The Love Affair of an English Lord Read Free Page A

extended his leather-gloved hand, not asking, ordering. Not exactly rude but no one’s knight in shining armor either. Chloe had the impression that he was paying her only perfunctory attention, that she’d interrupted him in the middle of some important mission, and that he didn’t appreciate the interference.
    She glanced down at her mucky half boots in distaste, wistfully remembering all the routs and soirées she had left behind in London.
    â€œHurry up,” he added, wiping his hand across his wet cheek.
    â€œBut I don’t know—”
    â€œGet on, young lady, before we are both soaked to the skin. This is the country, not the court.”
    Chloe bristled, but the half smile lurking in his eyes took some of the sting out of his command. Having been raised with five roguish brothers had obliterated her most tender sensibilities. Frogs, spit, unsavory jokes. Chloe and her older sister, Emma, had been inoculated against easy insult at an early age.
    Still, one should maintain a certain decorum, rain or not, even if one happened to be a young marquess’s daughter who was tottering on the thin line of social disgrace. Besides, this Sir Galahad was so full of himself, he could use a little reminder of what constituted good manners.
    â€œAt least introduce yourself, sir,” she said, the rain cooling the inexplicable heat that rose to her cheeks.
    He leaned across the pommel, his lips tightening in a smile. “I am the owner of the property into which you are sinking. Trespassing. In a thunderstorm. In a pretty silk dress. Now that that’s out of the way, are you getting on or not?”
    â€œWell, how can I refuse?” she muttered.
    That said, she still hesitated, taking a closer look at his face through the curtain of cold raindrops. Preoccupied, self-possessed, with short black hair slicked back on his scalp and his gunmetal-gray eyes regarding her with a detached mockery that appeared to be degenerating into impatience. She glanced toward the stone hedge that enclosed the field. Her footman was nowhere in sight.
    â€œYes or no?” he asked briskly.
    â€œYes, but give me a chance—”
    To shake the mud off her boots, which evidently didn’t bother him; with one hand he pulled her up behind him, onto his well-trained mount. Chloe’s senses registered the scent of Galahad’s wet woolen greatcoat, an appealing whiff of woodsy cologne, the intrusive warmth of his elbow joint beneath her breast. She also noticed the way his body stiffened, then leaned back into her with a casual arrogance that made her heart pound. All put together, he was a rather overpowering example of masculinity. She had to restrain the urge to huddle against his hard, muscular body.
    She stared at the back of his head in a rather hopeful trepidation. Had she made another of her countless mistakes? Her impulsive tendencies were what had gotten her exiled to this uneventful social oasis in the first place. But Galahad
was
a neighbor. A noble one if she recalled her aunt’s passing mention of the man.
    Or had it been a warning? Chloe had heard his name even before she had been sent to Sussex. Dominic’s younger brother Samuel had died last year alongside Chloe’s brother Brandon in the service of the East India Company, which they had joined in search of adventure and the prizes promised them on recruiting posters.
    Instead, they had been killed by Gurkha rebels on a scouting mission in Nepal. She remembered her two older brothers speaking of Viscount Stratfield with an admiration rarely displayed toward men of their own class. Apparently the viscount had been instrumental in arranging the memorial service for the two young friends.
    In any event Chloe was not at all concerned that her rescuer would do anything so outrageous as to ravish her on his horse, or to abduct her into slavery—until he took off at a gallop in the opposite direction of the familiar bridle