The Bewitching Hour

The Bewitching Hour by Diana Douglas

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Authors: Diana Douglas
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scream,” she threatened.
      He grinned. “Go ahead. It would stir up a great deal excitement.”
      A sound of exasperation escaped her lips. “This is ridiculous.”
      He broadened his grin. “I can be very determined, Miss Hawthorn. If you decide to leave without me, I’ll only follow you.”
      She didn't know what to make of him. What sort of game was he playing? “Must you always have your way?”
      He paused a moment before answering. “When it’s important.”
      Deciding that it would be preferable to allow him to escort her home than continue to argue the matter, she said, “Very well. I’ll fetch my maid, but I warn you, you'll find me a poor conversationalist and even worse company.”
      He smiled. "I'll take my chances, Miss Hawthorne." He stepped aside and gracefully motioned for her to pass by him. She quickly made her way to the back. With her maid trailing closely behind her, she returned a few minutes later wearing a chip bonnet tied with blue satin ribbons.
      His gaze moved over her. “You have exquisite taste in hats, Miss Hawthorn.”
      Her face and chest warmed at this scrutiny. Why did he make her so uncomfortable? It wasn't as if he were the first man to take note of her. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making further comment about my personal appearance.”
      He grinned at her. “Must I?”
      “Yes, you must. And please remember that Sally will be right behind us,” she said. “And, it will be a very short walk.”
      Pulling a long face, he said, “I’m crushed. You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
      “Should I?”
      “Not for a moment.”
      “My lord!” The breathless voice of the shop girl reached them. “Where should I send the hat that you purchased?”
      He rubbed his hand across his chin and appeared to give it some thought. “Mmm. After careful consideration I believe you should burn it.”
      Priscilla brought her hand to her mouth to cover an inelegant snort of laughter.
      The girl's eyes had gone wide. “Burn it?”
      “Yes, please. As quickly as possible before anyone else has the misfortune to lay eyes on it.”
      “Yes, my lord.”
      Stratton settled Priscilla’s hand on his arm and by the time they had taken a few steps, the sound of laughter rang out behind them. “Silly woman,” he whispered as he swept her out the door. “One would think I was the first customer to request that she burn a hat.”
      “I believe she finds you entertaining, though I can’t imagine why.”
      He looked quite astonished. “You don’t find me entertaining?”
      She did, but rather than admit it, gave him a sour look and said, “I find you forward and ill-mannered and I can’t imagine why I’ve allowed you to see me home.”
      He chuckled. “I’m most grateful for your lapse in judgment. I pray that it continues. I do enjoy your biting wit.”
      A retort formed on her tongue, but she quickly thought the better of it. They'd only taken a few steps before they were forced to make their nods to a group of passing pedestrians. The cobblestone street was rapidly filling up with carts and carriages and she knew it was likely they would be noticed by someone of their acquaintance. The thought that they might be linked together was disconcerting.
      "A lovely day, don't you think?" he said. "London has so few of them. I much prefer the country."
      Curious, she forgot her decision not to encourage conversation. "Why did you return?"
      "Familial duty. My parents are in France and I returned to escort my sister for the season. She's coming out this year and I couldn't allow her to face the season with only Aunt Mirabella to look after her. That would have been heartless."
      He sounded genuinely fond of his sister. Perhaps she had

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