Ten Things I Love About You by Julia Quinn

trying very hard not to look at, but somehow there it was, right in her peripheral vision. Not to mention the sound of his voice, when he said something about … well … something.
    Books. They were talking about books.
    Annabel held silent. She had not read the books in question, and besides, she thought it best to insert herself in the conversation as little as possible. Mr. Grey was still stealing the occasional glance in her direction and it seemed foolish to give him a reason to do so openly.
    Of course that was when he turned right at her with those devilish gray eyes and asked, “And what of you, Miss Winslow? Have you read any of the Gorely books?”
    “I am afraid not.”
    “Oh, you must, Annabel,” Louisa said excitedly. “You will adore them. We shall go to the bookshop today. I would lend you mine, but they are all back at Fenniwick.”
    “Do you possess the entire set, Lady Louisa?” Mr. Grey asked.
    “Oh, yes. Except for
Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman,
of course. But that shall be rectified immediately.” She turned back to Annabel. “What have we on the calendar for this evening? I do hope it is something we may skip. I want nothing more than a cup of tea and my new book.”
    “I believe we are to attend the opera,” Annabel replied. Louisa’s family had one of the finest boxes in the theater, and Annabel had been looking forward to attending a performance for weeks.
    “Really?” Louisa said, with an utter lack of enthusiasm.
    “You’d rather stay home and read?” Mr. Grey asked.
    “Oh, definitely. Wouldn’t you?”
    Annabel regarded her cousin with something between surprise and disbelief. Louisa was normally so shy, and yet here she was, animatedly discussing novels with one of London’s most notorious bachelors.
    “I suppose it depends on the opera,” Mr. Grey said thoughtfully. “And the book.”
    “The Magic Flute,”
Louisa informed him. “And
Miss Truesdale.”
    “The Magic Flute?”
Lady Olivia exclaimed. “I missed that last year. I shall have to make plans to attend.”
    “I would take
Miss Truesdale
over
The Marriage of Figaro,”
Mr. Grey said, “but perhaps not
The Magic Flute.
There is something so cheering about hell boilething in one’s heart.”
    “Heartwarming, even,” Annabel muttered.
    “What did you say, Miss Winslow?” he asked.
    Annabel swallowed. He was smiling benignly, but she could hear the pointy little jab in his voice, and frankly, it terrified her. She could not enter into a battle with this man and win. Of that she was certain.
    “I have never seen
The Magic Flute,”
she announced.
    “Never?” Lady Olivia said. “But how can that be?” “Opera is rarely performed in Gloucestershire, I’m afraid.”
    “You must go see it,” Lady Olivia said. “You simply must.”
    “I was planning to attend this evening,” Annabel said. “Lady Louisa’s family had invited me.”
    “But you can’t go if she’s home reading a book,” Lady Olivia finished shrewdly. She turned to Louisa. “You will have to put off Miss Truesdale and her silent gentleman until tomorrow. You cannot allow Miss Winslow to miss the opera.”
    “Why don’t you join us?” Louisa asked.
    Annabel thought she might kill her.
    “You said you missed it last year,” Louisa continued. “We have a large box. It is never full.”
    Lady Olivia’s face lit with delight. “That is most kind of you. I should love to attend.”
    “And of course you are invited as well, Mr. Grey,” Louisa said.
    Annabel was definitely going to kill her. By the most painful means imaginable.
    “I would be delighted,” he said. “But you must allow me to give you a copy of
Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman
in exchange for the honor.”
    “Thank you,” Louisa said, but Annabel could have sworn she sounded disappointed. “That would be—”
    “I will have it delivered to your house this afternoon,” he continued smoothly, “so that you may begin it right away.”
    “You