Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince by Jennifer Moore Read Free Book Online Page B

of her bedchamber. The brightness ignited optimism, and she found herself looking forward to something new, even if it was an outing with Lord Featherstone.
    After breakfast, the earl accompanied Meg through the great hall and out the main entrance to his chaise. A beautiful dark horse was harnessed to the carriage. A Yorkshire Coach Horse, Meg thought, recognizing the long legs and elegant body; until now, she had only ever seen the breed in a reference book.
    Lord Featherstone assisted her into the chaise and handled the reins himself, driving down the road, farther into the duke’s estate. Meg tipped her head back, enjoying the feel of the warmth on her face as she admired the grounds. She took a detailed accounting of the scenery around them. With the sun shining, England was a completely different place. The meadows were beginning to sprout green grass, birds chirped, and buds clung to tree branches.
    The earl did not seem to want to enjoy the serenity of a late winter’s morning and instead filled the silence by describing his holdings in Somerset. Though Meg had yet to learn anything about the man himself—aside from his inability to grow a full mustache—she did learn that he had an income of 15,000 pounds per annum, an estate of more than 10,000 acres, which required a bailiff, land agent, and auditor to manage in his absence. Not to mention various other properties that accompanied lesser titles he had inherited. Lord Featherstone informed her that Hawthorne House itself had 34 bedchambers, a ballroom, extensive gardens, stained glass windows, a large conservatory, and a dining room to rival that of any estate in England.
    Meg nodded and smiled in all the right places, but the earl apparently did not expect her to answer, so she allowed her mind to wander as he talked, specifically to the elegant horse pulling the carriage. Did Lord Featherstone realize that the horse would perform better if given her head? He held the reigns so tightly that it looked painful for the animal, and in Meg’s opinion, the man was a bit too free with the whip.
    She had almost resolved to mention it when movement between the trees caught her eye. She turned her head to look closer. There were people in the forest. It was most certainly a band of outlaws, she thought. “I think there is someone in the woods, my lord,” Meg whispered.
    Lord Featherstone peered in the direction Meg indicated, and they both saw the flash of color and glint of metal between the trees.
    “Most likely poachers,” he said, turning his gaze back to the road. He sniffed, and his lip curled as they moved past the spot. “The duke will undoubtedly need to be informed. Britain prosecutes such criminals severely.”
    “For hunting in the forest?” Meg asked, looking back over her shoulder.
    “They are stealing the duke’s animals,” the earl said, his eyes narrowing. “If they are apprehended, they will be transported for a minimum of seven years.”
    “What does that mean, transported ?” Meg began to feel the sinking feeling of unease.
    He shrugged and ran his finger over his upper lip. “Deported, consigned to seven years of hard labor, and never allowed to return upon penalty of death.”
    “Perhaps they are simply trying to feed their families,” she said. She was horrified with the injustice of it all. “How can the duke own the animals when they could at any moment walk in and out of his forest?” She tried not to allow her voice to rise, though she was not entirely successful.
    He looked down at her, shaking his head and patting her hand where it rested in her lap. “Miss Margaret, do not concern yourself. Such things are not a lady’s affair. You must put them out of your mind and leave these matters to men.” He wrapped his hand around hers.
    Meg bit down on her lip to prevent herself from arguing further. She lifted her hand away. The earl’s touch had been the opposite of comforting. Her throat ached, and her eyes began to prickle.