weird sort of way, she looked like a deliciously attractive . . . young boy. The thought unsettled him. Although, looking closer, he could see she looked nothing like a boy. That didnât settle his nerves at all. She looked too damned tempting. And utterly unaware of it.
He supposed there was a reason it was amusing to see men in womenâs clothing, in pantomimes and at the theater. Because they looked foolish in them. Females, he realized, didnât look amusing in menâs clothing. At least, this one didnât. She looked incredibly more like a woman, curved and supple, and for all her lack of height, perfectly proportioned. Constantine was shocked and titillated, and didnât know where to look. He knew where he wanted to look. But, of course, he couldnât.
âNow, wasnât I right?â Miss Lovelaceâs voice said, from where she sat at the table, spooning up her porridge. âYouâve gone and scandalized the gent, Lizzie, my love. Best hop upstairs and put on a gown. Heâs proper as can be, and itâs clear he doesnât know what to make of you. Lord Wylde may keep country hours, but he clearly isnât used to country ways.â
âOh, Lord Wylde,â Lisabeth said, with a mischievous pout. âNever say you want me to put on a gown this morning? I assure you no one will see us who hasnât seen me this way many times before. Happens I have a fine riding habit, all amber velvet; itâs a treat to see and cost the earth. But whereâs the sense in putting it on if weâre going to go down dusty roads, and maybe even get caught in a sudden squall, as happens so often hereabouts? The habit would be ruined. After our ride, Iâd come home smelling of horse, and covered with mud. But that wonât matter if Iâm wearing old clothes, made for rough use.
âUnless,â she added, with a sly look under her lashes, âyou actually are interested in honoring our fathersâ bargain? Then, of course, I could see that youâd want everyone in the village to notice weâre keeping company. After all, I suppose you want to see the village, the church, the inn, and such, donât you? If youâre dressed as you are, and suddenly Iâm all tarted up like a Christmas goose to go with you, everyone will suspect somethingâs in the wind . . . But this is so sudden.â
She placed a hand on her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. She also looked as if she might burst out laughing.
He was at a loss for words.
âI didnât think so,â she said. âSo, what say you, sir? You look fine as fivepence, by the way. No one here dresses like that unless thereâs a funeral . . . or a wedding.â She grinned at him.
âI say,â he said carefully, âthat you should wear whatever you wish. Are those fresh-baked biscuits I spy? They smell delicious.â
She smiled. âYes. Letâs eat, and then go delight the villagers.â
He nodded, and hid his apprehension. He wanted to meet the locals, of course, and find out if any of them knew anything about him or his history. That was of paramount importance. This woman would keep her silence. He could tell she had pride as well as spirit. Still, even though she said she didnât want him, there was that odd moment last night to consider. What had she wanted? But he believed her given word.
Even so, no woman would be thrilled to let the world know heâd been offered her hand and turned it down. Although, he thought moodily, she might be thrilled to let them know sheâd turned him down. What he had to do, he decided, as he put a hot biscuit on his plate, was try to turn her up sweet without making her like him too much, or too little.
âAnd whereâs the captain this morning?â Constantine asked a while later, after theyâd had their breakfast and were walking to the stables.
âGrandyâs out on his
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