Country Flirt Read Free

the temples.
    “Will Lord Monteith be joining us?” the vicar asked, peering over his spectacles. “I saw him driving through town late this afternoon.”
    “Monty will be down shortly,” his mother said.
    Samantha looked down and straightened her gown, for she didn’t want anyone to notice that she was smiling. Before long, Lord Monteith appeared at the doorway of the saloon. He surveyed the dull little country party a moment before strolling in to welcome the guests individually, with a smile that was as charming as it was insincere. While he surveyed, Samantha stole a look at him.
    It was not Lord Monteith’s appearance that had captured her interest. Though tall and elegant, his build was no better than Mr. Sutton’s. As he advanced into the room, she noticed that his walk was exceedingly graceful. Everything about him was smooth. There was some poetry in his fluid movements and the seemingly effortless perfection of his toilette. His black evening jacket sat like a second skin on his shoulders, and the intricately arranged cravat was impeccable. Monteith didn’t favor the raffish air of the dandy, nor the sporting style of the Corinthian. His simple elegance owed more to the influence of Beau Brummell, and the efforts of a top-notch valet who accompanied him on any overnight trip.
    His straw-colored hair was as fine as silk, and as carefully brushed in place as any lady’s. Unlike the ladies’ hair, his had no curl whatsoever. Samantha watched obliquely as he bowed to the rest of the company before coming to her. Her being last was in no way a slight. As the youngest, and with no title to increase her importance, she was naturally last in precedence. When Lord Monteith bowed and smiled, she decided that she didn’t really like him at all. He merely fascinated her because he was different from the local gentlemen.
    His smile was polite, no more. There was no hidden love or admiration glowing in his dark blue eyes. His nose was too thin, and his lips wore a permanent expression bordering on disdain. They wore it now as he welcomed her. He seemed to be taking particular note of her freckles, and his speech soon confirmed it.
    “You’ve been out doing battle with the aphids and black rot, I see. You should get yourself a sunbonnet, Sam.”
    She was mistaken in thinking this denoted disapproval. Monteith was nearly as fond of ladies as his infamous uncle, Lord Howard. He had arranged his circuit of welcome to finish at Samantha’s side, that he might flirt with her till dinner was served. That light dusting of freckles put the finishing touch on Sam —what was a country girl without a touch of rusticity? Miss Bright, his sharp eye observed, had other touches of the country as well. Those blue bows, for example, would set a city drawing room to smirking, but they suited Samantha’s simple gown admirably.
    Samantha ignored his comment. “Well, Monty, I hear you have actually seen Lord Howard. What is he like, and why isn’t he here?”
    He lifted a well-shaped finger and wagged it playfully. “No, no! First you must tell me how happy you are to see me again. My pride demands it.”
    “Naturally we are all aux anges at the condescension of your sojourn.”
    “Say, rather, ‘visit.’ ‘Sojourn’ implies an indefinite stay. I shall definitely be removing aussit ô t que possible, As soon as Uncle Howard deigns to appear, that is to say. One must not be behindhand in welcoming the family ancients.”
    “One might even go so far as to stay a few days.”
    “That is overdoing it, surely. I want to make him feel welcome, not honored. And by the by, you haven’t asked me to take a seat.”
    “Take all you want. They’re yours.”
    “Why do I feel you’re doing me a favor, I wonder?” he asked, and drew a petit-point chair close to hers.
    “Your London flirts are more effusive, I assume?”
    “Effusive suggests to me an overflowing, almost a gushing. Your welcome is mean-spirited at best. And now that