Country Flirt Read Free Page B

race and egg race and three-legged race. You don’t have a river on the estate, but the children will likely be wading for frog spawn in the stream.”
    Monteith lowered his brow and frowned in mock anger. “You haven’t changed a bit, Miss Bright. Still playing the country lumpkin to the top of your bent, to make me appear a fop. Tell me, am I having a ball afterward?”
    “No, a barn dance, milord.”
    The flash of amusement in his dark eyes reminded Samantha what it was she liked about Monty. He was always willing to laugh at himself and anyone else who deserved it. But it wasn’t a mean laugh. He merely enjoyed the oddities of the world.
    “What other earthly delights await me in the country? No need to take me literally and inform me of worms and toads and dandelions.”
    “The summer assembly is at the end of the month, if you’re still here. I doubt that would appeal to one of your jaded appetites. No doubt Brighton would provide a better party than Lambrook. On the other hand,” she added with exaggerated importance, “they’ve put a new coat of paint on the raised platform in the assembly room at the inn. Can Brighton boast of a green raised platform?”
    “Not even Prinney’s Pavilion has such magnificence! And the music?”
    “Jed Flood and his Fiddlers Three, with Mrs. Flood at the pianoforte, as usual.”
    “Tempting! But enough of these paltry details. What of the ladies? Has Lambrook any new pulchritude to tempt a jaded palate? If there’s one thing dearer to my heart than money, it is the ladies. Not just any old woman, mind you, but a prime piece of pulchritude.”
    Samantha shook her head in sad resignation. So far as she could tell, Monty cared not a fig for money or virtue or character or any of the items the generality of mankind admired. She couldn’t count the number of items she had heard him say, “Yes, but is she pretty?” when a deb had been nudged forward for his consideration. “How are her eyes, her teeth, her ankles?”
    Excellence in any of the above was always sufficient recommendation. The lady need not be incomparable. Indeed, from what she had seen of some of his “beauties” at the Hall, he could discover charms invisible to a less keen eye. A certain Mrs. Higgs, for example, was a butter-toothed widow with a dumpy frame, but Monty saw only her long lashes and dimples. The eyes were well enough, but as for the dimples, they weren’t on her face or arms.
    She scoured her mind and said, “Well, there’s Mrs. Armstrong, a new widow lady who has rented the old brick house across from us on High Street.”
    “Is she pretty?” he asked, with every appearance of interest.
    “She’ll be at your barn dance, Monty. Why don’t you go and see for yourself?”
    “Will you save me a waltz?”
    “I feel safe in promising you every waltz. That city dissipation hasn’t reached Lambrook yet.”
    “That explains your unusual generosity! Perhaps I’ll have a waltzing party and teach it to the locals. This Mrs. Armstrong —where is she from?”
    “What does it matter? She has lovely black hair and long lashes.”
    Monteith tilted his head and massaged his chin. It was at Samantha’s long lashes that he gazed, smiling softly. What a pretty girl she was! And what would her dowry be? She might make an excellent wife for one of his brothers. She would be a lively addition to the family gatherings. He might even bring her into fashion in London.
    The butler announced dinner, and Monteith went to do his duty in escorting ladies to the dining room. They were one gentleman short. The vicar had his wife, Mr. Sutton’s sisters each had a husband with them, and Lady Monteith had Mr. Sutton, which permitted Monteith to escort both the Brights.
    Lady Monteith looked with annoyance at her lovely table. She’d have to do the pretty all over again when Howard took it into his head to come. No matter, with Monty home, the house would be full of company. She was of a quiet disposition,