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Authors: Nadine Miller
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countryside of the Cotswolds. He educated me himself.”
Jared thought quickly. “And the local vicar saw to my education,” he said, inventing the story as he spoke. “The poor fellow hoped I would someday succeed him, despite my unfortunate lineage. But I, of course, was much too wicked and mysterious to consider such a vocation.”
“Now you are laughing at me, sir.”
“Never, ma’ am. I laugh at myself and my pretentions.”
He watched her gaze drop to the signet ring adorning his left hand. “You wonder, no doubt, how someone of my lowly station should come by this expensive bauble.” Lifting his hand, he let the sun glint off the rich gold. “The truth is, I took it off the finger of a dead man.”
Emily ‘s eyes widened; her cheeks paled. “You are even more nefarious than I had imagined,” she gasped. “I cannot comprehend why I waste my time with you.”
“Probably for the same reason I go to such lengths to waste time with you,” he said, following close behind her. “Curiosity about a creature so different from myself. “
She urged the gray forward into a canter. “Well my curiosity is well and truly satisfied now.”
” Is it? Mine is barely whetted.” He slowed his mount and watched her take the little mare into a gallop, carrying her away from him. “Until tomorrow, Emily,” he shouted. “I shall wait for you by the oak tree. Perhaps I may even carve your initials in the trunk.”
“You shall wait in vain, sir,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Oh I don’t think so.” He laughed to himself. “Somehow I don’t think so, Emily.” But by then she was too far away to hear him.
Dining alfresco was nothing new to Emily; picnicking had been her mother’s favorite summer pastime. Even her reclusive father had found enjoyment in it since he could relax beneath a shady tree with one of his precious books after the meal. But the ostentatious luncheon the Duke of Montford hosted bore little resemblance to the simple basket of chicken, lemonade and pastries Emily had carried across an open meadow to her favorite picnic spot.
The richly gowned ladies, complete with ornate fans and lacy parasols, traveled in open carriages to the chosen spot beside one of Brynhaven’s lakes, where a massive table, complete with the finest linen, crystal, silver, and china had already been set up.
The gentlemen of the party rode escort on their blooded mounts, and behind them came wagons carrying covered serving platters of food and flagons of champagne, as well as three carriages conveying Pettigrew, the duke’s butler, and twelve liveried footmen to serve the table.
Emily had been looking forward to a respite from the stifling formality of the duke’s household and the sight of this opulence sent her spirits sinking to a new low. She turned to whisper as much to Lucinda but found her cousin gazing raptly at the Earl of Chillingham, who rode beside the Hargrave ladies’ carriage. Lady Hargrave, who had apparently just noticed her daughter’s overt flirtation with the earl, frowned disapprovingly, but to no avail. Lucinda was obviously besotted and had eyes for no one but the gauche young nobleman. Emily cringed, certain she would somehow be found to blame for her charge’s defection.
Luckily, at that moment the duke diverted the countess’s attention. Riding up beside his doltish heir, he tipped his hat, made a polite inquiry as to the ladies’ comfort, then spurred his mount ahead to lead the procession to its destination.
Dressed in biscuit-colored buckskin trousers and a tawny velvet riding jacket the exact color of his gleaming chestnut stallion, he was the epitome of sartorial splendor. Sighing audibly, Lady Hargrave made a remark to that effect, but Emily couldn’t help but compare him to his baseborn half brother—and she found the chilly duke sadly colorless beside that charming rogue.
“Take this silly chit for a stroll until luncheon is served,” Lady Hargrave
Jared thought quickly. “And the local vicar saw to my education,” he said, inventing the story as he spoke. “The poor fellow hoped I would someday succeed him, despite my unfortunate lineage. But I, of course, was much too wicked and mysterious to consider such a vocation.”
“Now you are laughing at me, sir.”
“Never, ma’ am. I laugh at myself and my pretentions.”
He watched her gaze drop to the signet ring adorning his left hand. “You wonder, no doubt, how someone of my lowly station should come by this expensive bauble.” Lifting his hand, he let the sun glint off the rich gold. “The truth is, I took it off the finger of a dead man.”
Emily ‘s eyes widened; her cheeks paled. “You are even more nefarious than I had imagined,” she gasped. “I cannot comprehend why I waste my time with you.”
“Probably for the same reason I go to such lengths to waste time with you,” he said, following close behind her. “Curiosity about a creature so different from myself. “
She urged the gray forward into a canter. “Well my curiosity is well and truly satisfied now.”
” Is it? Mine is barely whetted.” He slowed his mount and watched her take the little mare into a gallop, carrying her away from him. “Until tomorrow, Emily,” he shouted. “I shall wait for you by the oak tree. Perhaps I may even carve your initials in the trunk.”
“You shall wait in vain, sir,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Oh I don’t think so.” He laughed to himself. “Somehow I don’t think so, Emily.” But by then she was too far away to hear him.
Dining alfresco was nothing new to Emily; picnicking had been her mother’s favorite summer pastime. Even her reclusive father had found enjoyment in it since he could relax beneath a shady tree with one of his precious books after the meal. But the ostentatious luncheon the Duke of Montford hosted bore little resemblance to the simple basket of chicken, lemonade and pastries Emily had carried across an open meadow to her favorite picnic spot.
The richly gowned ladies, complete with ornate fans and lacy parasols, traveled in open carriages to the chosen spot beside one of Brynhaven’s lakes, where a massive table, complete with the finest linen, crystal, silver, and china had already been set up.
The gentlemen of the party rode escort on their blooded mounts, and behind them came wagons carrying covered serving platters of food and flagons of champagne, as well as three carriages conveying Pettigrew, the duke’s butler, and twelve liveried footmen to serve the table.
Emily had been looking forward to a respite from the stifling formality of the duke’s household and the sight of this opulence sent her spirits sinking to a new low. She turned to whisper as much to Lucinda but found her cousin gazing raptly at the Earl of Chillingham, who rode beside the Hargrave ladies’ carriage. Lady Hargrave, who had apparently just noticed her daughter’s overt flirtation with the earl, frowned disapprovingly, but to no avail. Lucinda was obviously besotted and had eyes for no one but the gauche young nobleman. Emily cringed, certain she would somehow be found to blame for her charge’s defection.
Luckily, at that moment the duke diverted the countess’s attention. Riding up beside his doltish heir, he tipped his hat, made a polite inquiry as to the ladies’ comfort, then spurred his mount ahead to lead the procession to its destination.
Dressed in biscuit-colored buckskin trousers and a tawny velvet riding jacket the exact color of his gleaming chestnut stallion, he was the epitome of sartorial splendor. Sighing audibly, Lady Hargrave made a remark to that effect, but Emily couldn’t help but compare him to his baseborn half brother—and she found the chilly duke sadly colorless beside that charming rogue.
“Take this silly chit for a stroll until luncheon is served,” Lady Hargrave
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