A Lady's Point of View by Jacqueline Diamond Page A

and said
coldly, “I believe we should be going, Miss Linley, if we are to arise in time
for church in the morning.”
    “Of course.” Meg excused herself
from the squire’s company with barely disguised relief. That he appeared
saddened by her departure gave her a twinge of guilt, as she did not deserve
his good opinion. Yet in her observation, ladies in society never refined upon
the hurt they might inflict on members of the opposite sex. Nor did gentlemen,
for that matter.
    After a ripple of farewells, Meg
found herself being handed up into the curricle by his lordship. Taking his
place beside her, he lifted the reins and slapped them against the horses’
backs. She wished some other members of his household had accompanied them, but
none had done so.
    The night was warm and they rode
for a time without speaking. Meg gazed up through the lenses, marvelling at the
beauty of the heretofore invisible stars.
    The silence weighed on her,
however, and she wondered if she should speak. She hesitated to invite trouble
by asking the marquis what had overset him, and yet she disliked to go on
wondering.
    “Have I given offence, my lord?” she asked.
    “Offence?” The indifference in
his tone was feigned, she felt certain.
    “Perhaps it is my gown,” Meg
ventured. “It is the best I possess, but I fear not so fine as those of some of
the ladies.”
    “I have no complaint about your
gown. If I had, I should blame myself for not paying you a better wage,” said
the marquis. The curricle rolled on through the night amid the soft, familiar
noises of hooves thumping against dirt, and leather harnesses creaking.
    The man was impossible! Meg
studied his frozen profile. A very handsome profile, she conceded, with high
cheekbones and a sharp nose. It bespoke character, Lady Mary would have said.
    At the thought of her mother, Meg
felt a pang of homesickness. What were they doing tonight? Which gown would
Angela wear to the garden party? How would the ton respond to her?
    If only she could be there, Meg
wished heartily. But how was she to take her leave? After that kiss in the
countryside, how could she confess the truth to Lord Bryn?
    “Am I correct in assuming that
you do not wish to remain a governess for long?” enquired the marquis icily.
    Fear flashed over Meg. “I beg
your pardon?”
    “From your conduct with Squire
Roberts, I take it that you have some interest in that regard,” he said.
    “Interest?” She stared at Lord
Bryn in amazement. Did he believe that she had set her cap for Squire Roberts?
    “Or is it your custom to flirt
boldly with whatever gentleman seeks you out?” he pursued relentlessly.
    “I—” Meg stopped. She had been
about to protest that she didn’t mean to flirt, but that was not true. She
could hardly admit that her conduct had been a demonstration for Veronica; that
would require violating the girl’s confidence.
    “How you conduct yourself with men of your own
acquaintance is none of my affair,” his lordship continued, “but when you behave
with such ...   such shameless abandon
under my very nose, I cannot but remark upon it.”
    “Shameless abandon!” Meg sat up
angrily. “My lord, I realize that as my employer you may say what you wish—”
    “I don’t stand upon such
privilege,” he snapped, his eyes fixed on the moonlit path before them. “You
may reply however you wish without fear of retaliation, Miss Linley.”
    “What have I done to merit such
an accusation?” she demanded. “Danced with the squire once—”
    “A waltz,” he pointed out
tersely.
    “Spoke with him privately for
brief spell—”
    “Placed your hand on his arm,”
the marquis added.
    “And refused his invitation to
stroll in his rose garden,” she finished. “Or smell his lemon tree.” At the
memory, she began to laugh again.
    “I fail to see the humour.” Lord
Bryn guided the team around a pothole.
    “Pardon me.” She chuckled. “It
was only that I imagined Squire Roberts standing