scented breeze and the rustlings and soft twitterings of nocturnal creatures engaged in their various pursuits. After remaining motionless for several minutes in expectation of he knew not what. Cord slowly made his way to the manor house and thence to his bed.
Chapter Five
The next day dawned fine, and Gillian woke with an undefined sense of anticipation. It was not until she had risen to throw back the window hangings that she remembered yesterday’s encounter with the Earl of Cordray. The recollection, along with the brilliance of the morning sun, flooded her mind, bringing with it the reminder that she was to go riding with him this afternoon. To her annoyance, her pulse quickened.
She breakfasted hastily and returned to her bedchamber for a ruthless surveillance of her person in the looking glass. She supposed a certain maidenly fluttering was not to be wondered at, for it had been a very long time since she’d spent any length of time alone in a man’s company. And there seemed little doubt that this man was a cut above the others of her acquaintance. However, that was no reason for her to spend the day dreaming through her busy routine. She was even more annoyed with herself when, after luncheon with her aunt and uncle, she spent an hour dressing in her most becoming habit, twisting this way and that before her mirror, and teasing at one curl until it lay just there between the rakishly tilted hat brim and her left eyebrow.
She was ready and waiting long before the designated hour of his lordship’s arrival, but, naturally, when he was announced, she let ten minutes pass before she made her way down the stairs to the front parlor.
She entered the room to find the earl pacing before the hearth. Goodness, she thought, startled. Lord Cordray seemed to fill the room with his presence. He was not overly large, but there was that about him that commanded attention and shrank his surroundings to insignificance. He moved as though he were constructed of Toledo steel. When he turned to greet her, an internal light seemed to spring to life behind his emerald eyes and she found the effect extremely unsettling.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she replied, aware of the slight breathlessness in her voice. “I’m sorry my aunt and uncle are not on hand to greet you, but they usually nap after luncheon.”
The earl moved to take her hand, holding it just a fraction of a second longer than might have been considered proper. “Perhaps I shall see them when we return.” Lord Cordray bent to retrieve the riding crop he had laid along the back of a settee. “I need not ask,” he continued, smiling, “if you are ready for our outing. Your habit, if I may say so, is exceptionally becoming. That color suits you.”
Since this was precisely the reason Gillian had chosen the ensemble of a deep cherry that brought out the tint in her cheeks and lent a richness to her brown locks, there was no reason why she should feel a tide of heat rise to her cheeks. Indeed, she was surprised to note that the earl himself looked slightly taken aback at his own words.
Gillian managed a simple “Thank you, my lord” before turning to lead the earl from the house. Falstaff, in the care of Simms’s minion, awaited her just outside the front door. He greeted his mistress with courteous enthusiasm.
“He looks as though he’s trying to make amends for his disgraceful behavior yesterday,” remarked Lord Cordray.
“I fear he’s merely trying to cozzen me into giving him the sugar lump he knows I have tucked in my pocket,” Gillian replied with a laugh. “Here you are then, you shameless rascal.”
The earl moved forward, precipitating the groom, to toss Gillian into the saddle, and the two cantered off companionably down the gravel.
Well, thought Cord, who would have guessed that so soon after his flight into obscurity, he’d find himself on an outing with a beautiful woman? Yes, indeed, there was much to be said for a
Chapter Five
The next day dawned fine, and Gillian woke with an undefined sense of anticipation. It was not until she had risen to throw back the window hangings that she remembered yesterday’s encounter with the Earl of Cordray. The recollection, along with the brilliance of the morning sun, flooded her mind, bringing with it the reminder that she was to go riding with him this afternoon. To her annoyance, her pulse quickened.
She breakfasted hastily and returned to her bedchamber for a ruthless surveillance of her person in the looking glass. She supposed a certain maidenly fluttering was not to be wondered at, for it had been a very long time since she’d spent any length of time alone in a man’s company. And there seemed little doubt that this man was a cut above the others of her acquaintance. However, that was no reason for her to spend the day dreaming through her busy routine. She was even more annoyed with herself when, after luncheon with her aunt and uncle, she spent an hour dressing in her most becoming habit, twisting this way and that before her mirror, and teasing at one curl until it lay just there between the rakishly tilted hat brim and her left eyebrow.
She was ready and waiting long before the designated hour of his lordship’s arrival, but, naturally, when he was announced, she let ten minutes pass before she made her way down the stairs to the front parlor.
She entered the room to find the earl pacing before the hearth. Goodness, she thought, startled. Lord Cordray seemed to fill the room with his presence. He was not overly large, but there was that about him that commanded attention and shrank his surroundings to insignificance. He moved as though he were constructed of Toledo steel. When he turned to greet her, an internal light seemed to spring to life behind his emerald eyes and she found the effect extremely unsettling.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she replied, aware of the slight breathlessness in her voice. “I’m sorry my aunt and uncle are not on hand to greet you, but they usually nap after luncheon.”
The earl moved to take her hand, holding it just a fraction of a second longer than might have been considered proper. “Perhaps I shall see them when we return.” Lord Cordray bent to retrieve the riding crop he had laid along the back of a settee. “I need not ask,” he continued, smiling, “if you are ready for our outing. Your habit, if I may say so, is exceptionally becoming. That color suits you.”
Since this was precisely the reason Gillian had chosen the ensemble of a deep cherry that brought out the tint in her cheeks and lent a richness to her brown locks, there was no reason why she should feel a tide of heat rise to her cheeks. Indeed, she was surprised to note that the earl himself looked slightly taken aback at his own words.
Gillian managed a simple “Thank you, my lord” before turning to lead the earl from the house. Falstaff, in the care of Simms’s minion, awaited her just outside the front door. He greeted his mistress with courteous enthusiasm.
“He looks as though he’s trying to make amends for his disgraceful behavior yesterday,” remarked Lord Cordray.
“I fear he’s merely trying to cozzen me into giving him the sugar lump he knows I have tucked in my pocket,” Gillian replied with a laugh. “Here you are then, you shameless rascal.”
The earl moved forward, precipitating the groom, to toss Gillian into the saddle, and the two cantered off companionably down the gravel.
Well, thought Cord, who would have guessed that so soon after his flight into obscurity, he’d find himself on an outing with a beautiful woman? Yes, indeed, there was much to be said for a
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