"You wish to remove your coat, Miss Armstrong? To make yourself at home?"
She didn't especially, and her scalp prickled that he gestured for her to go before him. Still, she had dressed with care, in what by no stretch of the imagination could be thought otherwise than the plainest gown, stockings, and sensible shoes. Unless of course his imagination was that of a blind man or a dotard. Why stir his suspicions with a silken spoon though when he knew she hadn't wanted to come?
Only now-well now, looking at the cold cuts on the dresser, the champagne chilling in the ice bucket, she blushed to remove the coat for the wrong reasons, didn't she?
Her practiced eye knew the threadbare aspect of this once fine country seat. This? This wasn't it. Everything here was of the best. She could only attribu……
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