at Oliver Berwick, and you ran to your room like a timid rabbit and stayed here all yesterday and today. I don’t believe for a moment that you have a headache.”
    â€œI don’t have a headache,” Lizzie admitted. “I just find my book very interesting.”
    Her sister leaned sideways so she could see the book cover. “You’re still reading The Betrothed . I forgot most of it, but it was set in the 1100s and deadly boring. Don’t try to tell me it’s interesting. I know better.”
    Lizzie closed the book. “You were never much good at reading, Cat.”
    â€œAll I remember is the heroine being forced to stay in a haunted bedchamber. Sir Walter Scott should have thought up something better than that. I’m sick of ghosts rattling their chains.”
    â€œDon’t tell me! I haven’t reached that yet.”
    â€œI’ll leave you to your medieval ghosts, but only if you come down for dinner. I promised the girls that we could have a game of croquet in the drawing room.”
    â€œWhen you played it at Christmas, didn’t your husband put a ball straight through the wall?”
    â€œThe hole’s been patched,” Cat said cheerfully. “We have new hoops, and the housekeeper has already taken up the rug. It needed to be beaten before the party arrives tomorrow anyway.”
    â€œI don’t think that you’re supposed to be pounding hoops into a drawing room floor,” Lizzie said. But she couldn’t help smiling. Her sister was such a madcap kind of person.
    â€œThat’s better!” Cat said. “I shall leave you to that unpleasant ghost. I still remember the prophecy about the heroine.”
    â€œA prophecy! Don’t tell me!” Lizzie exclaimed. But then she caught her sister’s sleeve. “No, tell me. Otherwise I won’t come to dinner because I’ll be trying to read to that point.”
    Cat stuck out her hip and flung her left hand into the air.
    â€œIs that the way the ghost looked?” Lizzie inquired.
    â€œI could be on the stage,” Cat told her. “If Joshua ever loses all his money and we have to sell this pile of stone, I’ll play Lady Macbeth in order to keep food on the table.”
    â€œNever mind that, just play the ghost for the moment,” Lizzie ordered.
    â€œ Widowed wife, and married maid ,” Cat declaimed. “ Betrothed, betrayer, and betrayed .”
    Lizzie looked back at her book. “I’m starting to feel sorry for Eveline. I didn’t realize she was going to be betrayed. I can see the ‘widowed wife.’ But ‘married maid’?”
    â€œHer marriage wasn’t consummated,” Cat said promptly. “At least I think that’s the case but to be honest, I didn’t like Eveline. I started skipping pages after she was told to remain safely in a castle, but instead she went out