Rules of Engagement Read Online Free Page A

I fear you will drip wax on my second-best gown."
    "Your second-best gown? It is so attractive," he lied glibly, "I thought it your best gown."
    She viewed him as if he were a candidate for Bedlam and moved her skirt from beneath the flickering candles. "I wear my best gown on Sundays, my lord. When I, like all Christian woman, go to church."
    A reprimand, one aimed at his dissipated conduct. "Then it is simply the lady wearing it who creates the illusion of unparalleled beauty."
    Ignoring his graceful figure, she reached into the carpetbag at her feet and brought forth a ball of yarn and the start of a black woolen knitted… thing. "How excessively likely."
    Hm. She didn't sound particularly sarcastic, nor did she seem struck by his charms. Was she pretending disinterest, or was she truly the dried-up old prune he required? Placing the candelabra off to the side, he perched one hip on the desk and leaned toward her. "As I expressed to Miss Setterington, I feel the child will be better off serving me than being left in a home for foundlings. It was the thought of my deceit which caused a twinge of conscience."
    Her cheeks sucked in as she pursed her mouth. "I see."
    He smiled with winsome, if feigned, interest. "Yet I find myself wondering how conscience-ridden you are, Miss Lockhart. An attractive woman, in the prime of life, must not always wish to care for the children of others. Surely you must wish for your own."
    She snapped at him. There was no other word for her unrestrained impatience. "What I wish for is no concern of yours, my lord. Your only interest should be in my character and my efficiency. Now." Reaching behind her head, she plucked the long sticks from within her coiffure, threaded them through the knitted thing and proceeded, before his astonished eyes, to knit. "Miss Setterington told me of your generous offer of salary. Yet you'll excuse me if I not only confirm the amount, but discuss my living arrangements."
    Words failed him for a few precious moments. Miss Lockhart was an eccentric, then, the kind of absurd spinster that England produced in abundance.
    The needles clicked without pause. "Bed and board, of course, Lord Kerrich, and in a decent room, well ventilated." She looked around, appraising his study. "This is a pleasant room, with many beautiful decorations and, more important, I can't feel a draft. This chamber is larger than it needs to be, but I imagine, like me, you detest a close room. A close room promotes ill health, and a woman on her own cannot be too careful of her health. Also, I'll have a fireplace that doesn't smoke. I'll have a half-day off every fortnight, no exceptions. I expect to be allowed to go to worship every Sunday, and to take the child, too. I believe a righteous heart is necessary for a successful upbringing, and—"
    He interrupted out of sheer necessity and to complete his test. "My dear Miss Lockhart. Dear, dear Miss Lockhart." He laid his hand over one of hers, stilling her incessant knitting. "You must know you needn't worry about the placement of your bedchamber. I will… personally… approve your room not far from my own."
    She looked at his hand in cool disfavor, then up at him. Behind the tinted lenses, her heavily lashed eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"
    "These details are of no consequence. You shall have whatever you wish, and I look forward to working… closely… with you on the teaching of the orphan." He blinked his own not-inconsiderable lashes at her.
    With deadly accuracy, she used the knitting needle to rap his hand hard enough for him to snatch it back and rub the bruise. She then raised the needle and skewered the knot at the base of her neck. Thrusting the unfinished knitting back into her bag, she said with awful severity, "Young man, although I cannot believe my ears, I do understand you. It is the curse of my pulchritude to be besieged by male attentions, but I refuse to unquestioningly accept my fate. Much as I would enjoy your generous