LITMIR.BIZ

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      She smiled wickedly. “Oh, I’d say this was a bit more than flirting, wouldn’t you?”

      Shaking his head slightly, he removed her hand from his neck. “A reaction to thinking you were in danger, that’s all. I thought your horse had gone out of control. It’s a large beast for a small woman.”

      She huffed her displeasure, but she didn’t move away. That would be to give ground to this man. “He might be a gelding, but Storm still prefers to be referred to as ‘he.’ I’ve known him since a foal. He’s as gentle as a kitten.”

      As if to prove her point, Storm nudged her in the back and sent her off balance. Laughing, she fell into Lord St. Just’s arms. “Truly, there was no need for you to be concerned.” He was much stronger than she’d imagined, his fashionable clothes serving to disguise his strength. Today he wore a comfortable country coat in dark green, with a brown waistcoat and breeches. Nothing like his scarlet finery of the day before.

      “And how exactly was I expected to know that?” He spoke incisively, each word snapped off, totally unlike his fashionable self’s lazy drawl.

      He had a point. He didn’t know her well enough to know her prowess on a horse. “You’ll know next time. If you don’t recognize me, you’ll know my horse.”

      “Society would condemn you for a hoyden if they saw you like this.” Amusement lurked at the back of his voice.

      So Lord St. Just lost his temper, but it was quick as a flash, because he wasn’t angry now. Unless kisses dissipated his anger. Perhaps, having been a soldier, he was used to controlling his moods. But for that moment, he’d been angry. And she’d loved it.

      He released her and bowed slightly. “I should leave you alone if I see you in distress again, is that it?”

      “Certainly.” She put up her chin, but inside she was glowing, the effects of the kiss still radiating within her. She wanted him to repeat his action, but she doubted he’d do it just because she asked him.

      This tedious season was growing far more interesting. A challenge would liven it up nicely. “I appreciate your concern, but there was no need. Except that—” She broke off, because the hint was better than saying aloud that she would claim another kiss if she could. He could infer what he wanted.

      She bobbed a curtsey, but due to her riding habit, it was not as elegant as it otherwise might be. “Thank you for rescuing me, sir. Now if you could help me back into the saddle, I promise to go home at a sedate pace.”

      “Madam, I live to serve.”

      His deep voice and the heat in his eyes promised more, but she would not claim it now. Like a good wine, men improved if they were made to wait. Being a member of a large family had taught her much, not least that pearl of wisdom.

      He threw her into the saddle with little seeming effort and then mounted his own steed. Lifting her leg over the pommel, she settled her left foot in the stirrup and took the reins, which he’d looped over the horse’s neck for her.

      “Storm and I thank you.”

      “Can he take a man’s saddle?” He wheeled his horse, ready to turn back.

      “He’s my horse so he’s been trained for a side saddle. I daresay it wouldn’t take much to retrain him. Not that it’s likely to happen.” She gave Storm a consoling pat and set off at the pace she’d promised, a sedate walk. She didn’t go above a trot all the way home. He kept by her side the whole way, despite the groom she’d left at the gate falling in behind them as they left the park.

      His conversation was unremarkable but clever. As her attention drifted from one subject, he moved swiftly to another, keeping her amused until they reached the mews behind her house. After she assured him she could get down by herself on the mounting block, he touched her gloved hand and told her to behave herself and remember her promise.

      He left, his seat on his horse immaculate. Not at all like the man she’d met before. This man intrigued her.

      She climbed down and went in the house to change for breakfast.

      * * * *

      Some families ate breakfast in their rooms, privately and in silence. Others ate in formal splendor, fully dressed and receiving guests. The cacophony filtering down the hall as Claudia made her way to the breakfast-parlor of the Strenshall London house sounded reassuringly familiar. She plunged in without hesitation. She needed some distraction to help her forget this morning’s disturbing but exhilarating meeting with Lord St. Just.

      The sheer noise gave some people pause. Her cousin Julius, the grand Earl of Winterton, had visibly winced when he visited them last week. He had not been back for breakfast since.

      They ate at noon, making the meal a feast. Most, like Claudia, had been out or at least up and dressed for hours. Not her brother Valentinian.

      Val was dressed in a glorious red banyan embroidered with dragons breathing fire and sported the matching cap on his unwigged head. In defiance to his mother’s edict about keeping elbows off the table, Val had his firmly in place and his chin resting on his hand. Claudia sat next to him and deliberately knocked the offending joint away.

      Val’s chin nearly hit the white linen cloth. He pulled his head clear with a whisker to spare.

      Unrepentant, Claudia clapped her hands and shrieked with laughter, and she wasn’t the only one. Her twin, Livia, grinned, as did their sister, Drusilla. Val’s twin, Darius, positively howled.

      Claudia’s mother had the ability to speak above the hubbub without actually shouting. “Claudia, you will apologize at once! I will not have such behavior at the breakfast table!”

      “Or anywhere else,” her husband murmured, sparing a glance at his daughter before returning to his newspaper.

      Claudia offered her apology, to have Val grudgingly accept it. The scold was worth it.

      “Did you know that the Young Pretender could be in London?” her father said.

      His heir, Claudia’s oldest brother, Marcus, scoffed. “That was four years ago, Papa!”

      The marquess shrugged and turned a page. “I have no idea why it took The London Mirror so long to discover it, but it’s here now. Perhaps he’s returned.”

      At least three conversations were going on while that small exchange took place. Each member of the family had its own pitch, the better to communicate. Claudia tended to converse just above her twin and Dru. Now she busied herself getting a plateful of hot food from the sideboard instead of taking part in the talk or responding to her brother. Val was currently grumbling about sisters and pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee.

      Claudia took her seat and grinned at him. “Out late last night, Val?”

      Val grimaced. If the women who flocked around him in company could see that face, they wouldn’t call him handsome. “Early, you might say. Nevertheless, I came out the winner. A thousand to the good.”

      “Damn, Val, what are you doing? Robbing the tyros fresh off the stage coach?” Marcus demanded. Tricksters and madams thronged the coach yards in search of pigeons ready for the plucking.

      Val waved a dismissive hand. “I play games of skill and make sure I practice. Most of the game is watching your opponents. It’s tiring.”

      “Oh, I’m so sorry for you!” Claudia said. “You only won a thousand? That’s more than a workman earns in his whole life.”

      Val grunted and drank his coffee in one gulp. Dark hair peeked out from under his cap, and his chin was covered with black stubble.

      Claudia loved this part of the day. With the sound of fork and knife scraping against china and the clicking of tea-dishes and coffee-cups, together with the scent of her mother’s chocolate drifting over the aroma of freshly fried bacon, this meant more to her than any society dinner.

      It

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