Barbara Metzger by Rakes Ransom

Author:Rakes Ransom
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-12-17T08:19:38+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Where’s Baron? He wasn’t hurt by my ride yesterday, was he?”

“Quite the contrary. Ah, that is, he’s back at the livery. I’m exercising this new hack for Lawrence, as a return favour. I’m thinking of purchasing him.”

“Why would you? He has a surly disposition, and he doesn’t like dogs.”

“True. Shall we get down and walk? I’m enjoying this as little as the horse.”

They left both horses tied to a tree, in Lem’s care. Now the earl could relax, and Pen could race around without fear of being kicked if she came too near the bad-tempered gelding. Jacelyn was happy enough to dismount. What was tender yesterday was sore today, despite hot soaks. Not intending to gallop, she had worn the brown velvet habit again, only incidentally hoping for his lordship’s warm approval. She only had to fluff out the skirt once or twice with her crop, and adjust the blue veil on her hat before he noticed.

Grinning, he said, “Very becoming outfit, by the way. I meant to tell you at the mews, but I was so overcome I couldn’t get the words out.”

“Gammon! I suppose Spanish coin is my reward for fishing for compliments.”

“Pet, you don’t need to fish. Why, I’d be singing your praises right now, if I didn’t fear it would turn your head.” When she laughed he realized that one of her greatest charms lay in her not believing quite how beautiful she was. He doubted even the acclamations of the Polite World would turn her into a spoiled Diamond, thank goodness.

“Seriously,” he went on, “aside from what’s in it, the style is very attractive, and practical. Not all that ungainly yardage to be tossed over your arm like a dishcloth.”

Since Jacelyn was now using both arms to tug a stick away from the dog, she agreed wholeheartedly. “Isn’t it silly what some women will do for fashion’s sake?”

“I’ll wager more will be adopting this style. I, ah, understand Miss Ponsonby had a bit of difficulty with her train yesterday,” he said, doing some fishing himself.

Jacey chuckled. “Miss Ponsonby was a tad overset. Would you believe Miss Perfection herself acting so unladylike? Tripping over her skirts and”—she looked back at Lem, in the distance—“being found in a compromising position. I wouldn’t say anything to Arthur or anyone else, but I know you’ll appreciate the jest.”

“Anton-Fredricks?”

“Of course, though how she could—”

“And how compromising?”

“Not fatally, I suppose. It would be enough to give Aunt Ambel kitten-fits if I did it, but they were only embracing in the center of Richmond Garden’s maze.”

“That’s bad enough. Tell me something: Why didn’t you tell Arthur or Lady Hockney or any of the others? You can be sure Priscilla would have been the town crier, if it were you.”

“I know, and I thought of all the satisfaction it would have given me to tell. I even thought it wouldn’t be a bad thing if she and Anton-Fredricks had to marry. They deserve each other. I couldn’t do it though, and Miss Kinbeck and Miss Montmorency agreed: no woman should be forced to marry against her will.

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