Free A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND Page B

down the North Avenue and turned back to look at the house floating serenely amidst the wood with the golden ball on its cupola catching the sun. A herd of deer crossed their line of sight, paused, and disappeared into the woods.
    ‘Is Quinlan like this?’ Cassie asked as they slowed their horses to a dreamy walk and wandered through the woodland glades. The air was thick with sunlight and the smell of late, wild honeysuckle.
    ‘No,’ Peter said. She watched his reminiscent smile and realised how fond he was of his inheritance. ‘Quinlan is in Yorkshire. The countryside is much bleaker and more rugged than here, but it has a beauty all its own.’
    ‘Yorkshire!’ Cassie was startled. ‘I had not realised that your estates were in the north.’
    ‘I am afraid so.’ Peter smiled at her. ‘The first Lord Quinlan was a merchant who loaned a great deal of money to King Charles I. The King felt obliged to ennoble him, but did not want such a parvenu anywhere near his court so he gave him lands in Yorkshire instead.’
    Cassie laughed. ‘But you have other estates elsewhere, do you not?’
    ‘In Devon and Kent, but Quinlan Court is our main seat.’ Peter glanced at her. ‘Attending to Quinlan requires a great deal of time away from London, I fear.’
    ‘What a pity,’ Cassie said, with a wicked sidewayssmile at him. ‘That would not suit me at all. I am so very attached to the events of the Season, you know.’ She could tell from the look he gave her that he was not sure if she meant it.
    ‘Is that so?’ he said easily, after a moment. ‘Then I am wondering why have I never met you at any of those events…’
    ‘My chaperon only permits me to attend the most respectable of balls and parties,’ Cassie said. ‘It is unlikely that I should meet you there.’
    ‘How so?’
    ‘Because, as I mentioned to you at our very first meeting, you have something of a rake’s reputation, my lord. Although…’ Cassie put her head on one side and viewed him thoughtfully ‘…your attire is so modest that many ladies might mistakenly consider you quite harmless. Is that deliberate?’
    ‘It is the deliberate effect of poverty,’ Peter said, smiling, ‘nothing more.’
    They had reached a small meadow encircled by trees, where the grass grew high and the bees buzzed in the clover. Peter swung down from the saddle and held his arms out to lift Cassie down. For one long, dizzying moment her body was held tight against his and then she was set on her feet.
    ‘So do you think me a rake?’ he continued. ‘You might have cause to believe it.’
    ‘Only if you think me a wanton,’ Cassie said thoughtfully. ‘You might have cause to believe that too.’
    ‘I would never believe that, Cassie.’ The ring of truth in Peter’s voice put sincerity past question. ‘In the inn you had sustained a fall and a blow to the head, not to mention the intoxicating effects of the landlady’s cordial.’
    ‘Next you will be telling me that I was not responsible for my own actions,’ Cassie said, smiling.
    ‘I suppose that you were not,’ Peter said. ‘That was why I did not want you to be constrained into marriage with me.’
    ‘Peter,’ Cassie said, putting a hand out to him. ‘I knew what I did.’ She paused. ‘I knew very well,’ she repeated softly.
    They were both very still. The drone of the bees seemed loud in the silence. The rich, abundant smells of late summer filled the air and made Cassie feel quite light-headed. The sun was warm against her face. All her senses seemed to quicken. She wanted Peter to catch her to him and tumble her down in the long grasses. The blood beat swift and light in her veins.
    Peter tore his gaze from hers and took a step away from her, and the moment was broken. ‘Perhaps we should return to the house, Miss Ward.’
    ‘In a little while,’ Cassie said. ‘There is something I wanted to ask you first, if I may.’
    She seated herself on a broad oak log, spread her skirts demurely