A Country Gentleman by Ann Barker Page A

Thurlby eyed the horses with casual interest. They seemed to be a reasonably well-matched team. Such was not always the case with the stage, as opposed to the mail coach, which invariably took the cream of what was available.
    He turned from his observation of the horses to see that the door of the stage had been opened and a young man had jumped down and was turning to help some other passengers. ‘Benjamin Twizzle,’ Thurlby said to himself with a wry grin. ‘I’ll wager there’s a woman in the case.’
    He was acquainted with Twizzle’s father, a clergyman in a parish not far distant from Thurlby, and knew that the young man was the bane of his father’s life. They had met at variousfunctions where Benjamin’s conversation tended to be a little too racy for provincial tastes, and his manner with ladies rather more familiar than was pleasing to most of them.
    On one occasion, the earl had been attending a dinner with a few friends at Peterborough, when their quiet, sociable evening had been disturbed by a noisy group of young men in the public rooms. ‘We’ll not come here again,’ an older member of the party had said. ‘This sort of thing wouldn’t happen at the George.’
    Whilst agreeing with the view expressed, the earl, twenty-five years younger and, moreover, remembering his own youth, had been inclined to be more tolerant. Eventually, however, after the noise had continued unabated, he had gone out to make an objection , and had found the young men, Benjamin Twizzle included, behaving disrespectfully to the landlord. He had given them all a good dressing down.
    A little later, the dinner over, the earl had seen an acquaintance of his in the public rooms and had stopped to have a conversation . On leaving the hotel after the rest of his party, he had heard screams from one of the upstairs windows. It transpired that two elderly ladies had been looking out of the window at the night sky, when Benjamin Twizzle, out of sheer devilment, had taken down his breeches and bared his backside at them. The earl had given chase, but Twizzle, laughing, had managed to slip away in the dark.
    Now, Thurlby’s grin broadened, as the glimpse of a dark-blue skirt and a bonnet in profile confirmed his opinion that Twizzle must be in pursuit of a woman.
    ‘Allow me to assist you,’ the young man said solicitously. Then, as a smaller, black-clad figure emerged, he said, ‘And you too, Mrs Hedges.’
    Thurlby was conscious of a sudden stab of attraction. This young woman, fair-haired, petite, but with an excellent figure, was exactly the kind of female that he most admired. Struck by sudden guilt by his disrespect towards a lady who was clearly indeep mourning, he was on the point of turning away when, quite unexpectedly, something about her struck a chord of recognition. As if aware of his scrutiny, ‘Mrs Hedges’ turned her head, and his lordship found his eyes locking with those of a young lady whom he knew to be Miss Lavinia Muir. At once, the smile disappeared from his face.
    ‘Take that,’ he said, handing his tankard to a passing servant before striding forward. It was then that he had his second shock of the morning, for the lady in blue turned at his advent, and he found himself face to face with Isobel Macclesfield.
    The earl was not gifted in dissembling and, with no opportunity for giving any thought to how he should react, he simply stood still and exclaimed, ‘Oh my God!’
    Benjamin Twizzle, after a brief ‘Good day, my lord’, and a touch of his hat, prudently slipped out of sight.
    ‘Good day, Twizzle,’ replied Thurlby automatically, before turning to Lavinia and Isobel. ‘And now, ladies ,’ he went on, with gritted teeth, ‘if you will be so good as to accompany me into the inn, I shall make arrangements for your next journey.’ He extended his arm courteously to Lavinia, but she saw a dire warning in his gaze. ‘Mrs Hedges?’ he said, his brow darkening. He turned to Isobel. ‘If you