The Guise of a Gentleman by Donna Hatch Page A

in years, so what did she think she knew about them, or him in particular? Keenly aware of his presence, her eyes repeatedly moved to him, but she fought to direct them away. If only he weren’t so uncommonly handsome!
    He turned to her and leaned in close enough to send her heart flipping. The knots in her stomach made it difficult to eat. She glanced at him, wondering if he knew his effect upon her. Probably. The blackguard.
    With perfect propriety, he murmured, “Are you enjoying your dinner, Mrs. Berkley?” His hand toyed with his glass, reminding her of his gentle touch despite his scars and calluses.
    She swallowed. “Of course.” She did not dare mention in front of other guests that he sat too close.
    “Tell me, Mrs. Berkley,” Lord Druesdale said, “have you any interest in Egyptian artifacts?”
    Desperate to prove to Mr. Amesbury that he had no effect upon her, she gratefully turned from Mr. Amesbury to Lord Druesdale. “I, ah, no. That is, I have not become familiar with the subject. I read a great deal, but that is not a subject I have studied.” She cringed, fully aware at how badly she was failing at her attempt to appear calm.
    “Pity,” replied Lord Druesdale. “It’s fascinating. I was a member of Napoleon’s excursions into Egypt and was present during some impressive and historic finds.”
    “Yes, I had heard,” Mr. Amesbury rumbled. “While some of us were fighting a war, you consorted with the enemy.” There could be no mistaking his accusing tone.
    Druesdale stiffened. “I was present as a scholar, not as a supporter.”
    The tension between the two men crackled. Elise felt as if she’d been caught in the crossfire of a duel.
    “Your presence alone could be considered support,” Mr. Amesbury shot back.
    “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
    They stared at each other hard until she feared they’d actually come to blows.
    Then Mr. Amesbury glanced at her. “Forgive us, Madam. You mentioned you enjoy reading. What do you like to read?”
    She scrambled to formulate a reply. “Oh, many things. I especially enjoy novels by Ann Radcliff and Sir Walter Scott. I recently read one called Frankenstein—”
    “Novels? You surprise me,” broke in Lord Druesdale. “I thought you the type who reads ladies’ magazines, looking at the latest fashion plates and needlepoint patterns.”
    “I enjoy a wide variety of subjects.”
    “Poetry?” asked Mr. Amesbury.
    “Not so much” Elsie said. “I think Byron is one of the better poets, but he can be a bit dark for my taste.”
    “Ah, you prefer the romantics such as Wordsworth and Coleridge,” said Druesdale.
    Elise found her attention so neatly divided between the gentlemen on either side that she hardly knew where to look.
    “If you must know, I read the newspaper more than anything else.” She glanced at Druesdale, who looked faintly scandalized. Through the corner of her eye, she observed Mr. Amesbury. One side of his mouth twitched in amusement. In his eyes shone approval.
    Elise blinked. Approval? Most men, Edward included, disapproved of ladies reading the newspapers, viewing them as too sordid for a lady’s delicate nature.
    Recklessly, she added, “In particular, I applaud the prison reforms and have made a number of contributions toward charities who seek change. I also support the idea of an educational system for the poor to give them the opportunity to improve themselves. Although I doubt we’ll see such a program during our lifetime.”
    She looked at them in turn with a challenging lift to her chin.
    Lord Druesdale stared with raised brows.
    Mr. Amesbury grinned. “What an independent and forward thinker you are, Mrs. Berkley. You would like my sisters.”
    She searched for mockery or condemnation but found none. Astonishing.
    After dessert had been served, the guests raised their glasses in toasts to the upcoming wedding between Lady Standwich and Mr. Harrison. Elise offered a toast she hoped sounded