A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND Page A
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and she slid into it with a slight, unreadable look at him over her shoulder.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ was all that she said.
Once again, conversation languished around the table. Lady Margaret was twitting the Countess over the curious behaviour of her personal maid.
‘I found that odd creature Dent polishing my doorknob this morning! Strange behaviour for an upper servant!’
The atmosphere in the breakfast room felt odd and tense with no one quite at ease. Peter watched Cassie as she sipped a cup of chocolate and ate a piece of toast. This morning her glorious copper brown hair had been subdued into a neat braid and no curls allowed to escape. She was dressed in a gown of pink that became her verywell. Peter, an observant man, saw Lady Margaret flick the gown a comprehensive look and her mouth thin with displeasure. He hid a smile. Evidently the chaperon disliked competition from her charge.
Anthony Lyndhurst put down his paper and rose to his feet.
‘I thought to show you about the estate and the stud farm this morning, Quinlan, if you would care for a ride,’ he said. ‘The ladies are planning a picnic luncheon by the lake with boating afterwards, but we have time for a ride out before we join them. I would like to show you my horses. I imagine you are a connoisseur of bloodlines.’
Peter opened his mouth to accept the invitation, but was forestalled. Cassie Ward had also risen to her feet and was facing him, her determined little chin set firm, her golden brown eyes sparking.
‘I must plead a prior claim on my betrothed , Anthony,’ she said, stressing the word. There was a thread of steel in her voice. ‘Surely you are not to whisk him away when we are barely acquainted?’ She turned to Peter. ‘Lord Quinlan, I would like to speak to you in the library. Now, if you please.’
‘Lord Quinlan,’ Cassie said, with arctic chill, once the door was closed behind the two of them, ‘allow me to clarify a couple of matters. We are not compromised, we are not betrothed and we are certainly not getting married.’
Peter looked at her. Her eyes were flashing with indignation, but she was standing very stiff and tense. Her voluptuous, vulnerable mouth was quivering, betraying her feelings. Peter felt a stab of compassion for her. Shewas very young and inexperienced to be plunged into such a situation.
He wanted to talk to her, but the library was not the place. It felt oppressive and enclosed. He could not reach her here, where duty and convention would squash her spontaneous spirit. She would dismiss him and he would never get a chance to convince her that he wanted her more for herself than for all the fortune in the world.
‘Well?’ Cassie demanded, fizzing with indignation, clearly unable to wait any longer for a response. ‘Are you not going to say anything?’
‘Yes,’ Peter said. ‘Will you come riding with me?’
Cassie looked startled and—he would have sworn—tempted. Then she put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely.
‘What has that to do with the price of fish? Did you not understand me, my lord? I would prefer not to go anywhere with you. I would prefer that you leave Lyndhurst Chase directly. Now. At once! Is that clear?’
Peter could not repress a smile. ‘As crystal, Miss Ward. Indeed it would be difficult to misunderstand you.’
Cassie looked aggravated. ‘Then why are you still here?’
‘Because I would like to speak with you and I find this room unsuited to my purpose,’ Peter said. ‘Hence I wondered whether you would like to come riding with me. It is a very beautiful day and I feel that our acquaintance would prosper out of doors.’ He strode over to the window, then turned back to look at her. He noted that Cassie could not help one quick, betraying glance outside, as though the beautiful morning beckoned to her too.
‘The climate is not the point at issue here, my lord,’ she said.
Peter smiled. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Ward. What is the
‘Thank you, my lord,’ was all that she said.
Once again, conversation languished around the table. Lady Margaret was twitting the Countess over the curious behaviour of her personal maid.
‘I found that odd creature Dent polishing my doorknob this morning! Strange behaviour for an upper servant!’
The atmosphere in the breakfast room felt odd and tense with no one quite at ease. Peter watched Cassie as she sipped a cup of chocolate and ate a piece of toast. This morning her glorious copper brown hair had been subdued into a neat braid and no curls allowed to escape. She was dressed in a gown of pink that became her verywell. Peter, an observant man, saw Lady Margaret flick the gown a comprehensive look and her mouth thin with displeasure. He hid a smile. Evidently the chaperon disliked competition from her charge.
Anthony Lyndhurst put down his paper and rose to his feet.
‘I thought to show you about the estate and the stud farm this morning, Quinlan, if you would care for a ride,’ he said. ‘The ladies are planning a picnic luncheon by the lake with boating afterwards, but we have time for a ride out before we join them. I would like to show you my horses. I imagine you are a connoisseur of bloodlines.’
Peter opened his mouth to accept the invitation, but was forestalled. Cassie Ward had also risen to her feet and was facing him, her determined little chin set firm, her golden brown eyes sparking.
‘I must plead a prior claim on my betrothed , Anthony,’ she said, stressing the word. There was a thread of steel in her voice. ‘Surely you are not to whisk him away when we are barely acquainted?’ She turned to Peter. ‘Lord Quinlan, I would like to speak to you in the library. Now, if you please.’
‘Lord Quinlan,’ Cassie said, with arctic chill, once the door was closed behind the two of them, ‘allow me to clarify a couple of matters. We are not compromised, we are not betrothed and we are certainly not getting married.’
Peter looked at her. Her eyes were flashing with indignation, but she was standing very stiff and tense. Her voluptuous, vulnerable mouth was quivering, betraying her feelings. Peter felt a stab of compassion for her. Shewas very young and inexperienced to be plunged into such a situation.
He wanted to talk to her, but the library was not the place. It felt oppressive and enclosed. He could not reach her here, where duty and convention would squash her spontaneous spirit. She would dismiss him and he would never get a chance to convince her that he wanted her more for herself than for all the fortune in the world.
‘Well?’ Cassie demanded, fizzing with indignation, clearly unable to wait any longer for a response. ‘Are you not going to say anything?’
‘Yes,’ Peter said. ‘Will you come riding with me?’
Cassie looked startled and—he would have sworn—tempted. Then she put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely.
‘What has that to do with the price of fish? Did you not understand me, my lord? I would prefer not to go anywhere with you. I would prefer that you leave Lyndhurst Chase directly. Now. At once! Is that clear?’
Peter could not repress a smile. ‘As crystal, Miss Ward. Indeed it would be difficult to misunderstand you.’
Cassie looked aggravated. ‘Then why are you still here?’
‘Because I would like to speak with you and I find this room unsuited to my purpose,’ Peter said. ‘Hence I wondered whether you would like to come riding with me. It is a very beautiful day and I feel that our acquaintance would prosper out of doors.’ He strode over to the window, then turned back to look at her. He noted that Cassie could not help one quick, betraying glance outside, as though the beautiful morning beckoned to her too.
‘The climate is not the point at issue here, my lord,’ she said.
Peter smiled. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Ward. What is the
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