Page 28 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante
“Ah,” she said, smiling up at him.
His gaze slid to her. He frowned. “Lord,” he muttered, and stepped back, took her hand and pulled her away from the tree. “I think we best see about a horse or two.”
“Pardon?”
He looked at her and squeezed her hand in his. “I can’t very well leave you alone now, can I?”
“But I thought I reminded you of your sister,” she said.
He frowned. “You don’t remind me of anything but a temptress at the moment,” he said brusquely.
Prudence’s smile widened.
He shook his head. “You can ride, can’t you? We best ride to...where is it you’re going?”
“Himple,” she said, unable to suppress her smile.
“Himple,” he echoed, and with a roll of his eyes, he sighed as if that perturbed him, too.
CHAPTER SIX
THEPURCHASEOFhorseflesh in this country was not inexpensive. Nor was it easy, especially when one had uninvited help.
Roan had specifically instructed Miss Cabot to remain outside while he went into the post house to inquire about horses. Naturally, she objected, citing his “foreign accent” as a possible deterrent to information. He cited her “unchaperoned and unmarried” situation as a possible deterrent to information, as well. Miss Cabot didn’t like the reminder—no surprise in that—and it certainly didn’t astonish him when she didn’t obey him.
The women in his life never obeyed him—the women consisting primarily of his mother and his sister, and his romantic interests. None of them ever followed his sound advice, but none of them had ever perturbed him quite like Miss Cabot. Perhaps in part because she had a disconcerting habit of speaking when he really preferred she not speak.
Roan held out hope that Susannah Pratt would obey him, but he didn’t know enough about her to say. She was pleasant and agreeable, and...and he kept searching for things to admire about her. Today, a little more earnestly than before.
He stepped into the post house, and was instantly assailed by a number of mail sacks hanging from the ceiling. He batted them aside, stooped beneath them and walked across the creaking plank floors to the counter.
Two elderly gentlemen were sitting behind the counter. Neither of them moved as Roan approached, giving the impression that they’d been sitting there since the beginning of time and were one with their stools. It was a wonder they were not covered in cobwebs. One of them sported a snowy-white beard beneath a flat nose. The other had lost most of his hair, but his body had seen fit to allow him to retain a pair of woolly caterpillars for eyebrows.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said.
The caterpillars nodded at him. The beard didn’t seem to have heard.
“I was wondering if there might be any horseflesh in the area for purchase?”
“What you mean?” the beard asked. “You mean to buy a horse?”
Roan couldn’t begin to guess what other meaning horseflesh might have here, but he said, “Yes. Two horses.”
“Two,”the beard said, in a tone that suggested he thought that was excessive.
“Yes. I need two,” Roan said. “My ah...” He winced and nodded vaguely at the door. “My wife and I,” he choked out. What else could he say? He couldn’t very well suggest to these men he was traveling alone with an unmarried woman. Not that he cared a whit what they would think of him, but he could only imagine what they would think—and say—of Miss Cabot.
“Wife,” said the caterpillars. He and the beard exchanged a look. Roan swallowed down a small swell of discomfort. Was it possible someone from the stagecoach had mentioned them? Perhaps suggested they keep an eye out for Miss Cabot?
“Two,”the beard repeated to the caterpillars.
“Is there a problem?” Roan asked.
“Post coach will be through within the hour,” the caterpillars said. “Wife can buy passage on the coach.”
“Right,” Roan said. “That would be a fine solution if she were not made ill by the movement of the coach.”
Neither of the men spoke.
