Smuggler's Lady by Jane Feather Page A

the grass verge. A little shiver ran down her spine as she determined that this exchange should be pleasantly dignified. Her position on horseback gave her some advantage over the foot soldier and certainly ensured that there could be no physical contact. She turned slightly in the saddle, smiling graciously down at him.
    â€œWe are not quite so unconventional, sir, that an unmarried lady may pay a call on an unmarried gentlemen with impunity.”
    â€œBut it is considered quite proper for a young lady to go abroad unattended?” he queried with raised eyebrows.
    â€œNot for young ladies, sir, no. But I do not fall into that category. Only the highest sticklers would see anything to censure in a widow of advanced years going about unescorted,” she responded sweetly.
    Lord Rutherford pursed his lips, examining her. Her riding habit of rust-colored cloth was serviceable rather than elegant, but it was well cut, and the color complimented her hair, tendrils of which escaped from beneath the brim of her tall hat. Her muslin stock was pristine and beautifully starched, lifting that square little chin, and no expense had been spared on her boots. Although the scuffs on the leather were visible through the high polish, the boots were clearly of the highest quality.
    â€œA widow of advanced years,” he mused. “I can only assume, ma’am, that you are fishing for a compliment. I cannot decide whether to oblige you or not.” The smile he gave her quite took her breath away. Warm and conspiratorial, it invited a light, flirtatious response.
    â€œOh, but think how unkind it would be to disappoint me,” she countered before she had time to question the wisdom of accepting the invitation. “You must realize how few compliments come my way.”
    â€œWell, if you will go about dressed as you were the other evening, it is hardly surprising,” he retorted. “And, by the by, I intend to discover your reasons for that absurd masquerade. They are presumably part and parcel of the whole conundrum.”
    Merrie felt a stab of panic. There was no knowing what this man would find out if he put his mind to it. “There is no conundrum, sir. Merely an impoverished widow who cannot afford the frills of fashion.”
    â€œI beg your pardon, ma’am, but that is really doing it a little too brown.” His eyebrows lifted quizzically. “Pray do not insult my intelligence with such tarra-diddles. You may be able to pull the wool over the eyes of your neighbors, but I am not so easily deceived.”
    Meredith chewed her lip in frustration. “I fail to see what business it is of yours, my lord, how I choose to dress.”
    â€œStrictly speaking, of course, it is none of my business,” he said thoughtfully. “But I am in sore need of occupation these days, and a little mystery to unravel will fill my idle hours quite nicely.”
    â€œI am flattered, sir, that I should be considered worthy of such attention. It is a signal honor to be able to serve your lordship in such a manner.” She clipped her words, incensed at the cool arrogance of the statement that quite destroyed her resolution to avoid undignified sparring.
    He bowed. “The honor is all mine, my lady.”
    â€œI am certain the activity will soon pall, sir.” She gave him a shark’s smile. “Small-town mysteries will not be able to compensate you for the absence of those luxuries and comforts to which I know you must be accustomed. You know the tale of the princess and the pea, of course? I am forcibly reminded of it when I think of you tossing and turning on Matthew Mallory’s bed.”
    The barb seemed even more successful than she had hoped, and Merrie suddenly found herself very glad that she had the advantage of the mare’s back. Lord Rutherford’s face went ominously still, and the gray eyes became as cold as the winter sea. “I do not find the comparison amusing.