Read Anne Barbour for Free Online Page B

recollect herself suddenly. “I don’t know what got int’ me t’be chattering away like this.” She slid off the bed. “I really do have t’go, now, sir, but I’ll be bringin’ yer dinner up in a while, so maybe we can talk more then.”
    John flashed a practiced smile. “I’ll look forward to it, Doris.”
    The little maid whisked herself out of the room with a flip of her skirts, and John donned the nightshirt. This accomplished, he lay back once more.
    So, there was a mystery surrounding his lovely hostess. Too bad, he could not stay around to unwrap it. Even more, he would like to unwrap Miss Meade. He had a notion that one might find something under her cool, patrician exterior well worth investigating. A fleeting memory shot through him of an emerald gaze connecting with his in a sudden, unexpected moment of intimacy.
    He waggled his foot experimentally. And winced. He would be going nowhere for a day or two at least. Well, a lot could happen in a day or two, if one put one’s mind to it. If her ladyship had been shut away by herself without masculine attention for years, she ought to be ripe for a spot of dalliance.
    Unless, the good doctor was attending to her needs. Somehow neither conveyed the impression of an amorous relationship with each other, but impressions could be deceiving. Mmm. One would see what one would see.
    In the meantime, it would be a good idea to make one’s way down to the stable to examine the stallion that supposedly belonged to him. He could not manage this on his own as yet, but perhaps if he were, oh, so charming, a crutch might be forthcoming, or a stalwart footman or two to tote him about.
    His hopes in this direction, however, were doomed to failure. To his pleased surprise, it was not Doris who brought his dinner tray, but Miss Meade herself.
    “Absolutely not” was her response to his request for conveyance to the stable. “Tomorrow or the next day, perhaps, but for today, you must rest, Mr. Smith.”
    He put out a hand as she prepared to leave the room.
    “Can you not stay for a few moments?” he asked plaintively.
    She hesitated. “I’m afraid not. Mariah and Grandmama are waiting for me downstairs to go in to dinner.”
    He assumed an expression of humble resignation. “Of course, ma’am, I realize I have no claim on your attentions. Perhaps if you could have someone bring up a book or a journal after a while, I could while away the rest of the evening in a relatively pleasant occupation.”
    She burst into laughter, and John found that he very much relished the sound of it.
    “You are the most complete hand, Mr. Smith. I wonder if you are ever at a loss—or if you ever exit a conversation without obtaining what you want.”
    He bent a stare of wounded innocence on her, but found he could not maintain it. Instead, he found himself chuckling guiltily. “Was I successful this time?” he asked.
    Still smiling, she replied, “No, I’m afraid not. I do not wish to keep Mariah and Grandmama waiting. However, I shall send up some books, and after dinner, we will come up to keep you company.”
    He would rather have had Miss Meade all to himself, but he murmured a suitable expression of gratitude.
    “Now, is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Smith? I’m afraid we are unused to gentlemen visitors.”
    “You are far from a city here?” he asked carefully, and she dropped her gaze.
    “Actually, no. We live in Hertfordshire—near Buntingford, and we are a scant thirty miles north of London.”
    John drew in an involuntary breath. Somehow he felt this information was important.
    “Ah.” He hesitated for a moment. “Earlier, you asked if I had come to visit you? Was I indeed on your land when we first, er, encountered each other?”
    “Yes, I had been out for a ride, and Silk accompanied me. She had run into the shed in pursuit of some small creature. You were evidently riding along the track that runs by it. It’s just a path, really, and it’s