Beauty in Disguise by Mary Moore Page A

whatsoever. Miss Montgomery has always been a big help to me in such areas. I quite look on her for all guidance when it comes to matters of Society.”
    He was forced to allow the subject to drop, but he decided he would quit this room as soon as possible. He had feigned tiredness from a full day of riding, so excused himself when the tea tray arrived.
    So here he was, alone in his room at the unseemly hour of ten o’clock. His Bible lay open on his lap. Lord, I only want to be free of this place. Perhaps You have brought me here for some purpose? Give me Your peace and grace to stay when impatience begs me to flee. And Lord, help me to focus on You and Your will as I face so many distractions.
    He was distracted indeed. He could not stop thinking about the woman on the bridge last night. She caused so many emotions in his breast.
    She was amazing! Her voice was rich and calming. Her bearing was regal; she was a lady, of that he was certain. He knew it was odd of him, considering it was he who asked her to come, but he was concerned about her visiting the bridge alone so late at night. What if he had taken her second visit as an invitation to something more? She was defenseless.
    He was very attracted to her, and he was happy that he could in no way attribute that to her physical appearance. He used to tell himself often that even had Lady Kathryn not been so beautiful, he would still have been drawn to her. But because she was so beautiful, he really never knew that for certain.
    But this fairy could be hideous—which would explain the hood—and he would still be attracted to her. She made him laugh. That had become very important to him. Even the most beautiful woman’s features would one day fade. He needed so much more in common with someone.
    Only look at his preference for Miss Montgomery. When unencumbered by her charge, she was delightful. And even when the chit was near, he believed Miss Montgomery sensed his feelings easily and shared them, if only with a simple smile.
    He had not chased after the woman last night. He did not want to snatch midnight meetings with her. He wanted to find her, get to know her. Sight unseen, she was too special to let go.
    * * *
    As Kathryn laid down her brush and donned her cotton night rail, she supposed she would just have to be herself—herself in a foolish wig, shoes and spectacles—and wait for the fortnight to end. She had no delusions, even after such short acquaintance; there would be no marriage between Lord Dalton and Charity. It was also clear he was already trying to invent ways to shorten his stay at the manor and decrease the amount of time he must politely spend with its inhabitants. Perhaps she would be lucky, and he would abort his stay and return to London. Yet a pang touched her heart at the thought.
    Her life had changed so that his presence should be of absolutely no importance to her. And now, despite her sheer weariness of an hour ago, she was wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. She could not go downstairs for a book; she had only just left the drawing room complaining she could not keep her eyes open.
    Suddenly she perked up, and the wheels in her mind began to turn. Could she go to the bridge? It was not yet ten o’clock; the family would be ensconced in the drawing room at least another hour with their guest. The locals never used the bridge after dark, no matter what the time. Indeed, witches, gnomes and trolls were her friends!
    Even as she questioned herself, she rooted through her drab dresses to find her rumpled walking dress of the previous night. By the time she finished hooking the buttons on the serviceable gown, she was resolved to get some fresh air.
    She cherished her nighttime freedom, though she had never gone two nights in a row, much less three. Once a week was all she dared risk. But her pistol had given her courage, and once she knew the freedom, even rarely, she could not give it up.
    Kathryn was not a fool. She did not dismiss the