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"You don’t have to make small talk with ood at it"

They paused in the shade of the portico, beside a sweet-scented bower of roses Casually Lord St Vincent leaned a shoulder against a cream-painted column A lazy smile curved his lips as he looked down at her "Didn’t Lady Berwick teach you?"

"She tried But I hate trying to make conversation about weather Who cares what the tes likelike"

"Yes?" he proe Workhouses, e’re alive, if you believe in séances or spirits, if etable you hatethe familiar frozen expression of a man as about to run for his life Instead she found herself caught by his arrested stare, while the silence seemed to wrap around them

After a moment, Lord St Vincent said softly, "Carrots"

Beetable you hate most? Do you mean cooked ones?"

"Any kind of carrots"

"Out of all vegetables?" At his nod, she persisted, "What about carrot cake?"

"No"

"But it’s cake"

A smile flickered across his lips "Still carrots"

Pandora wanted to argue the superiority of carrots over soetable, such as Brussels sprouts, but their conversation was interrupted by a silky masculine voice

"Ah, here you are I’ve been sent out to fetch you"

Pandora shrank back as she saw a tall raceful stride She knew instantly that he must be Lord St Vincent’s father--the resehtly tih-lines at the outer corners of his blue eyes He had a full head of tawny-golden hair, handso heard of his reputation as a for roué with coarse features and a leernot this rather gorgeous speciant suit of clothes

"My son, what can you be thinking, keeping this enchanting creature out in the heat of midday? And why is she disheveled? Has there been an accident?"