Page 15 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

It was unfair that his smile should be so distracting, Jean thought. He turned it on her like a secret weapon. And it very nearly worked. “I meant that such provocation is not a way to reach agreement.”

“Agreement on what?”

Why did the word fluster her when he said it? She’d had a point, hadn’t she? “Surely there are things we can agree on?” she managed.

“You think so?” He smiled again, as if he found her amusing.

Jean’s temper flared; she refused to be laughed at. “Geoffrey needs a sensible routine. No one could argue with that.”

“Do you always speak in absolutes?” He met her eyes as if trying to see what lay behind them. “But I won’t dispute this one. He does.”

“And you must pay more attention to him.”

“Again amust. I might quibble over the phrasing, but I will allow it.”

Weary of his superior tone, Jean said, “Now you.”

“I? What?”

“You suggest something we can agree on.”

“Why should I? This is your game. You’re the cause of this whole uproar.”

“I’m not sorry!” She might be beset by doubts over methods, but the central fact remained. “Geoffrey deserves better than what he has received up to now.”

Briefly, the earl was silent, his handsome face unreadable. He didn’t appear angry, but certainly not contrite either. “I believe we can agree that the weather in March is a chancy thing,” he said.

“That isn’t fair.”

“How so?”

“It’s too true.”

“Can a thing betootrue?”

“Stop repeating words back to me like some sort of…parrot. You know what I mean.”

“Very well.” He hesitated, then reached over with one finger and flipped a curl that had, typically, sprung free of her hairpins. “Perhaps we can agree that your hair is marvelously…active.”

Startled, Jean didn’t move. His gesture had felt like a caress, though he hadn’t touched her. She’d never heard his voice gently playful till now, or seen his eyes dance. “It is excessively curly,” she replied, breathless at this glimpse of a different person.

“Would you say excessive? That seems harsh. Of course, I haven’t seen your tresses set free in all their glory.”

He smiled at her, warmly this time. Jean’s pulse accelerated. Was he imagining her hair wild and loose? Would he bury his hands in it? And what then?

The nursery door banged open, hitting the wall so hard it bounced back. Geoffrey burst into the room like a miniature whirlwind. “Bradford says I can’t ride a horse.” The boy skidded to a halt in front of Benjamin and stared resentfully up at him. “You’ll say I can’t go now.”

Tom hurried in, looking like a foxhound whose quarry had slipped by him through trickery.

Benjamin set aside his resentment at the interruption. “Can you ride, Tom?”

“Yes, my lord. Pretty well. I learned when I worked for the blacksmith and had to get accustomed to the horses.”

Benjamin turned back to his scowling son. “You’ll ride with Tom. The two of you won’t be a great burden.”

“I want to ridemyself,” Geoffrey declared, his little fists clenched.

“Well, you can’t. You’re too small to control a mount. You’d fall and hurt yourself.”

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