The Seduction of an Earl by Linda Rae Sande

because of her conversations with Elizabeth? Did he even know the topics of Elizabeth’s every-other-daily visits? Had he overheard the viscountess telling Hannah of her bedroom antics? Of how much she loved being married to George Bennett-Jones – because he was so attentive and because there was such joy in their marriage bed?
    Or had he simply decided his daughter shouldn’t know such things as how irrigation gates worked? It seemed to her he should be more concerned about Elizabeth’s titillating conversation.
    “Perhaps we can go for that ride now?” Henry spoke, his tone suggesting he was trying to lighten the mood in the room. He also needed something to concentrate on besides Hannah. Never in his life had the presence of a woman had him so addled. And never had he experienced such vivid thoughts of what he might do with one should he get her in his bed.
    The marquess brightened. “The phaeton should be in the drive by now,” he said as he stood up. Both Henry and Hannah stood as well. Harold, sensing the change in the dynamics in the room, was already standing. His brown eyes seemed to focus on each of the room’s occupants for only a moment before moving to the next, as if he was trying to size up the situation. Then he concentrated his attention on his mistress, as if he took cues from only her.
    “My bonnet is in the vestibule,” Hannah said with a nod, “But I must go to my room for some gloves and a shawl. Please excuse me. I’ll be but a moment,” she added as she moved to the parlor door. Both gentlemen bowed as she and the dog took their leave.
    As Hannah climbed the stairs to her room, she wondered at her last comment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have seemed so eager. Perhaps she should make the Earl of Gisborn wait a few minutes. Did she sound desperate when she said she would be ‘but a moment’? That she so wanted the earl to like her that she would hurry so as not to keep him waiting? And if he did find her biddable, did he plan to court her? A frisson shot through Hannah’s body at that thought, nearly causing her to gasp as she stepped over the threshold and into her bedchamber. Despite not being invited to do so, Harold followed on her footsteps.

    Hannah’s father regarded Henry for a moment. “You probably think she’s a feather-headed twit, don’t you?” the Marquess of Devonville suddenly stated, his apparent disappointment displayed quite clearly on his face and in how his shoulders slumped.
    Henry had to suppress the first thing that came to mind by way of a response. “Actually, I found her interest in the topic quite unique for her sex, and she seemed intelligent enough to follow my explanation. I see no reason to be critical of her,” he countered, hoping his annoyance at the marquess wasn’t too apparent in his response.
      “Indeed?” Devonville replied with a tilt of his head. He made a sort of humming sound in his throat as he considered Henry’s comment. “Then, if you should wish to, you may continue the topic on your ride in the park,” he said with a shrug. “But I must remind you, Gisborn. She is just a chit. Although she had a governess and attended a finishing school, don’t expect the topics of her conversation to be too challenging.”
    Henry bristled at hearing the marquess’ words as the two of them made their way to the vestibule. “I assure you, my lord. I don’t really have any expectations at this point.”
    “Expectations of what?” Hannah wondered as she finished pulling on a glove. A deep pink shawl was carelessly draped across her shoulders. From where she stood on the last step of the stairs leading to the second floor, she had been able to watch her father and Henry as they continued their conversation outside the parlor.
    Admiring her figure from where he stood, Henry considered how to respond. Should he make light of his last comment to the marquess? Or lay it all on the line and explain exactly why he was there? To do so would risk