No Man's Mistress
“At least, she was folding up a letter, probably the one that had been on the library desk earlier. She was sitting on the grassy bank well north of the house, between the path and the river, her light muslin dress spread about her, her hair in its neat braided coronet. She was surrounded by daisies and buttercups and clover. She looked the perfect picture of beauty and innocence, at one with her surroundings.
Ferdinand felt wretched. He had heard that the late Earl of Bamber was a decent sort, though he had not known him personally. But obviously the man had been as much of a loose screw as his son.
She did not look up as he approached, though she surely must have heard him. She was slipping her letter into her pocket. Did she imagine he was going to snatch it away from her to read himself? His annoyance returned.
“Hiding from me, Miss Thornhill?”
She turned her head to look up at him. “With not a single tree to duck behind for cover?” she said. “If I chose to hide from you, my lord, ...you would not find me.”MoreLess
Ferdinand felt wretched. He had heard that the late Earl of Bamber was a decent sort, though he had not known him personally. But obviously the man had been as much of a loose screw as his son.
She did not look up as he approached, though she surely must have heard him. She was slipping her letter into her pocket. Did she imagine he was going to snatch it away from her to read himself? His annoyance returned.
“Hiding from me, Miss Thornhill?”
She turned her head to look up at him. “With not a single tree to duck behind for cover?” she said. “If I chose to hide from you, my lord, ...you would not find me.”MoreLess
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