Harriet refused to move. “Are you always so rude?” she asked, jabbing her finger in his chest.
He reared back. “Don’t touch me!”
“Why? Do you have a deadly disease? All I see is a scar on your face. Is it from the war?”
Harriet saw his eyes widen before his scowl returned. “Are you always so forward?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so. My mother despairs of it and thinks I need to curtail my wild ways, but you didn’t answer my question. Why are you so grumpy? You nearly trampled me. Aren’t you the least bit sorry?”
He took a deep breath. “I have no intention of continuing this discussion. Now leave my property at once and do not return,” he said, whistling for his horse, who trotted back to his side. He vaulted into the saddle and was gone before Harriet could speak another word.
“Well, I’ve never met such a rude man in my life,” she said with a huff. As she walked back to her grandmother’s manor, she found herself thinking about the man who’d so rudely interrupted her enjoyment of the meadow.
Who was he?
And why did he have to look so stunning? He’d been magnificent, with his emerald eyes blazing as he berated her with those full, kissable lips.
Kissable lips?
What was the matter with her?
She had no desire to kiss anyone and certainly not to marry and end up being subservient to a husband. That wasn’t what she wanted in life. Perhaps that thought had invaded her mind because she’d never witnessed a gentleman lose his temper so spectacularly before, or maybe it was the man himself. Though half his face sported a wicked-looking scar, the other half was the epitome of masculine beauty. She’d never seen a moreattractive man. Having never been kissed before, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against her own.
It was puzzling. These feelings were a mystery to her, and she chose to ignore them for the moment, but she hoped her grandmother might at least know who the gentleman was. At least she’d be able to put a name to that face.
By the time she made it back to the manor, her grandmother was in the parlor enjoying a cup of tea. She looked up when Harriet walked through the French doors.
“There you are, my dear. Did you enjoy your walk?” Marian asked, pouring a cup of tea for her.
Harriet kissed her grandmother’s cheek and took the cup before settling on the other sofa. “I did until I was most rudely interrupted.”
“Whatever do you mean? What happened?” Marian asked, concern etched on her face.
“A gentleman on a black stallion came barreling across the meadow and nearly trampled me.”
Marian’s hand flew to her mouth. “My dear, that’s terrible. Were you frightened?”
Harriet nodded. “A little, Gran. He stopped in time, but then he had the nerve to berate me for being on his property.”
“Ahhh…you must have encountered the infamous Earl of Hartley.”
“The Earl of Hartley? Hmmm…he didn’t act like an earl. I have to say, he didn’t act like a gentleman at all.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s how he earned the moniker the Beast of Bath.”
“The Beast of Bath?” George asked as he walked into the parlor.
“Your friend Hartley,” Marian said.
“Oh right. He mentioned the moniker when Evans and I visited him recently. I’m not surprised, although I think it’sunfair to name him thus because he chooses not to participate in Society.”
“He nearly trampled me,” Harriet said.
George whipped around to face her. “What?”
Eleanor had just entered the parlor and rushed to her daughter. “Darling, I heard you say you were nearly trampled. What happened?” she asked, grasping Harriet’s hand.
“Mama, I’m fine. I was telling Gran and Lord Spenser of my encounter with the Earl of Hartley. I was in the meadow, and the aroma of the wildflowers was intoxicating. I had lain down in a patch to gaze at the sky when the earl came upon me. He was galloping across the field on his black stallion. I heard the ground rumbling and jumped up. Unfortunately, that startled the horse, but the man was an expert in handling the stallion and eventually brought him back under control.”
