Em Brown © 2013  |  All Rights Reserved

Em Brown © 2013  |  All Rights Reserved

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Erotic Historicals

                           byEm Brown

Phineas bowed to his dinner companion and made his way towards the Countess.


“Lady Farrington,” he addressed.


She had begun to walk away from the crowd, perhaps attempting to steal away to some haven of solitude, and was obviously startled that someone had called to her. When she turned to face him, he saw that she was not as plain as when seen from afar. Her cheeks had a natural blush, and though her eyes were not the large sparkles of color that graced the physiognomy of her sister-in-law, they possessed more depth. Unlike the shallow waters of Sarah Farrington, the verdant eyes of the Countess intrigued him.


They stared at him in displeasure.


Undaunted, he introduced himself with a bow. “I am Sir Phineas Barclay, a relation of the Farringtons.”


“I am aware that you are a distant relation,” she replied coolly.


He had the feeling that even though she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, she was attempting to look down at him. Perhaps she shared the sentiments of her husband towards the Barclays.


“A much belated congratulations on your nuptials.”


Her frown deepened. He would have not have been surprised to hear her tell him that congratulations were unnecessary from him as he had not been invited to the wedding.


“Yes,” she said, mustering more hauteur into her expression, “I was told you had been banished to France.”


Her dislike of him, which was becoming increasingly palpable, amused him, as did most of the disdain people would have towards him. The son of parents who shocked gentle society with their wanton spirit and numerous illicit affairs, he had become immune at a tender age to what others thought.


“You put it harshly, madam. I like to think of my time there as a holiday,” he replied. “I had occasion to travel to the Côte-d'Or and would highly recommend the region. The wines there are par excellence.”


He could tell his impudence riled her.


“Ah, then you will be taking yourself back there?”


He nearly chuckled at her juvenile attempt to rid herself of his company. “I shall be staying in England for some time. I have come across a pursuit of great interest to me.”


“Yes, I know,” she said wryly.


“You do?”


She faltered, “I mean…naturally you will have missed much of what England has to offer, perhaps not the same quality of wine that you would find in France, but perhaps a rousing game of cricket or warm Yorkshire pudding on a cool winter morning, and certainly friends and family, from whom I will keep you no longer.”


She turned to leave. He refrained from specifying that she was now family.


“Before you leave, Lady Farrington,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “I believe this to be yours.”


He held out the earring. Her eyes widened upon seeing it. She hesitated, as if she contemplated denying ownership, but it was obvious that her one ear was missing its adornment. When she reached for the earring, he deftly reached for her with his free hand, pulling her closer. Though the nearest guest was not within earshot, he meant his words for her ears alone.


“Next time, feel free to join us, Countess,” he murmured as he pressed the earring into her hand.


She burned brightly to the tips of her ears. Grasping the earring, she turned on her heel and hurried away from him.

Conquering the Countess