The Tenacious Miss Tamerlane Read Free Page B

Dobbin from
his straight and narrow path. Perhaps showing up on the Squire’s
doorstep with the sister of a Duke in tow would soften any censure
on her late arrival, she thought with little hope.
    Just then the thundering sounds of an
approaching rider reached her ears and she turned on the plank seat
for a view of what would probably be a prime bit of blood and bone.
The turn forced yet another sharp bit of the seat through her thin
gown and into her already tender posterior. “Damn,” she swore
soundly.
    “Oh, drat, you are absolutely right,” agreed
Lady Emily, who had also swiveled about for a better look. “However
did you know that is Ashley approaching?” she asked
ingenuously.
    “I didn’t. I have just been impaled upon a
splinter half the size of Cornwall, as nothing else as unpleasant
comes to mind except the home of my last unlamented place of
employment. As for your brother, we don’t stand a prayer of
outrunning him with old Fleetfoot in the shafts. If you were of a
mind to bolt for cover, that might be a means of escape, although I
think it would have gone easier for you to face him for the first
time with the Squire to act as a restraint on his undoubtedly
sorely-tried temper.”
    Lady Emily at once burst into noisy sobs
(this time they were genuine) as her brother was riding like a man
possessed, for once uncaring of his horseflesh. If she could have
swooned without tumbling ignominiously into the road, she would
have.
    A confrontation with Ashley in these
surroundings was sadly lacking the romance of standing out of
harm’s way while her brother vented his anger by loosening a few of
Godfrey’s front teeth. Nothing seemed to come right for poor Emily
lately, nothing at all. She sniffled loudly and hiccupped.
    “There, there, don’t go blubbering,” consoled
her no-longer-so-capable-looking champion. “All will come right
soon enough. Just let the poor man rant and rave until he’s spent,
then flash him those soulful blue eyes while you tearfully promise
to be a pattern card of virtue forevermore. And don’t let him see
you crossing your fingers behind your back!”
    Tansy gave out with an unnecessary “Whoa,
boy,” for the horse had already decided on a halt after spying some
interesting-looking long grass left untouched through the winter,
forcing the pursuing brother to control a plunging, dancing
stallion reluctant to discontinue a fine gallop.
    After easily controlling his horse, the rider
cast his eyes coldly over the ill-assorted pair and their
antiquated vehicle. After a cursory examination of his sister he
riveted his cold stare on Tansy, noting the drab brownness of her
garb, hair, and eyes. In his anger he overlooked the fine bone
structure of her pleasantly arranged face. Tansy in her turn
returned his gaze, noting the Duke’s large, well-muscled frame, his
dark-brown curls (now well-tumbled by his long ride), and the
startling blue eyes that stood out so well in his sun-darkened
face. “Emily,” he fairly purred in his deep voice when at last—his
eyes still on Tansy—he broke the tense silence. “I perceive I have
found you unharmed. I can only hope I also find you unwed and, this
I hope most fervently, unbed!”
    Lady Emily blushed to advantage and did so
now, although her companion never batted an eye at such plain
speech. “Oh, yes, Ashley,” the repentant sister assured him. “But
I’ve had the most dreadful—ouch!” A well-placed elbow jabbed
directly into the tender area below her ribs made Lady Emily break
off with a gasp that turned discreetly into a cough and then, most
intelligently, into silence. Her friend was right, for complaints
from a captured truant could not fail to blacken to pitch the
already dark scowl Ashley was aiming at his baby sister.
    “Madam,” the Duke—not failing to notice that
less than discreet nudge—remarked, still with a velvety smoothness
that went so ill with his dire expression, “I do not understand
your presence at the