Page 37 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

‘Do you?’

Her eyes widened and her lovely lips parted in surprise. He had the urge to kiss those lips and see if they were as soft as they looked, and tasted as sweet. He forced himself to focus on her gaze, not on that luscious mouth, and nearly got distracted by her eyebrows. He wanted to kiss those too. ‘I do.’

‘I prefer to choose my own mount.’

Astonished, he laughed. ‘Can you even ride?’ He’d been wondering if he needed to provide a riding master along with the horse.

Her bosom rose and fell as she breathed deeply. ‘You know nothing about me, do you? Of course I can ride. I also paint, speak French and can embroider.’

Delighted, he waited for her to finish. Not the least because he was enjoying how magnificent she looked when angry. He wondered how she would look in the heat of passion.

Then, irritated at his wayward thoughts, he forced himself to glare at her. ‘Moonlight, the horse I have chosen, is very well-mannered and a perfect lady’s mount.’

‘A slug, in other words.’

He kept his voice calm. ‘Try him. If you do not like him, we can discuss finding an animal you do like.’

Now there was a martial light in her eyes, as if she was ready to do battle. Much better than the diffident look on her face when she’d first arrived at his door.

She nodded. ‘Very well. And the carriage?’

He thought for a moment. He had put in train the ordering of a carriage—a very smart phaeton. He’d sent his head groom to see what was for sale and he’d reported back he’d found the perfect equipage, but perhaps in this case he should have consulted her about her wishes.

‘Would you like to accompany me to the carriage works and we can see what they have available?’

‘Do you intend that I should choose, rather than your mother?’

He frowned. ‘In the matter of carriages, you would do better to be guided by me.’

Her expression said she would prefer to be guided by the man in the moon. Well, they would see about that. ‘We can go tomorrow, if you like. Today I have an appointment at my club.’

And if he happened to pass by the carriage works on the way to his club, and asked them to offer several particular choices to his lady, it might be a good thing.

What on earth did one wear to visit a carriage works?

She eyed her new lady’s maid delivering her morning chocolate. Cole, a rather bony, lanky young woman, whose dark hair and eyes made her look slightly foreign, had been discovered by Mrs Spragg and highly recommended by her previous employer. She was surprisingly young, delightfully so. Much younger than all the other maids she had seen, and much less intimidating.

‘If your ladyship would care to sit up,’ Cole said in brisk tones, ‘I will arrange the pillows behind you, if you wish.’

Pillows with their cases embroidered with monograms of the dowager countess, Graydon’s mother. They made Florence feel uncomfortable.

Once she was settled with the tray on her lap, she broached her question. ‘Thank you. I am to view some carriages this morning with my husband at the carriage works. I was trying to decide which outfit would be most appropriate.’

Cole would think her hopelessly ignorant. Florence waited for the scornful glance but no; to her relief, Cole merely pursed her lips in thought.

‘A carriage you will drive yourself, my lady?’

Oh; she hadn’t thought about that. She’d only ever driven a pony cart. But she had seen other ladies driving in Hyde Park and very smart they looked too. She winced at the thought of making a cake of herself in front of all those very competent-looking females.

‘Likely not.’

Cole frowned. ‘If you plan to be climbing up and down to see what suits you, my lady, I would suggest a riding habit, hooked up for walking. It will give you a bit more freedom of movement.’

Less likely to show more of her legs than was decent too. She beamed at Cole. ‘Thank you. That is just what I will do. Could you look it out for me? I am to meet his lordship downstairs at eleven.’

‘I will fetch your breakfast tray right away, my lady.’

Cole bustled off. Florence sighed and leaned back. How life had changed. So many people at her beck and call, and yet somehow so little freedom. She sipped her hot chocolate. Perhaps she would feel more comfortable once she was back in Stoor in her own house, near those she knew and loved. Graydon would want to return there sooner or later, otherwise what would be the purpose of all those renovations? She would be more in control there, she hoped. Here, she felt like a fish out of water, and Graydon was so busy with business, Parliament and his club, she hardly ever saw him.