find romance elsewhere, however.”
Nell stared at her, shocked at last. “Romance?”
“Well, of course,” Rory replied, wide-eyed. “Does not every woman long for romance?” Nell allowed herself a bemused nod, not trusting herself to speak. Rory went on. “I own I should like to be really, truly in love, but I doubt it is in my nature. The minute I think I am in love—and I have thought so many times, you know—I discover something about him that puts me right off. Like my drawing master, for example. He was a delightful man. Handsome beyond permission and a voice that could charm anyone, but I soon discovered he had no sense of humor. And Hailey, Papa’s groom. A great sense of adventure. He was full to the brim with ideas and had a wonderful sense of humor. But I soon realized he would be quite out of place at an assembly or even in Mama’s drawing room. So I fell out of love immediately.”
“Wh-what does poor Huntley lack?” Nell asked weakly.
“Oh, any number of things,” Rory responded without a blink. “He is not at all romantic, you know. He becomes utterly cynical whenever anyone mentions the advantages of rank, though Papa certainly would not have entertained the notion of a marriage between us had he still been a mere younger son instead of a wealthy earl. And he makes not the slightest effort to win my regard. He treats me, in fact, like a child, and not even a favorite child at that. My behavior shocks him from time to time, and he has an unfortunate tendency to bellow when he is displeased. He does not understand that I am constitutionally incapable of sitting quietly and sewing seams as his mother must have done. Why, the first thing he told Papa after the betrothal papers were signed was that I must no longer be allowed to ride about the estate without a groom to attend me. Can you believe such fustian? I own I was vastly annoyed with him. And with Papa as well. For what must he do but agree with the idiotish man! I ask you, Aunt Nell.” Rory spread her hands in a gesture that, in anyone else, might have been meant to indicate helplessness. But Nell did not think her niece was at all the helpless sort.
“Surely, no well-bred young lady rides unaccompanied in the country,” she suggested for lack of anything else to say.
“Well, I didn’t dress to look like a young lady at such times,” Rory said flatly. “Whenever I rode alone like that, it was because I wished to ride astride, unhampered by skirts and conventions alike. I wore boy’s clothing. Besides,” she added hastily, “on my papa’s very own estates, who would dare to accost me?”
Who, indeed? Nell thought, ruthlessly stifling her shock at the thought of her niece in boy’s clothing. If anyone could take care of herself, she was willing to believe Rory could. She regarded that young woman with fascination. In the reflected firelight Rory looked like a vibrant, golden girl. Her hair glittered with gilt highlights. Even her simple white muslin gown seemed to pulse now with an orange-gold life of its own. Surely, no man could look at such a girl and not be besotted. She seemed nearly magical, a sort of fairy princess. No, not a fairy princess, Nell amended. Fairy princesses were by nature generally gentle, submissive sorts. Nell doubted that there was a submissive bone in Rory’s body. His lordship would certainly have his work cut out for him. She wondered if he had half a notion of what lay ahead of him.
She realized Rory was waiting for her to comment. “I am certain you must feel perfectly secure on your papa’s estates, dear, where everyone knows who you are. But I do hope you will not attempt to ride alone or improperly attired while you are staying with us. Not only Lord Huntley, but everyone else would stare to see you behave so improperly.”
“Well, I brought my mare, for I was persuaded we should ride from time to time. I hope we may do so often.”
“Of course we shall, if you like. There are some
Nell stared at her, shocked at last. “Romance?”
“Well, of course,” Rory replied, wide-eyed. “Does not every woman long for romance?” Nell allowed herself a bemused nod, not trusting herself to speak. Rory went on. “I own I should like to be really, truly in love, but I doubt it is in my nature. The minute I think I am in love—and I have thought so many times, you know—I discover something about him that puts me right off. Like my drawing master, for example. He was a delightful man. Handsome beyond permission and a voice that could charm anyone, but I soon discovered he had no sense of humor. And Hailey, Papa’s groom. A great sense of adventure. He was full to the brim with ideas and had a wonderful sense of humor. But I soon realized he would be quite out of place at an assembly or even in Mama’s drawing room. So I fell out of love immediately.”
“Wh-what does poor Huntley lack?” Nell asked weakly.
“Oh, any number of things,” Rory responded without a blink. “He is not at all romantic, you know. He becomes utterly cynical whenever anyone mentions the advantages of rank, though Papa certainly would not have entertained the notion of a marriage between us had he still been a mere younger son instead of a wealthy earl. And he makes not the slightest effort to win my regard. He treats me, in fact, like a child, and not even a favorite child at that. My behavior shocks him from time to time, and he has an unfortunate tendency to bellow when he is displeased. He does not understand that I am constitutionally incapable of sitting quietly and sewing seams as his mother must have done. Why, the first thing he told Papa after the betrothal papers were signed was that I must no longer be allowed to ride about the estate without a groom to attend me. Can you believe such fustian? I own I was vastly annoyed with him. And with Papa as well. For what must he do but agree with the idiotish man! I ask you, Aunt Nell.” Rory spread her hands in a gesture that, in anyone else, might have been meant to indicate helplessness. But Nell did not think her niece was at all the helpless sort.
“Surely, no well-bred young lady rides unaccompanied in the country,” she suggested for lack of anything else to say.
“Well, I didn’t dress to look like a young lady at such times,” Rory said flatly. “Whenever I rode alone like that, it was because I wished to ride astride, unhampered by skirts and conventions alike. I wore boy’s clothing. Besides,” she added hastily, “on my papa’s very own estates, who would dare to accost me?”
Who, indeed? Nell thought, ruthlessly stifling her shock at the thought of her niece in boy’s clothing. If anyone could take care of herself, she was willing to believe Rory could. She regarded that young woman with fascination. In the reflected firelight Rory looked like a vibrant, golden girl. Her hair glittered with gilt highlights. Even her simple white muslin gown seemed to pulse now with an orange-gold life of its own. Surely, no man could look at such a girl and not be besotted. She seemed nearly magical, a sort of fairy princess. No, not a fairy princess, Nell amended. Fairy princesses were by nature generally gentle, submissive sorts. Nell doubted that there was a submissive bone in Rory’s body. His lordship would certainly have his work cut out for him. She wondered if he had half a notion of what lay ahead of him.
She realized Rory was waiting for her to comment. “I am certain you must feel perfectly secure on your papa’s estates, dear, where everyone knows who you are. But I do hope you will not attempt to ride alone or improperly attired while you are staying with us. Not only Lord Huntley, but everyone else would stare to see you behave so improperly.”
“Well, I brought my mare, for I was persuaded we should ride from time to time. I hope we may do so often.”
“Of course we shall, if you like. There are some
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