The Chocolate Debutante Read Free

have female friends of like interests.”
     
    “Ah, bluestockings.”
     
    “That is how the sneer describes us, yes. I go to the opera and plays and concerts. I have a comfortable and happy life.”
     
    “Except when trapped in posting houses in snowstorms.”
     
    “Such a thing has not happened before. But it is hardly a desert island or even a blasted heath. It is a well-run posting house. Hardly an adventure.”
     
    The bloods at the other table had been drinking heavily. One of them suddenly vomited on the floor.
     
    “This is enough,” said the earl. “Miss Tremayne, we can
share
the private parlor, and to save your maidenly sensibilities, we will leave the door open. Come, I beg you. Things with that crowd will only get worse.”
     
    Harriet hesitated. Then she saw one rise and fetch a pot from the sideboard. If she stayed much longer, she might have to witness worse than vomiting.
     
    “Thank you,” she said, rising hurriedly.
     
    “Go directly there, and I will instruct the landlord to bring our food upstairs.”
     
    Harriet fled.
     
    She hesitated outside her maid’s door—Lucy always had the luxury of her own bedchamber when traveling with her mistress. She should ask the maid to chaperon her, but Lord Dangerfield would surely not allow a maid to sit at the table with them, and Lucy was probably asleep by now. She went on her way to the private parlor.
     
    He joined her after a few moments. Now that she was alone with him in the little parlor, she was very conscious of his presence, of his masculinity. She reminded herself sternly that she was Miss Tremayne of independent means and not interested in gentlemen at all.
     
    The waiters and the landlord entered, bearing dishes. “I took the liberty of ordering some wine for us,” said the earl. “As I have taken your parlor away, I think it only fair that I should entertain you.”
     
    Harriet bowed her head. “You are most kind.” She knew it would be churlish to protest. Even on stagecoach journeys, the male passengers paid for any female passengers’ meals.
     
    They ate in silence for a while, and then he said, “I wonder how long we will be trapped here?”
     
    “Not long, I hope.” Harriet stood up and went to the window, drew back the curtain, and peered out. “The snow is worse.”
     
    “Then it looks as if we are going to get to know each other very well.” Harriet sat down again opposite him. The candle flames flickered and his eyes appeared to glitter. She felt uncomfortable and uneasy.
     
    “Perhaps not, my lord. I am fortunate enough to have some books with me, so I shall spend the time in my room, reading.”
     
    “Without eating?”
     
    “Of course not.”
     
    “Then we shall see each other at meals. Unless you plan to return to the dining room?”
     
    Harriet repressed a shudder. “Not I. Can you imagine what it must be like to be married to one of those brutes?”
     
    “Not being a female, that sad thought never crossed my mind. And you, being an independent bluestocking, need not concern yourself with such thoughts either… unless, of course, you constantly look for things to justify your spinsterhood.”
     
    “That is cruel and untrue. I am happy and content with my life.”
     
    “With a mouth like that?”
     
    “My speech offends you?”
     
    “No, my sweeting. I merely remark that you have a passionate mouth.”
     
    “My lord, as we have been thrown into each other’s company, may I beg you to refrain from making impolite personal comments.”
     
    “As you will. Some might regard it as a compliment.”
     
    “How far are you traveling, my lord?”
     
    “To Oxford. I am to pay a visit to my old tutor.”
     
    “Did you attend the university, or is this gentleman a tutor of your youth who went with you on the Grand Tour?”
     
    “I attended the university.”
     
    “And did you receive a degree?”
     
    “Of course.”
     
    “Why of course?”
     
    “I went out riding as usual