Portrait Of A Lover Read Free Page A

had gone out.
    Perhaps he thought she did not wish to be speaking to him because she was the sister of an earl, and he was a bank clerk. She wanted more than anything to assure him that was not the case.
    “I am hardly that,” she explained. “My parents were simple country people.”
    “It matters little what your parents were. I can see you are a charming, intelligent woman all on your own.”
    Annabelle’s cheeks felt hot all of a sudden.
    “I’ve embarrassed you,” he said, with an almost melancholy tone. “Please forgive me. My only excuse is that I couldn’t help myself. I was lost in thought, in awe of your friendly, open manner.”
    She raised an arched brow. “Who’s being charming now?”
    He stared at her for a few more seconds before he quietly laughed. Annabelle laughed, too.
    A moment later she leaned back and eyed him lightheartedly. “So tell me, sir, what do you do when you’re not banking? I see you like to read.”
    For a brief moment he looked as if he weren’t sure he should continue conversing with her in this manner, then he seemed to let go of his reservations and laid his hand on top of the closed book. “Yes, reading is an enjoyable pastime, but what I really like to do is fish.”
    “Fish?”
    He nodded. “Nothing can compare to the experience of rowing a boat across a calm lake at dawn, when the air is crisp and your nose is chilled, and steam is rising from the water. Then you cast your line and hear the sound of it slicing through the air, and the hook hits the water with a quiet splash. Everything is so peaceful in the morning, and the sky has a certain glow.”
    Annabelle imagined what he had described. She could see herself sitting in his boat. It was a lovely thought.
    “You make it sound wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never been fishing before.”
    “No?” His eyes were warm and his smile calm, almost soothing. “Perhaps one day someone will take you.”
    Annabelle recognized the romance in his voice. He was telling her in no uncertain terms that he wished he could be the one to take her.
    Desire burned through her body as she imagined seeing this man again in such a private setting, being alone with him in a rowboat, sharing such a moment.
    Heavens, no one had ever flirted with her like this before. None of the young men she had danced with at balls or spoken to at assemblies had been anything like this man, who seemed mature and capable and so much more sure of himself compared to them. Even his physical presence was more manly. He was tall and broad through the chest and shoulders. His legs looked more muscular, and his hands…Well, she’d already noticed how attractive and strong they were.
    But there was something else about him, too, something that stirred her blood and excited her in a way she’d never experienced before. It was the way he looked at her—as if he found her the most beautiful creature in the world.
    “I would like that very much,” she replied breathlessly.
    His eyes traveled from her face down the front of her bodice to her knees, then back up again before he slowly leaned forward. “Please allow me this impropriety,” he whispered, glancing briefly at Aunt Millicent, who was still snoring. “But may I ask your name?”
    Annabelle experienced a surge of both apprehension and excitement. The whole tone of their exchange was highly improper and very wicked. She would never be speaking to him this way if Aunt Millicent were awake, or if the elderly lady beside him could hear what they were saying. Thankfully, she had barely looked up from her correspondence.
    Annabelle shifted nervously in her seat, then whispered in return, “It’s Annabelle. Annabelle Lawson.”
    He continued to stare at her face, almost entranced, as if he didn’t know what to make of her or what to say next.
    “And what is your name, sir, if I may be so bold?” The fact that she had also whispered the question gave the whole conversation an air of secrecy and