Maggie MacKeever Read Free

the daughter of the oldest Ashley brother, who ran up a staggering number of debts and then—in true Ashley tradition—sat down and shot himself. We will speak no more of it, if you please! As much as mention Lady Bliss to your aunt, and Eulalia will demand my head on a platter. And so she should!”
    “In a pig’s whisker.” Miss Lennox wore an unusual expression of intent and abstracted meditation. “Since when are you afraid of Aunt Eulalia?”
    Never before had Lord Roxbury seen that look on his companion’s tranquil face, and he did not care for it. “I’m not,” he said brusquely. “But in this case Eulalia would have the right of it.” Jynx shot him a glance that was almost quarrelsome. “Too,” he added, in softer tones, “I would not care to have my wife associate with a lady who is a great deal less prudent than she should be.”
    Even Miss Lennox’s legendary pose was not proof against this sally. Her sleepy eyes opened wide; her placidity was replaced by a look of sheer astonishment. “Your what?” said she.
    “You expressed a wish to gallop,” countered Lord Roxbury, uncomfortably aware of the speculative gazes that were fixed on them. “Since we have already disgraced ourselves, we might as well treat our audience to an exciting finale.” And, he added silently, divert that audience’s attention from the shocking fact that his dear friend Miss Lennox had come disastrously close to making the acquaintance of his current flirt.
    “There may be hope for you yet, Shannon!” remarked Miss Lennox, rather enigmatically, and gathered up her reins.
    Gallop they did, to the startled consternation of all who witnessed this reckless feat, and the on-dits flew after them like a swarm of angry bees. Some claimed that Lord Roxbury was responsible for the scandalous act, for it was well known that Miss Lennox was not one to willingly bestir herself to any arduous exercise; others averred that Miss Lennox herself had been the instigator, but declared that Lord Roxbury was at fault, for he had clearly ripped up at her, and his thundercloud demeanor had been sufficient to rouse the most somnolent of young ladies to flight. On one point only did all agree, that the pair had patently taken leave of their senses.
    If so, the miscreants had derived great enjoyment from their temporary insanity. Lord Roxbury drew rein, and led Miss Lennox into a leafy copse. She adjusted her hat, which had slid so far forward that the ostrich plume tickled her nose, and regarded him. Lord Roxbury gazed upon her flushed countenance and heaving breast and smiled.
    “If you meant to distract me,” remarked Miss Lennox, who had long professed herself immune to the most glorious of masculine smiles, another attribute that Lord Roxbury undoubtedly possessed, “it did not serve.”
    “You did not enjoy your gallop?” interrupted the viscount, as he placed his hands around her slender waist and helped her to dismount. “I made sure you would.”
    “It was glorious.” Jynx did not remark upon the fact that his hands still clasped her waist. “Aunt Eulalia will have recourse to her vinaigrette when she learns of it. I wish that she might have a spasm.”
    “You need not,” offered Lord Roxbury, noting the delightful way in which her lovely hair escaped from beneath her hat, “give further consideration to your Aunt Eulalia.”
    “Oh?” Jynx raised her sleepy eyes to his face. “Shannon, you can’t truly wish to marry me?”
    “That’s a damned silly question,” retorted the viscount, roughly. He had just, upon such close inspection, been visited by a sudden suspicion that though Miss Lennox might be no great beauty, she was possibly a great deal more. “I shall marry you with the greatest pleasure on earth, poppet.”
    “Oh,” said Miss Lennox, rather doubtfully.
    Barely in the nick of time, Lord Roxbury recalled the fate of a former suitor who had courted this young lady too ardently, and released her hastily. “As