Let Me Be The One Read Online Free Page A

throat." She noticed he was not at all disturbed by this observation. Reluctantly, she raised her arms and slid them in place. Over his shoulder Elizabeth saw the baroness turn away from her circle of friends, obviously prompted to do so, and wave gaily to her, a happy smile brightening her face. The baron, deep in discussion with a clutch of politics-minded men, also turned and gave her a similarly warm acknowledgment. On the blanket where Northam's three friends still staked their territory, they exchanged friendly chucks to the upper arm in some sort of ritual of manly approbation that Elizabeth only vaguely understood.
    "Your friends appear to approve of your behavior," she said. "Else they are preparing to brawl."
    He laughed then, unrestrained, rumbling, deep and clear. He had to stop in midstride to steady himself and Elizabeth. She felt the vibration of his chest tickle her fingertips where she clutched him. Northam caught his breath and moved on, shaking his head, still smiling to himself as if he could see precisely the behavior that elicited her comment. "They cannot help themselves," he said. "I do not offer that as an excuse, merely as the truth of the situation."
    "I certainly could find no fault with the marquess last evening. He was without exception considerate. I am sure he did not engage a single guest in fisticuffs."
    "East was there alone."
    East? she wondered. Marquess of Eastlyn, of course. Elizabeth rather liked the notion that these four friends clung to childhood familiarities. "Hardly alone. The baron's table was a squeeze."
    Northam set her down on an outcropping of rock. He removed a handkerchief from inside his frock coat and placed it on the stone. "Please," he said. "Allow me to help you sit. The sun has warmed this spot nicely." He aided Elizabeth's balance and eased her onto the square of linen, then dropped easily beside her. Neither the close fit of his frock coat, nor the objections he anticipated from his valet that evening, stopped Northam from removing it. He glanced at Elizabeth as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "You don't mind?"
    His lack of regard for convention startled her. In spite of the warmth of the afternoon, no other man had gone so far as to remove his frock coat. Many of them, she suspected, could not have removed it without the help of a valet. Instead of looking untidy, Northam managed an air of informal elegance, and Elizabeth suspected that if she were to turn her head and survey the guests, the female half would be looking in his direction with some admiration, while the males in their midst would be straining to relieve themselves of their own outer wear. It came to her then that this man had little regard for convention because he helped set the standard.
    "You would put your jacket back on if I minded?" she asked.
    "No, not at all," he said. "But I wondered if you did."
    She laughed. "You say the most unexpected things."
    His own smile was brief. "Do I? I assure you, I am quite serious."
    "And I believe you. There can be no good reason for men to swelter in their frock coats while the ladies enjoy a modicum of comfort in muslin and the shade of parasols. I confess, however, I had not given the matter any thought before now. It did not occur to me that you were in any way uncomfortable."
    "Deuced uncomfortable. But it is our lot to suffer in silence. I am told it impresses the ladies." He glanced sideways to measure the effect of his words. Elizabeth appeared vastly unimpressed, which Northam approved of immensely.
    What Elizabeth found to her liking was his plainspeaking. "I am not wearing a bonnet," she said in the manner of a confession.
    "I noticed." His gaze passed briefly over her hair. She was not strictly a brunette. Streaks of gold lent her hair a permanently sun-kissed coloring. It was one of the first things he noticed about her. Those strands of glinting, curling gold were what caught his eye each time she peeked out from behind her easel. "Would