Amanda Scott by Bath Charade

On the contrary, she thought, her life was perfectly ordinary and Lyndhurst the closest likeness to a hero she had ever met. Most depressing, for dangerous as he could look, he was really only annoying, not exciting at all. And doubtless, the gypsy camp, if Brandon did remember to take her there, would turn out to be just as depressing, and dull into the bargain.
    Her outlook had improved, however, after a good night’s sleep, and by the time Brandon presented himself at Bathwick Hill House the following morning, she was looking forward to the outing with pleasurable anticipation. Thus, she was not at all pleased to see Sydney approaching them from the direction of the stables just as Brandon was lifting her into her saddle.
    “Say nothing about where we are going,” she hissed, shooting an oblique glance at her nearby groom to assure herself that he was out of earshot.
    “No fear of that,” Brandon muttered, adding in a louder tone, “Good morning, Saint-Denis. A fine day, is it not? Been out riding already, I expect.”
    “Some time ago,” Sydney said, holding out his hand.
    His buckskin breeches and dark blue coat, Carolyn noted, seemed to have been molded to his trim, well-muscled body, and had clearly been tailored by experts. His snowy neckcloth was tied in a less intricate style than he sported with his evening dress, but not a hair was out of place, and she decided that if he had been riding, he had maintained an extremely sedate pace. That would not do for her. Her impatience communicated itself to her mount, and the black gelding fidgeted beneath her.
    “Where are you off to?” Sydney inquired, glancing at her but making no move to steady the gelding.
    “Oh, just hereabouts,” she said airily, “if Brandon can manage to bestir himself to mount within the next hour or so.”
    “Patience, madam,” Brandon said. Stepping toward his long-legged roan and taking his reins from the groom, he swung into the saddle with the easy grace of a man who spent a great deal of his spare time on horseback, then glanced at her with teasing laughter in his eyes. “Sure you want to do this, m’dear? Not too dangerous for you?”
    Startled, she glared at him, then glanced guiltily at Sydney, who regarded them both with an air of polite inquiry. “Dangerous?” he said.
    Carolyn held her breath, but Brandon only laughed again. “She challenged me to a run through the woods north of here. Know them like the back of my hand, of course, but she’ll have to think about what she’s doing. Gives me an edge, don’t you agree? Care to lay odds?”
    Carolyn shut her eyes, waiting for Sydney to announce that he would accompany them, but once again he surprised her. “You’re taking Cleves, I trust.” He was smiling, but she was glad she had not ordered her groom to remain behind.
    Affecting an offended attitude, Brandon murmured that certain people seemed to have no faith in him, and both men laughed. Annoyed with them, Carolyn waited only until she and Brandon had ridden out of the gates, with Cleves a discreet distance behind them, before expressing her displeasure.
    “You ought never to have said such a thing!”
    “What would you have had me say?” he demanded. “Unless you wanted me to tell him a real bouncer, that was the best thing I could think of to put him off. He knows you, don’t he? Knows that’s precisely the sort of nonsense you’d like better than a new gown. What’s more, we are riding in the woods, and you will have to think about what you’re doing, or you’re likely to have that pretty blue riding habit of yours stolen right off your back by the Romanys. I’m only hoping that fellow will give me back my watch and not just nip off with the money I’ve brought him. Still, he can’t think I’d send him more custom if he played me false, can he?”
    “No, I don’t suppose he can.” A moment later she said, “What is it like, the gypsy camp?”
    “Like any gypsy camp, I