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it would be an interesting day.
     
     
    Chapter Six
     

     
    “When is your birthday?”
    “Why?” Amanda looked at the man beside her as he competently drove through the traffic, avoiding the piles of snow at the edge of the road whilst they headed toward the park.
    “I wondered,” Harry continued, “where will you be on the auspicious day?” He maneuvered around a stagecoach as it slowed to turn into the courtyard of an inn.
    “At Malthore Manor, I would guess. Unless we remain longer in Brighton. Again, my lord, why?”
    He chose to ignore her query. Amanda could feel herself becoming annoyed. Aggravating man. Why was she here with him when she could choose not to be? Because I did not choose not to be.
    “Why am I no longer Harry, but back to ‘my lord’?”
    How to answer that easily? Amanda decided to play the ingénue. “Did I really call you by your given name? My lord, please forgive my impertinence.”
    “No, you called me Harry. My given name, as you well know, is Henry. However, never ever call me that. It was my paternal grandfather’s name, and he was not a man I wish to be associated with. And I hope you will continue to call me Harry, my dear Amanda, whenever possible.”
    “Why?”
    He waited until he had passed the phaeton through the narrow entrance to the park. It was not too busy yet; he was able to urge the horses on. “I can think of nothing worse, my dear, than hearing you in the throes of passion begging ‘more, my lord’ instead of having my name on your lips. Surely you would prefer me to beg you by name when I want you to touch me?”
    “If ever you want me to touch you, my lord, there is still no guarantee I will do so,” she responded, trying not to think of how she could or would touch him and not remarking on the fact he talked of her begging him to touch her. I may have a vivid imagination , but not that vivid. Or at least as a nicely brought up young lady, I should not! However, her mind began to spin. She risked a glance at him. Damn him, he looked very satisfied, as if he could read her mind.
    A barouche was approaching them.
    “Saved by the bell?” he asked. “Or should that be saved by the barouche?”
    “I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” Amanda declared frostily. “Oh, is this Lady Greenford’s barouche approaching?”
    “You know fine well it is. So five minutes of inconsequential talk before my horses just have to move on. Be warned, no, you cannot get down and walk with her. So don’t even think it. This is our time.”
    “Who decrees so?” she retorted, and then groaned inwardly at the challenge she had unwittingly issued.
    “I do, my dear. As do you, consciously or unconsciously. Your demeanor tells me so.”
    It was as well the two conveyances had drawn level, as Amanda found herself speechless.
    “Godmama, how lovely.” Harry leaned over toward the carriage drawn next to them. “You are an early riser after last night’s activities.”
    Lady Greenford laughed. “I am always an early riser, Harry, as you well know. You miss so much otherwise.” Her keen eyes moved shrewdly from one face to the other. She spoke directly to Amanda. “Do you not agree, Lady Amanda?”
    “Sometimes, Lady Greenford, but other times one can avoid trouble, by keeping away. If one has that option, of course.”
    Mary smiled. She spoke in a low voice. “Keep him on his toes, and keep him guessing, my dear. He’ll appreciate you and all you do for him in the long run.”
    She took her leave of them before Harry had recourse to move on.
    “So are you an early riser, my lord?” Amanda rushed into speech before he had a chance to ask what Lady Mary had muttered. Amanda knew she was being provocative, and traced the outline of her lips with her tongue. She watched one eyebrow rise as he noted her innuendo.
    “When necessary, my dear. But I prefer to take my time. To savor everything. So much more satisfaction in not being rushed. Otherwise, it