Erin Knightley - Flirting With Fortune

Kindly? Charity couldn’t help her raised eyebrow. The man had come over without invitation or introduction, and Grandmama had actually allowed it?

Correctly interpreting Charity’s reaction, the older woman chuckled, clasping her hands over the black fabric of her skirts. “Yes, I realize we are not strictly adhering to the rules, but it is summer, is it not? Exceptions can be made, especially when the good baron overheard your playing and so wished to meet the musician.” Her gray eyes sparkled as she smiled at the man.

It was all Charity could do not to gape at the woman. Yes, no one was more proud of Charity’s playing than her grandmother, but this was beyond the pale. Good gracious, if Mama and Papa knew how much Grandmama’s formally strict nature had been changed by her extended illness, they never would have allowed Charity to accompany her to Bath without them.

The baron bowed, the movement crisp despite his slightly disheveled appearance. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Effington,” he said, his voice low and a little raspy like the low register of a flute.

Despite the perfectly proper greeting, something about him seemed a little untamed. Must be the scars, the origin of which she couldn’t help but wonder about. War wounds? A carriage accident? A duel? Setting aside her curiosity, she arranged her lips in a polite smile. “And you as well, Lord Cadgwith. Are you here for the festival?”

“Please don’t mumble, my dear,” Grandmama cut in, her whispered reprimand loud and clear. Charity cringed—the older woman insisted that her hearing was fine, and that any problem in understanding laid in the enunciation of those around her.

“Yes, ma’am,” she responded in elevated, carefully pronounced tones. “Lord Cadgwith, are you here for the festival?” Heat stole up her cheeks, despite her effort to keep the blush at bay. She had never liked standing out—when away from her pianoforte, of course—and practically shouting in the presence of their neighbor was beyond awkward. One would think she’d have come to terms with the easy blushes to which her pale, freckled skin lent itself—but knowing her cheeks were warming only made her blush that much more violently.

It certainly didn’t help that he was by far the most attractive man to ever stand in her drawing room, scars or no. She swallowed against the unexpected rush of butterflies that flitted through her.

For his part, Lord Cadgwith did not look amused. “No, actually. I had no knowledge of the event until my arrival.” He made the effort to speak in a way that Grandmama could hear, his dark, deep voice carrying easily through the room. A man used to being heard, she guessed. A military man, perhaps?

“Well, what a happy surprise it must have been when you arrived,” her grandmother said, smiling easily. “Charity is planning to audition for the Tuesday Evening Musicale series later this afternoon. There are a limited number of slots, but I have no doubt our Charity will earn a place.”

And . . . more blushing. Charity gritted her teeth as she smiled demurely at her grandmother. Music was the one thing for which Charity had no need for false modesty, but sharing her plans with the virtual stranger standing in their drawing room felt oddly invasive. “I’m sure Lord Cadgwith isn’t interested in my playing, Grandmama.”

“On the contrary,” he said, his voice rough but loud enough to carry. “It is, after all, your music that prompted me to visit in the first place.”

Her mouth fell open in a little “Oh” of surprise before she got her wits about her. Still, pleasure, warm and fizzy, poured through her. Her music had called this incredibly handsome man to her? Not her looks (such as they were), not her father’s station, not curiosity from the gossipmongers. No, he had sought her out because her playing touched him. Pride mingled with pleasure, bringing an irrepressible grin to her lips.

Grandmama beamed, her shrewd gaze flitting back and forth between them. “Well, I do hope you’ll stay for tea, my lord.”

His smile was oddly sharp. “Unfortunately, I must be off. I just wanted to introduce myself after being serenaded this morning. Lady Effington, thank you for your indulgence of my whim.”

Lady Effington nodded as regally as the queen, pleasure clear in the pink tinge of the normally papery white skin of her cheeks.

He turned to face Charity, his green eyes meeting hers levelly. “Miss Effington,” he said, lowering his voice to a much more intimate tone as he bent his head in acknowledgment, “do please have a care for your captive audience in the adjoining town houses, and keep the infernal racket to a minimum.”

Because she was lost in the vivid dark green of his eyes, it took a moment for his words to sink in. She blinked several times in quick succession, trying to make sense of his gentle tone and bitingly rude words. He couldn’t possibly have just said . . . “I beg your pardon?”

“Pardon granted. Good day, Miss Effington.”

And just like that, the baron turned on his heel and strode from the room. It was then that she caught the fleeting hint of spirits in his wake, faint but unmistakable. A few seconds later, the sound of the front door opening and closing reached her burning ears. Of all the insufferable, boorish, rude—

“My goodness, but he was a delightful young man.” Grandmama’s sweet voice broke through Charity’s fury, just before she was about to explode. The older woman looked so happy, so utterly pleased with the encounter, that Charity forced herself to bite her tongue. It wouldn’t do to upset her—after all, she was only just now recovering from her illness. The currish baron wasn’t worth the strife it would cause.

Forcing a brittle smile to her lips, she nodded. “Mmhmm. And you know what? I think I’ll go play an extra-enthusiastic composition just for him.”

With that, she marched from the room directly back to her pianoforte bench. The baron could have been pleasant. He could have kindly asked her to play more quietly or perhaps less frequently. But, no, he had chosen to go about it in the most uncivilized, humiliating way possible. It was his decision to throw down the gauntlet as though they were enemies instead of neighbors.

She plopped down on her bench with a complete lack of elegance and paused only long enough to lace her hands together and stretch out her muscles. Then she spread her fingers out over the keys and smiled.

This, Lord Cadgwith, means war.

A TASTE FOR SCANDAL

“Very sweet and heartening. . . . The characters are likable and well written, the plot is delightful and keeps your attention, and the ending declaration of love is sigh worthy.”

—Smexy Books Romance Reviews

“As satisfyingly sweet as one of the heroine’s cakes, Knightley’s delightful and charming romance is both tender and adorable.”

—RT Book Reviews

“With endearing characters, eloquent writing, and a spoonful of charm, you’ve got the perfect recipe for a perfect read!”

—Under the Covers

MORE THAN A STRANGER

“This sweet treat of a romance will entrance you with its delicious humor, dollop of suspense, and delectable characters. It’ll make your mouth water!”

—New York Times bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries

“More than a romance—it’s a witty and engaging love story that had me turning pages well into the night just so I could find out what would happen next. It’s a truly captivating tale of two headstrong friends who become much more to each other than they could have imagined.”

—Lydia Dare

“A distinct and unique voice. . . . Knightley achieves great sexual tension between the hero and heroine. . . . Fans of Julia Quinn, Lisa Kleypas, and Suzanne Enoch will enjoy this book.”

—Under the Covers

“A perfectly delightful story. The characters leap off the page. . . . Knightley has created a romance novel that is fun and interesting.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Charmingly sweet and tender.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Action-packed. . . . Readers will enjoy this passionate yet taut tale starring two charming protagonists.”

—Genre Go Round Reviews

“Knightley’s entertaining debut sparks the imagination.”

—RT Book Reviews