Free Again, My Lord: A Twist Series Novel by Katharine Ashe Page A

have swooned and immediately thereafter written an epic poem about it.
    He lowered his arm.
    “I do not, in fact,” he said. “But I see that in one manner you have not changed in six years. You still like to tease a man, don’t you?”
    “I am not teasing,” she said without a smile, the shine in her eyes now brittle. “Yesterday, I kissed you. Very swiftly, of course. I thought I was dreaming, but even so I should not have. Yet you don’t remember it. Do you remember Molly spilling coffee on my gown?”
    “The gown that you wear now? Your only gown?”
    “Yes.” She parted her cloak further and spread her skirts with both hands. “Just here, on the skirt and all across the bodice.”
    “Perhaps the rain has obscured the stain,” he said and dragged his eyes up from where her fingers were splayed across her breasts that were the ideal size to fit into a man’s hands.
    “There is no stain today,” she said. “It hasn’t happened yet. Not this today, yet.” She blinked swiftly, repeatedly. “I think I would like that breakfast now, if you are still offering it. I feel remarkably light-headed.”
    “Of course.” He extended his arm.
    “No. No, thank you. I don’t think I should touch you,” she said, and started back up the road.
    He came astride of her. “Had you plans to travel farther today, that this flood has ruined?”
    “I was to go home.” She flicked a swift glance at him. “You did not ask me about my travel plans yesterday,” she said. “You gave me your table and were ready to ignore me. In fact, the day before that, you did ignore me, until later, and the rainbow.”
    “The rainbow?”
    She halted in the middle of the road. “Why are you here now, away from the taproom?”
    “I saw you leave the Jolly Cockerel looking … odd. I was concerned.” More so now. This babbling did not bode well. Perhaps she was not in her right mind. But the night before she had seemed perfectly sane with her son and Lady Evelina.
    “You were concerned? About
me
? I insulted you last night in front of the others, and yet today you followed me out here in the rain because you were concerned?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.” She nodded, but her eyes looked even more distracted. She headed toward the inn anew. Just as they reached it, the infernally loud church bell began tolling the hour. A woman in a hat suited to Ascot twirled about in the foyer and her eyes popped wide.
    “Lady
Calista
? Lady Calista Chance? It
is
you. Calista Chance—oh, but I’d heard you
married,
of course. Oh, what a delight to see you after all these years!” The ribbon tied beneath her chin quivered with her excitement. “Dear Lady Calista, don’t you remember me?”
    “You are Mrs. Harriet Ryan Tinkerson,” she replied and walked past the woman into the taproom.
    Mrs. Tinkerson stared wide-eyed at the doorway, then at him.
    “What a delightful person she is.” She smiled uncertainly. “How do you do, sir? Oh! You are the Marquess of Dare! I saw you in the prince’s review two years ago. It is such an honor, my lord.” She fell into a deep curtsy.
    He bowed. “Pardon me, if you will, madam.” He went into the taproom. A grizzled-looking fellow with white whiskers had joined the guests among whom Tacitus had breakfasted earlier. Lady Holland stood dripping before him.
    “The ford is flooded and the north and east fields are flooded as well, all the way across the valley,” she said to him. “And there is no way out of this village, no matter how eager one is to leave it. Is this not correct, Mr. Pritchard?”
    He stood up. “Yes, ma’am. That’s correct. Swinly might as well be an island today.”
    Tacitus moved forward. “What do you mean? This village is now entirely encircled by water? Not only the flooded ford?”
    “Like a sailing ship upon the ocean, sir,” the fellow said. “Just as the lady here said, Butcher’s fields to the north and Drover’s field to the east as well. Hip deep, they are,