“Oh yes,” she said. “I thought I had read them all. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to know there is one more.”
“I must confess, I’m having a difficult time getting through it,” Olivia said.
“Really?” Sebastian asked.
Olivia’s lips curved into an indulgent smile. “Sebastian is also a huge fan,” she said to the other young ladies.
“Of Mrs. Gorely?” Louisa asked. “She has the most fascinating plots.”
“If you don’t mind the occasionally implausible,” Olivia put in.
“But that’s what makes them so much fun,” Louisa said.
“Why are you having difficulty withMiss Truesdale ?” Sebastian asked Olivia. He knew he shouldn’t press, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d been trying to get her to like his books ever since she’d said that he’d used the wordpurview incorrectly.
Not that she knew that it was he.
And furthermore,purview was a ridiculous word. He was planning to ban it from his vocabulary.
Olivia gave one of her uncommonly pretty shrugs. “It’s very slow,” she said. “There seems to be an uncommon degree of description.”
Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s Mrs. Gorely’s best myself.” He’d never been fully satisfied with the final version, although he certainly didn’t think it merited Olivia’s criticism.
Difficult to get through. Bah.
Olivia wouldn’t know a good book if it hit her on the head.
Chapter Eight
It took less than one second for Annabel to realize that Louisa had not been joking about Lady Olivia Valentine and the stunning beauty thereof. When she turned and smiled, Annabel actually had to blink at the brilliance of it. The young matron was breathtakingly gorgeous, all blond and milk-skinned, with high cheekbones and amazingly blue eyes.
It was all Annabel could do not to hate her on principle.
And then, as if the meeting could not get worse (and really, just the simple fact that she and Mr. Grey were meeting was bad enough), he had to go and kiss her hand.
Disaster.
Annabel had been utterly flustered, stammering something that might have passed for a greeting in a preverbal society. She did lift her eyes for a moment, because even she knew that one couldn’t spend an entire introduction staring at the ground. But it was a mistake. A huge mistake. Mr. Grey, who had been quite good-looking in the moonlight, was even more heartstoppingly handsome by the light of day.
Good heavens, he ought not to be allowed to promenade with Lady Olivia. The two of them were likely to blind the good people of London with their combined beauty.
Either that or send the rest of humanity sobbing to their beds, because really, who could compete with that?
Annabel tried to follow the conversation, but she was far too distracted by her own panic. And by Mr. Grey’s right hand, which was resting lightly against his leg. And by the sly curve of his mouth, which she was trying very hard not to look at, but somehow there it was, right in her peripheral vision. Not to
mention the sound of his voice, when he said something about…well… something.
Books. They were talking about books.
Annabel held silent. She had not read the books in question, and besides, she thought it best to insert herself in the conversation as little as possible. Mr. Grey was still stealing the occasional glance in her direction and it seemed foolish to give him a reason to do so openly.
Of course that was when he turned right at her with those devilish gray eyes and asked, “And what of you, Miss Winslow? Have you read any of the Gorely books?”
“I am afraid not.”
“Oh, you must, Annabel,” Louisa said excitedly. “You will adore them. We shall go to the bookshop today. I would lend you mine, but they are all back at Fenniwick.”
“Do you possess the entire set, Lady Louisa?” Mr. Grey asked.
“Oh, yes. Except forMiss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman , of course. But that shall be rectified immediately.” She turned back to Annabel. “What have we on the calendar for this evening? I do hope it is something we may skip. I want nothing more than a cup of tea and my new book.”
“I believe we are to attend the opera,” Annabel replied. Louisa’s family had one of the finest boxes in the theater, and Annabel had been looking forward to attending a performance for weeks.
“Really?” Louisa said, with an utter lack of enthusiasm.
“You’d rather stay home and read?” Mr. Grey asked.
“Oh, definitely. Wouldn’t you?”
Annabel regarded her cousin with something between surprise and disbelief. Louisa was normally so shy, and yet here she was, animatedly discussing novels with one of London’s most notorious bachelors.
“I suppose it depends on the opera,” Mr. Grey said thoughtfully. “And the book.”
“The Magic Flute,” Louisa informed him. “AndMiss Truesdale .”
“The Magic Flute?” Lady Olivia exclaimed. “I missed that last year. I shall have to make plans to attend.”
“I would takeMiss Truesdale overThe Marriage of Figaro ,” Mr. Grey said, “but perhaps notThe Magic Flute . There is something so cheering about hell boilething in one’s heart.”
“Heartwarming, even,” Annabel muttered.
“What did you say, Miss Winslow?” he asked.
Annabel swallowed. He was smiling benignly, but she could hear the pointy little jab in his voice, and frankly, it terrified her. She could not enter into a battle with this man and win. Of that she was certain.
“I have never seenThe Magic Flute ,” she announced.
“Never?” Lady Olivia said. “But how can that be?”
“Opera is rarely performed in Gloucestershire, I’m afraid.”
“You must go see it,” Lady Olivia said. “You simply must.”
“I was planning to attend this evening,” Annabel said. “Lady Louisa’s family had invited me.”
“But you can’t go if she’s home reading a book,” Lady Olivia finished shrewdly. She turned to Louisa. “You will have to put off Miss Truesdale and her silent gentleman until tomorrow. You cannot allow Miss Winslow to miss the opera.”
“Why don’t you join us?” Louisa asked.
Annabel thought she might kill her.
“You said you missed it last year,” Louisa continued. “We have a large box. It is never full.”
Lady Olivia’s face lit with delight. “That is most kind of you. I should love to attend.”
“And of course you are invited as well, Mr. Grey,” Louisa said.
Annabel was definitely going to kill her. By the most painful means imaginable.
