Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance by Sarah-Jane Steele

snagging his coat. Elizabeth’s poke bonnet lay discarded on the ground.
    Rational thought gave way to fear. Fear that Elizabeth was compromised. He had to save her from her foolishness. The bushes gave up their last struggle and Runthorne burst out into a wide clearing.
    “ Draw a circle, then down and flick.”
    Elizabeth sat on a fallen tree, her dark hair crowned with daisies. She was drawing with a stick on a patch of loose earth. Sitting at her feet were a small group of children, all from the town by their clothing. They also held sticks. Some mimicked Elizabeth. The others stared at him in astonishment. One, the smallest, began to cry. Elizabeth started.
    “ Goodness, Lord Runthorne, whatever are you doing?” Elizabeth gathered the child onto her lap and blotted the tears with her handkerchief. She smiled at the little girl then shot him a furious glare. “Well?”
    He was torn between embarrassment and pleasure.
    “ I was just out for a walk,” he said, “and heard you.” He decided not to add what he had thought she was doing.
    Elizabeth continued to glare at him. He cleared his throat. “Is this a game?”
    “ No.”
    Runthorne pushed his fingers through his hair. A twig fell to the ground. He cleared his throat again.
    “ Do you have a chill?” Elizabeth was as composed as a matron in her drawing room.
    Most women would have been mortified to have been discovered romping with the local urchins. He tried to imagine Aurelia in the same circumstances and his imagination failed.
    He smiled. “Thank you for your concern, but no, I am quite well.”
    Elizabeth did not return his smile and he had the distinct impression that she had read his thoughts when he had burst into the clearing. “I should not wish for the children to take a cold from you. None of them can afford to be ill. There has been too much sickness recently.”
    This time he kept the smile from his lips. Elizabeth’s eyes dared him to argue, but good sense prevailed and he merely nodded.
    For a moment, Elizabeth continued to glare. Then she clapped her hands. “It is time to go home, children. Please try to practise your letters before tomorrow. Collect your baskets. Tom,” she said to the tallest boy, “please make certain they all get home safely. Alice, give my kind regards to your mother. I shall call on her shortly. Now, hurry.”
    T he children scattered, collecting up baskets that he now saw were full of wild strawberries and some greenery.
    “ Nettles for soup,” Elizabeth said, again seeming to read his mind. “Sometimes they find wild garlic and other herbs. Captain Maybourne allows the children to forage for whatever grows wild as long as they do not disturb the game birds. I make sure they come to no harm.” She removed the daisies from her hair as the last child departed. Runthorne offered her his arm.
    “ I think I should prefer to walk back along the path,” Elizabeth said. “The bushes are too dense to walk through with any decorum.”
    She was laughing at him, but he did not think it was unkind. He winced, relieved that he was back in her good graces. “You are cruel, lady,” he said.
    “ Yes,” she said. Her eyes were thoughtful. “I think, perhaps, I am.”
    Runthorne slowed his steps to hers. The leisurely pace came back to him, as though he had never stopped walking by her side. It felt natural. He always walked too fast for Aurelia, or too slowly.
    He pushed the treacherous thought away and concentrated on Elizabeth’s words.
    “ I really feel that I owe you an apology,” she said, as they walked along the path. “It was cruel of me to jilt you as I did.”
    He had not expected this. “Some would say so but I have no doubt you had your reasons,” he said. “I wish you had shared them with me at the time.”
    Elizabeth kept her face averted, seemingly intent on not miss-stepping on the stony path.
    “ I am sure I left my bonnet near here,” she said. “Ah, there it is.”
    Her hand slipped from