Indiscreet by Mary Balogh

heavy breathing that he would be most grateful to be let outside within the next half hour or so. “Am I being a dreadful slugabed this morning?” She swung her legs determinedly over the side of the bed and pulled on her warm dressing gown. “Come along, then.”
    He trotted out of the bedchamber ahead of her and bobbed down the steep stairs and along the passageway to the back door.
    She spoke to his waving tail. “It is not fair, you know,” she said. “And I have not even the glimmering of a headache to keep me home with you. Do you suppose I could pretend to believe that there will be no lessons today, Toby, because the children’s mama and papa have so recently returned home?”
    Toby did not answer but trotted smartly through the door when she opened it for him.
    And then she felt angry. It
was
a beautiful day. The sky was blue with hardly a cloud visible. She could hear the water gurgling over the stones at the bottom of the garden. There was a freshness in the air that made her shiver for a moment, though she did not close the door. By the afternoon, if there was no drastic change, it would probably be warm. It was the sort of day on which she would normally go for a long walk with Toby.
    And she would go too if she still felt like doing so after returning from Bodley House. She would not be able to go out at all if she made illness an excuse for not going this morning.
    Why should she not go? Just because she might accidentally run into Viscount Rawleigh? Why should she avoid him? She had done no wrong unless letting him inside her house last evening had been wrong. But his visit had taken her so much by surprise that she had not even thought of refusing his entrance.
    She was not going to avoid him. Or hang her head if she saw him again. Or blush or stammer or otherwise give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had discomposed her.
    She was still angry—very angry—that the female state made one so weak, gave one such little freedom. She was angry that the world of men had so little use in it for women except in onecapacity. She was angry that it was a man’s world she lived in. For a few moments, until Toby came trotting back into the house and she closed the door, she felt the old raw and empty feeling of helplessness. But she was not going to feed such negative emotions. She had fought too hard for her peace to have it shattered by a heartless, arrogant rake who believed that because she had smiled at him twice she would smile a third time as he climbed into her bed to take his pleasure of her.
    â€œToby,” she said as she set about building a fire in the kitchen so that she could boil the kettle for her morning tea, “I should have got myself a female dog. Perhaps a female would not assume that the most comfortable chair in the house must have been designed for her exclusive use. How many times have I told you that you may
not
jump onto my rocker?”
    Toby, wriggling into a position of comfort on the embroidered cushion that covered the seat of the rocker, panted at her and thumped his tail, pleased at the attention he was getting. He stayed where he was.
    She was going to walk to Bodley House after breakfast to give the children their lessons, just as she always did, she decided. And this afternoon she would take Toby for a long walk. She would behave just as she would if there were no guests at the house. She was
not
going to start hiding or creeping about in fear that she might come face-to-face with him around every corner.
    â€œAnd that, Toby,” she said firmly, brushing coal dust off her hands as the fire caught, “is that.”
    Toby thumped his tail agreeably.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    VISCOUNT Rawleigh had been out riding with Mr. and Mrs. Adams, Sir Clayton and Lady Baird, Lord Pelham, Miss Veronica Lipton, and Miss Ellen Hudson. They had taken the route north over rolling hills, from which they were able to