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Authors: Karen Harbaugh
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Club?" Cassandra asked after he had missed the cart.
" Yes."
" Are only the best carriage drivers allowed in it?"
Lord Blytheland glanced down at her and saw she had pulled her shawl close to her chin. "Yes," he said again and breathed a sigh of relief.
She gave him a quizzical smile. "I would not have known it just now."
" I am, however," he said stiffly.
" Oh, you need not poker up, my lord! I can see you are quite a good whip." Cassandra smiled kindly at him. "I was only teasing you."
" Really." He stared straight ahead at the traffic, concentrating on squeezing his phaeton between a curricle and a barouche. A good whip. He was, actually, known as one of the best. Irritation twisted within him, and then he felt relieved. There, that was another flaw in Miss Hathaway. She was ignorant of society ways, and therefore not at all the sort of woman he admired. She had no finesse whatsoever. Oddly, a sinking feeling went through him at the thought.
" Ah, I see!" Miss Hathaway's voice was contrite. "You are offended, are you not? I am sorry, but I did not realize you could not take a joke," she said.
Blytheland stared at her, but she had turned away and her bonnet obscured her face. How did she do it? She apologized, apparently sincere, but in the same breath strongly implied she found him humorless.
"Miss Hathaway, I can indeed take a joke."
" Really."
He shot her a keen glance and glimpsed her smile and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes before she turned away again. He burst out laughing. "You are a minx, Miss Hathaway! How is it that you have escaped strangulation at the hands of your siblings?"
" Oh, we have a rule at home, my lord, that speaking the truth does not constitute grounds for execution." This time she smiled widely.
Blytheland laughed again and caught up her hand and kissed it. "Why is it that I have not met you
? " Miss Hathaway blushed. "Well, I—This is my first Season, my lord."
He watched how the blush fired her cheeks and then descended to her neck—and then a shout caught his attention. He quickly reined in his horses before he touched wheels with another carriage, and was glad he could concentrate on something that needed his immediate attention. He grimaced. Miss Hathaway was right; no one could tell by his driving today that he belonged to the Four-in-Hand Club.
He glanced at her still-pink face and knew he had gone too far—he had kissed her hand again, perhaps raising her expectations. Or did she have expectations? Certainly, she seemed not to employ any of the tricks young ladies did when trying to attract a man. He took in a deep breath and let it out again.
" You astonish me," he said, making his voice more cool than before. "Since we are trading frank words, 1 would guess you to be at least one-and-twenty."
" I am three-and-twenty and more," Cassandra said primly. "Practically on the shelf, or so my mother says." "And your parents did not want you to leave their home so early?"
" No . . ." For one moment she hesitated, and then smiled at him. "I did not want to leave at first. My life has always been comfortable and useful at home; why should I wish to change it? Why should anyone?"
Blytheland felt much in charity with this attitude, and nodded. He, too, had a pleasant life now, and did as he wished; why should he want to cha nge? But she had hesitated . . . .
" But what of marriage and children?" he asked. That was not an unusual question to ask, surely, especially since she had revealed a reluctance to change her life.
Cassandra blushed again, but looked at him. "I think I could be just as happy caring for my parents in their old age, if I cannot find love as they have. Then, too, I can easily occupy myself in such pursuits as my—in my charitable pursuits."
Blytheland gazed at Miss Hathaway for a moment and smiled slightly. He was certain she had just caught herself before blurting something she shouldn 't. Should he try to find out what had changed her mind? A brief,
" Yes."
" Are only the best carriage drivers allowed in it?"
Lord Blytheland glanced down at her and saw she had pulled her shawl close to her chin. "Yes," he said again and breathed a sigh of relief.
She gave him a quizzical smile. "I would not have known it just now."
" I am, however," he said stiffly.
" Oh, you need not poker up, my lord! I can see you are quite a good whip." Cassandra smiled kindly at him. "I was only teasing you."
" Really." He stared straight ahead at the traffic, concentrating on squeezing his phaeton between a curricle and a barouche. A good whip. He was, actually, known as one of the best. Irritation twisted within him, and then he felt relieved. There, that was another flaw in Miss Hathaway. She was ignorant of society ways, and therefore not at all the sort of woman he admired. She had no finesse whatsoever. Oddly, a sinking feeling went through him at the thought.
" Ah, I see!" Miss Hathaway's voice was contrite. "You are offended, are you not? I am sorry, but I did not realize you could not take a joke," she said.
Blytheland stared at her, but she had turned away and her bonnet obscured her face. How did she do it? She apologized, apparently sincere, but in the same breath strongly implied she found him humorless.
"Miss Hathaway, I can indeed take a joke."
" Really."
He shot her a keen glance and glimpsed her smile and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes before she turned away again. He burst out laughing. "You are a minx, Miss Hathaway! How is it that you have escaped strangulation at the hands of your siblings?"
" Oh, we have a rule at home, my lord, that speaking the truth does not constitute grounds for execution." This time she smiled widely.
Blytheland laughed again and caught up her hand and kissed it. "Why is it that I have not met you
? " Miss Hathaway blushed. "Well, I—This is my first Season, my lord."
He watched how the blush fired her cheeks and then descended to her neck—and then a shout caught his attention. He quickly reined in his horses before he touched wheels with another carriage, and was glad he could concentrate on something that needed his immediate attention. He grimaced. Miss Hathaway was right; no one could tell by his driving today that he belonged to the Four-in-Hand Club.
He glanced at her still-pink face and knew he had gone too far—he had kissed her hand again, perhaps raising her expectations. Or did she have expectations? Certainly, she seemed not to employ any of the tricks young ladies did when trying to attract a man. He took in a deep breath and let it out again.
" You astonish me," he said, making his voice more cool than before. "Since we are trading frank words, 1 would guess you to be at least one-and-twenty."
" I am three-and-twenty and more," Cassandra said primly. "Practically on the shelf, or so my mother says." "And your parents did not want you to leave their home so early?"
" No . . ." For one moment she hesitated, and then smiled at him. "I did not want to leave at first. My life has always been comfortable and useful at home; why should I wish to change it? Why should anyone?"
Blytheland felt much in charity with this attitude, and nodded. He, too, had a pleasant life now, and did as he wished; why should he want to cha nge? But she had hesitated . . . .
" But what of marriage and children?" he asked. That was not an unusual question to ask, surely, especially since she had revealed a reluctance to change her life.
Cassandra blushed again, but looked at him. "I think I could be just as happy caring for my parents in their old age, if I cannot find love as they have. Then, too, I can easily occupy myself in such pursuits as my—in my charitable pursuits."
Blytheland gazed at Miss Hathaway for a moment and smiled slightly. He was certain she had just caught herself before blurting something she shouldn 't. Should he try to find out what had changed her mind? A brief,
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