Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page B

me down?”  She leaned low over her mount’s neck and patted her fondly.  “I’d like to give this girl a chance to calm down a bit before I subject her to that crush.”
    He dismounted and went to lift her down.  Why did any proximity to this girl send his senses into disarray?  He could hear the rustle of her petticoats, louder than the beating of his heart.  Her woolen skirts brushed against his thighs as she slid down and the fresh jasmine scent of her hair drifted upward, tickling his nose.  He touched the tiny curve of her waist as briefly as necessity and good manners allowed, then retreated back to his gelding. 
    “So what you truly meant was that you caught me up so you could gloat,” he grumbled.
    “Well, perhaps just a little.”  She sparkled up at him.
    With a grunt he moved off, keeping to the path she’d followed in. 
    “You must admit, if you meant to see if she could stay the course, then she’s passed your test easily,” she called, following.
    “She didn’t fail abjectly.  I’ll give you that much.”  He kept his gaze focused forward and still his skin prickled with awareness of her.  Still he knew the fluid grace with which she walked. 
    “Despite what you seem to think, I’m not a monster,” he threw back over his shoulder.  “I’m not throwing obstacles in the path of true love for mere joy of it.”
    “I don’t think that.  I think you are coddling your nephew.”  She’d drawn up even with him and cast a glance askance as she made her accusation.
    “Wrong again.  It wasn’t even much of an obstacle.  I merely wish for the pair of them to slow things a bit, to pause to make sure of each other and take in all of the realities of their situation.”  Before she could object—and he knew she wished to—he continued.  “It might surprise you to learn that I’m happy Miss Carmichael has taken the hurdle without hesitation—and treated Peter fairly in the bargain.  It makes me feel a bit . . . safer . . . when I think of leaving him in her hands.”
    She stopped abruptly, causing her mare to nose her with impatience.  She ignored the animal in favor of fixing him with a piercing stare.  “Safer?”
    Brodham cursed his own stupidity.  The last thing he wished was to prod her into asking questions he’d no wish to answer.
    “Safe?” she asked again.  “I don’t think that’s what Mr. Gardiner is thinking when he gazes at Felicity like she’s descended from the heavens on angel’s wings.”  She frowned—and shocked him by taking the conversation in an entirely different direction.
    “Is that what you’ll be looking for in a bride, Lord Brodham?  Someone safe ?”  This time she surged forward, leaving him behind and following the path into a copse of trees without waiting for his answer.
    An unexpected turn—and here he’d thought that questions about Peter were the last thing he wished to entertain.  Once more Liberty Baylis proved him wrong.  He was beginning to tire of it—but not of her. 
    And therein lay another problem.
    He didn’t want to follow her down that particular conversational path.  Yet it was safer than allowing her to think too hard about what he’d inadvertently hinted at.
    With a sigh he entered the shaded spot.  Squinting, he found her waiting as her mare investigated the undergrowth.  The smile on her face looked forced and unconvincing.  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked disturbed. 
    He knew a moment’s satisfaction—and that disturbed him.
    “You mock me,” he said slowly.  “And perhaps safe is the wrong word.  But it would be easier for you to understand if you knew the turmoil I’ve dealt with over the years.”
    “Turmoil?”  She sounded skeptical.
    “Yes.  I’m afraid it became my specialty.  In my work I’ve been thrust into one uproar after another—and always been expected to ease it, erase it, or convince the world it never happened.”  He shrugged. “It’s