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Monday Puzzler
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Monday Puzzler: Dec. 9, 2019
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I think hero’s name is in para 6
Don't know it but I'm definitely interested. :-)
Caramel, chocolate, and all things warm and cuddly!
I've read this one and completely forgot how much I enjoyed it. Mind you, I love everything Lisa Kleypas writes.
I love her as an author never read this one.
After Heroine had left the lower terrace, Lady N had been defensive and sheepish, telling him that men were fortunate not to require chaperones everywhere they went, because at times it could be maddening. And Hero had agreed gravely that it must indeed be quite inconvenient, but at the same time Heroine struck him as tolerable company.
“Oh, most of the time Heroine is a dear,” Lady N said. “She can be rather bourgeois, but that is only to be expected. She comes from the poor side of the family, and she’s one of four unmarried sisters, no brothers at all. And her mother is deceased. I don’t mean to sound self-congratulatory, but had I not told Father I wanted Heroine as my companion, she would have suffered years of drudgery looking after her sisters. And since she never spends a shilling on herself-she sends her allowance to her father-I give her my castoffs to wear, and I share nearly everything that’s mine.”
“That is very generous of you.”
“No, not at all,” she said airily. “I like to see her happy. Perhaps I was a bit harsh on her a few moments ago, but she was being unreasonable.”
“I’m afraid I have to disagree,” Rafe told her. “Heroine is a good judge of character.”
Lady N smiled quizzically. “Are you saying that she was correct in her assessment of you?” She drew closer, her lips soft and inviting. “That you’re going to make the most of our privacy?”
“I hate to be predictable,” he told her regretfully, amused by her frowning pout. “Therefore...no. We should probably take you upstairs before we cause gossip.”
“I have not fear of gossip.” she said, laying her hand on his arm.
“Then you clearly haven’t yet done anything worthy of being gossiped about.”
“Perhaps it’s only that I haven’t been caught.” Lady N said demurely, making him laugh.
It was easy to like Lady N, who was clever and pretty. And it would be no hardship to bed her. Marrying her would hardly be a difficult price to pay, to get the business deal her wanted with his father. Oh, she was a bit spoiled and pettish, to be sure, but no more than most young women of her position. Moreover, her beauty and connections and breeding would make her a wife whom other men would envy him for.
As he walked with her toward the main entrance hall, they passed by the open door of the library, where he had conversed recently with his father. A very different scene greeted his gaze now.
Warm light from the hearth pushed flickering shadows to the corners, spreading a quiet glow through the room. Heroine sat in a large chair, reading aloud, surrounded by a group of avidly listening children.
An elderly man had nodded off by the hearth, his chin resting on the ample berth of his chest. He snuffled now and then as a mischievous boy reached up to tickle his chin with a feather. But the boy soon left off, drawn into the story of Ebenezer Scrooge and his visitation by a Christmas spirit.
Hero had not yet read the wildly popular book, but he recognized the story after hearing a few lines. A Christmas Carol had been so quoted and discussed that its ever-growing fame had become rather off-putting to Hero. He had dismissed it as a bit of sentimental candy floss, not worthy of wasting his time with.
But as he watched Heroine, her face soft and animated, and heard the lively inflections of her voice, he couldn’t help being drawn in.
Accompanied by the Spirit of Christmas Past, Scrooge was viewing himself as he had been as a schoolboy, lonely and isolated during the holidays until his younger sister had come to collect him.
Becoming aware of their presence in the doorway, Heroine glanced up briefly. She flashed a quick smile at Lady N. But her expression was more guarded as she looked at Hero. Returning her attention to the book, she continued to read.
Hero was aware of that same warm, curious pull he felt every time he was near Heroine. She looked adorably rumpled, sitting in the large chair with one slippered foot drawn up beneath her. He wanted to play with her, kiss her, pull that shiny hair down and comb his fingers through it.
“Let’s leave,” Lady N whispered beside him.
Hero felt a mild sting of annoyance. Lady N wanted to go somewhere else and continue their earlier conversation and flirt, and perhaps have a taste of the adult pleasures that were so new to her, and so damnably familiar to him.
“Let’s listen for a moment,” he murmured, guiding her into the room.
Lady N was too clever to show her impatience, “Of course,” she returned, and went to arrange herself gracefully in the unoccupied chair by the hearth. Hero stood at the mantel, leaned a shoulder against it, and glued his gaze to Heroine as the story continued.
Scrooge witnessed more from his past, including the merry Fezziwig ball. A mournful scene followed, in which he was confronted by a young woman who had loved him but was now accepting that his desire for riches had surpassed all else.
Hero disliked sentiment. He had seen and experienced enough of the world to resist the pull of maudlin stories. But as he stood listening to Heroine, he felt unaccountable heat spreading through him, and it had nothing to do with the cracking fire in the hearth. Heroine read the Christmas story with an innocent conviction and pleasure that was too genuine for him to resist. He wanted to be alone with her and listen to her low, charming voice for hours. He wanted to lay his head in her lap until he could feel the curve of her thigh against his cheek.