Miranda was a dear friend, and although her curiosity promised to be extraordinarily helpful in unmasking the perpetrator ofThe Muckraker,it proved most annoying when it focused on her friends. “You would believe me if you had tried to sleep while someone snored like a bullfrog the entire night.”
Miranda’s brown eyes widened, and her lips tipped up. “Oh, youarekeeping something from us. Who was snoring?”
Amused, Honoria shook her head. “Nothing like that. My mother’s lady’s maid, Watson. The inn was full, and she and Susan stayed in my room.”
In a blink, Miranda’s smile turned into a pout. “Well, thatdoessound like you, allowing servants to share your room. For a moment, I became hopeful you had done something scandalous.”
Honoria snickered at the idea. “What? And giveThe Muckrakereven more ammunition.”
“Speaking of. Do you think the guilty party may be in attendance?”
“If they’re truly part of society, it’s possible—even likely. I suppose we’ll find out if anything that happens here is reported in the next issue.” She linked her arm with Miranda’s. “In the meantime, why don’t we go down before supper?”
Downstairs, one of the servants directed them to an enormous library where guests clustered in small groups, conversing quietly. Oneglance at Honoria, and Miranda rolled her eyes. “I shall join my parents and leave you to admire your first love.” Soft laughter echoed behind her.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling in the expansive room. Her heart picked up its pace, imagining the hours she could spend within its confines. Honoria had never seen anything so magnificent.
Until her gaze landed on Drake. Miranda’s innocent comment took on new meaning. Dressed in evening black with a silver waistcoat, he was—in one word—gorgeous. She’d never thought of a man as gorgeous before. Handsome, striking, imposing, yes. But those words, although fitting, didn’t do Drake justice. One would thinkhewas lord of the manor instead of Burwood.
“Do you like what you see, my lady?” Although soothing, the masculine voice shook her from her reverie, and she turned toward Burwood.
“It’s wonderful, Your Grace. Do you enjoy reading?”
He scrunched his face. “Not especially.” With a glass of amber liquid in his hand, he motioned toward the glorious books. “Perhaps I should donate all these to charity?”
Her heart nearly stopped. “You can’t!” When she caught the gleam in his eyes, her face grew impossibly hot. “You’re bamming me. Shame, Your Grace. Shame.”
He chortled, a pleasant sound. “True. About donating them, but not about reading. But I suppose if my bride should enjoy reading, I could busy myself outdoors fishing when she finds herself so preoccupied.”
“Would that be acceptable? Having a wife who liked to read, that is?”
“As long as that’s not all she likes.” He gave her a devilish wink.
Oh!My, he was a rascal. “You, sir, are incorrigible.”
“So I’ve been told.” He sipped his drink. “Merrick loves to read. I’m sure he’ll be holed up here often enough. As my man of business, he’ll be living here with me.”
She hadn’t thought of that.
He studied her. “Would that be acceptable? To my bride, I mean?”
“I suppose that’s a question you will have to pose to your intended when the time comes.”
“But I’m asking you now.”
Blink. Blink, blink, blink.What on earth did he mean? “For my opinion? As a woman in general?”
He grinned. “If that is how you wish to interpret it. But I want to know if you in particular would find it acceptable?”
Her mouth moved soundlessly, struggling to form an answer that neither condemned her nor embarrassed her further. She willed herself not to peek over her shoulder at Drake.
Frampton appeared at the entrance. “Ladies and gentlemen. Supper is served.”
She wilted with relief at the reprieve.
“Ah, from your expression, it’s clear Frampton’s interruption is most welcome. As a gentleman, I shall not press for an answer. Yet.” Burwood held out his arm. “Now, may I escort you in, my lady? You did promise to sit next to me.”
“If memory serves, you gave me little choice.”
