Country Flirt Read Free Page A

I have been made to feel de trop in my own saloon, you may inquire for the guest of honor.”
    “Thank you. I am dying to —”
    Monteith lifted his hand, palm down, to stop her. “My manners have already begun to fall off. Before we proceed to Lord Howard, I must compliment you on your appearance.” He regarded her closely, his eyes falling from her face to study her toilette. “Not the gown —that would be doing it too brown,” he said with a mischievous twinkle; then his eyes returned to her face. “Ah, I have it! You’re ageless, Sam. You always look the same.”
    “You make me sound like a mountain, or an octogenarian! If that is your notion of a compliment, I thank you for the intention.”
    “It was meant as one, I promise you.”
    “At my advanced years to ‘always look the same’ must be a great consolation. After going to the bother of wearing a strawberry mask for two mornings running and visiting the coiffeur last week, however, I rather expected some such inanity as looking ‘better than usual.’ “
    “We shall blame it on the provincial coiffeur. I stick by my original assessment —always the same, in both appearance and tartness of tongue.”
    Her lips quivered in amusement. “You’re still the same, too, Monteith.”
    He regarded her warily. “Thank you, I think. That will teach me to tell a lady the truth. I should have been prattling of ‘charming new hairdo’ and gown ‘in the highest kick of fashion,’ I daresay.”
    “No, no, such barefaced lies are unnecessary. Only a little ingenuity in coating the pill of truth is all I ask. We expect no less of the parish’s most eligible bachelor.”
    “What will you do for a compliment when I’m shackled, Sam?”
    She hunched her shoulders in indifference. “Fade away to a shadow, cock up my toes, and die.”
    “You should have gone to London when you were still —that is—”
    She looked at him wide-eyed. “I was going to, but it was considered unsafe. The roads were menaced by Vikings and Goths in those days.”
    Monteith touched her chin with one long finger. “Don’t go overboard on the sarcasm, Sammie. You’re not old enough to be playing Madame de Sta ë l. Only established matrons who wear blue stockings are permitted to be clever. You must find yourself a husband first. It is a sine qua non in polite society. Ladies still on the catch for a man must simper and smile. It would help if you could learn to blush.”
    “Difficult! You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” She laughed.
    “And you must not reveal that you find us gentlemen absurd.”
    “Impossible!”
    “Then you’re doomed to the shelf for life.”
    “Fine. Are we all finished with the compliments now? I am dying to hear what Lord Howard is like and why he isn’t here.”
    He shook his head. “Much must be missing in your life, when you encroach on the death metaphor for such a paltry excuse. Young maidens are allowed to be ‘dying’ only in the cause of romance. He’s as tanned as a blackamoor, and has wretched manners. I believe that answers your two questions. But never mind Howard. I am here to entertain you.”
    On this speech, he drew his chair a little closer and lowered his voice. “Tell me all the on-dits,” he ordered, and seemed truly interested to hear them.
    Samantha didn’t want to make the summer assembly the first item of priority, and said, “Reverend Russel is having the summer fête next week. A f ê te champ ê tre we are calling it this year, as he’s upped the price to a crown. We’re holding it here at the Hall.”
    He nodded approvingly. “We wouldn’t want to cheapen the Hall by letting them in for pennies. It all sounds very French. Champagne and strawberries, I expect? Flower-strewn swings and ladies with broad-brimmed hats. Young couples dallying along the riverbanks. Charming. Someone should paint it. A pity Fragonard is no longer alive.”
    “Strawberries and clotted cream, actually, and of course the smock