Rules of Engagement Read Online Free

dropped his monocle and seated himself. "Perhaps you'll do," he said.
    She nodded and without waiting for an invitation, seated herself in the old-fashioned Hepplewhite chair before his desk. The style fit her. "I was going to say the same for you."
    He scarcely refrained from laughing out loud. She reminded him of his grandfather, a gentleman who had been unwilling, by God, to take insolence from one so undeserving as a mere thirty-year-old grandson.
    His amusement evaporated. Because of his grandfather he was doing this. Because of his grandfather and the bank and the family name, which must not suffer for his cousin's weakness and… and which did not deserve to be made a laughingstock. His fists clenched at the thought of that laughter. "You have brought references."
    "Of course." Plunging her hand into the capacious carpetbag, she brought forth three closely written sheets and handed them across the organized piles of paper on his desktop. "I have nine years' experience with children, and as you see, I've worked for quite exemplary families in various counties around London. Lady Byers, especially, was pleased with the results of my instruction. Her daughter was quite wild when I came into the household, and when I left she was desolated."
    He looked the letters over cursorily. They were from good, solid country families, mostly in the southern counties. All claimed that Miss Lockhart taught children with extraordinary skill. He didn't care. He only cared that she fulfilled his requirements. "I assume Miss Setterington has conveyed my needs."
    "Yes." Miss Lockhart placed the carpetbag at her feet. "I am to buy you an orphan and train it as your companion."
    Ha. Put like that, it didn't sound so dreadful.
    "So you may win some"—she looked around his lavishly appointed library—"wager, or some such, which will bring you yet more lucre."
    That sounded dreadful. Fiercely resentful of the implied rebuke, he rose to his feet.
    But she held up her hand. "Save your facile indignation, my lord. Unlike other women of my acquaintance, I understand that handsome young aristocrats, as well as hoary old merchants, can develop a taste for the acquisition of possessions. Indeed, I would call such an attribute part of the honored English way of life." She smiled in a kind of pale imitation of humor. "Even ladies desire their share of the fortunes. For that same reason, indeed, am I here."
    Still he stood and stared at this annoying woman. That damned Miss Setterington had managed, in her disapproval, to make his mission sound more palpable than this old maid in her approbation.
    "I can assure you, I will shield the child from any hurt," Miss Lockhart said.
    "The child?" Why was she babbling about the child?
    "Yes. I assumed your momentary hesitation had to do with worry for the orphan. In fact, you look rather dyspeptic over the fate of the little dear." Miss Lockhart bunked at him from behind her tinted glasses.
    Blinked at him, or winked at him?
    Her actions recalled him to his purpose. Lifting the candelabra from his desk, he strolled around the desk and shed its light full in her face.
    She looked down, her thin nostrils pinched in disdain— or perhaps in dismay. For Miss Lockhart was not as old as he'd first assumed—not that he could depend on age to protect him from unwelcome advances. His initial impression of Miss Lockhart's governess-sternness faded, leaving him to think her merely an unattractive female, firmly on the shelf and, perhaps, desperate to jump off and into any available masculine arms.
    More specifically, into his arms.
    A simple test would prove him wrong… or reluctantly right. Coldly he moved to secure his own peace of mind. Looming over her, he displayed the kind of virile confidence women seemed to find utterly appealing, and waited for her to look up.
    At last she did, but if she was impressed, she gave no outward indication. "Could I prevail upon you to put the candelabra down, my lord? It is very bright and