shaped appropriately enough like a stag. The girls heard instead faint strains of harpsichord music from the back of the house. Even though David Morris did not play, there was a music room there, with instruments and music stands and French windows giving onto the garden.
Amelia’s pretty mouth was set rather oddly as she grasped her sister by the hand and, before she should lose her nerve, swept around the house to the gardens. Did Captain Morris have a musical visitor and was she young and pretty? She meant to take just a peek, for she knew the player’s back would of necessity be to her, and her little boots were silent on the soft grass, but as she and Annie came up to the French window, the music stopped and the player swung around on his stool to face them.
“Miss Amelia Hunter, I presume? An unexpected pleasure! And who is this charming young lady?”
“My name is Annabella Hunter, sir. Who are you?”
“A visitor. Won’t you come in for some refreshment? Captain Morris will return very shortly.”
Amelia blushed under the bland emerald gaze and the charm with which he indicated the waiting chairs, but she stepped into the room.
“You ought to tell us your name,” Annie persisted, also a little red-faced. “It’s not polite otherwise.”
“Very well,” the handsome gentleman said, sweeping them both a bow. “I am neatly trapped. Charles de Dagonet, at your service!”
Amelia went white.
Annie’s eyes became instantly as round as carriage wheels. “Devil Dagonet!”
The door to the room opened.
“Mr. de Dagonet is my guest, Miss Annabella,” Captain Morris said, smiling. “That’s not a very courteous way to address him, is it?”
“I’ve been discovered, as you see, Morris, like Moses in the bulrushes. But now you don’t need to keep my scandalous presence hidden from your affianced bride any longer. David’s been very uncomfortable about not telling you, Miss Hunter, but the blame is entirely mine. I would have run him through with my sword had he breathed a word.”
“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Annie said. “Did you really jump your horse through the lych-gate?”
Dagonet laughed. “Come into the garden, Miss Annabella, and I’ll tell you. Captain Morris wishes to speak to your sister in private.”
Annie went with him willingly enough and sat down on a garden bench opposite the object of her curiosity, who relaxed against the convenient trunk of a tree. She could see from where she was sitting that Amy and the captain were deep in conversation.
“Well?” she said, arranging her short skirts. “I don’t believe you could have done it. I’ve looked every time we went through it to church and the roof is too low. You could jump a horse over the little gate and the bench where they set down the coffins, between the pillar things, but the rider would bang his head on the beams under the thatch and come off.”
“That’s what my cousin thought when he wagered me that it couldn’t be done.”
“Then how did you win?”
It was a pity that no one but Annabella could see his face just then. The expression was entirely without sarcasm, relaxed and open with a warmth of humor in the green eyes.
“I hung from the side of my horse’s saddle like a savage. He cleared the gate with an inch to spare, and his ears brushed the fringe of the straw. It took a very exact approach, but then he was a very good horse. My grandfather had given him to me. Yet it was a stupid thing to do and I was lucky not to get killed.”
Annie’s face lit like the sun. “I wish I could have seen it! What did you win from the wager?”
“A promise from George; he’s Sir George Montagu now, of course. Obviously, I can’t tell you what it was.”
“Why not?”
“A matter of honor between gentlemen.”
“I bet he didn’t even keep the promise!”
Dagonet laughed. “You’re as sharp as you’re pretty, Miss Annie.”
“I’m not pretty.”
“Yes, you are. You’ll grow up to
Amelia’s pretty mouth was set rather oddly as she grasped her sister by the hand and, before she should lose her nerve, swept around the house to the gardens. Did Captain Morris have a musical visitor and was she young and pretty? She meant to take just a peek, for she knew the player’s back would of necessity be to her, and her little boots were silent on the soft grass, but as she and Annie came up to the French window, the music stopped and the player swung around on his stool to face them.
“Miss Amelia Hunter, I presume? An unexpected pleasure! And who is this charming young lady?”
“My name is Annabella Hunter, sir. Who are you?”
“A visitor. Won’t you come in for some refreshment? Captain Morris will return very shortly.”
Amelia blushed under the bland emerald gaze and the charm with which he indicated the waiting chairs, but she stepped into the room.
“You ought to tell us your name,” Annie persisted, also a little red-faced. “It’s not polite otherwise.”
“Very well,” the handsome gentleman said, sweeping them both a bow. “I am neatly trapped. Charles de Dagonet, at your service!”
Amelia went white.
Annie’s eyes became instantly as round as carriage wheels. “Devil Dagonet!”
The door to the room opened.
“Mr. de Dagonet is my guest, Miss Annabella,” Captain Morris said, smiling. “That’s not a very courteous way to address him, is it?”
“I’ve been discovered, as you see, Morris, like Moses in the bulrushes. But now you don’t need to keep my scandalous presence hidden from your affianced bride any longer. David’s been very uncomfortable about not telling you, Miss Hunter, but the blame is entirely mine. I would have run him through with my sword had he breathed a word.”
“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Annie said. “Did you really jump your horse through the lych-gate?”
Dagonet laughed. “Come into the garden, Miss Annabella, and I’ll tell you. Captain Morris wishes to speak to your sister in private.”
Annie went with him willingly enough and sat down on a garden bench opposite the object of her curiosity, who relaxed against the convenient trunk of a tree. She could see from where she was sitting that Amy and the captain were deep in conversation.
“Well?” she said, arranging her short skirts. “I don’t believe you could have done it. I’ve looked every time we went through it to church and the roof is too low. You could jump a horse over the little gate and the bench where they set down the coffins, between the pillar things, but the rider would bang his head on the beams under the thatch and come off.”
“That’s what my cousin thought when he wagered me that it couldn’t be done.”
“Then how did you win?”
It was a pity that no one but Annabella could see his face just then. The expression was entirely without sarcasm, relaxed and open with a warmth of humor in the green eyes.
“I hung from the side of my horse’s saddle like a savage. He cleared the gate with an inch to spare, and his ears brushed the fringe of the straw. It took a very exact approach, but then he was a very good horse. My grandfather had given him to me. Yet it was a stupid thing to do and I was lucky not to get killed.”
Annie’s face lit like the sun. “I wish I could have seen it! What did you win from the wager?”
“A promise from George; he’s Sir George Montagu now, of course. Obviously, I can’t tell you what it was.”
“Why not?”
“A matter of honor between gentlemen.”
“I bet he didn’t even keep the promise!”
Dagonet laughed. “You’re as sharp as you’re pretty, Miss Annie.”
“I’m not pretty.”
“Yes, you are. You’ll grow up to
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